#but that makes this even more overwhelming and i end up barely getting anything done

[thethingything]

had to lay down. woke up at nearly 7am. got overwhelmed by our sleep schedule once again being fucked because yesterday we actually went to bed at roughly the right time and thought "oh this is great we've fixed it". decided that we're just gonna deal with it and it'll be fine. and then our brain decided that no actually we're gonna have a combination of emotions that's maybe gonna give me another breakdown if I can't figure out how to deal with them but I have no fucking clue what to do with them

[selfcarecap]

✧ Manipulative best friend!Logan with a corruption kink

warnings: smut 18+, this is not a dark fic, Logan isn’t truly manipulative but we have a very naive/innocent/inexperienced reader; first time masturbation, JOI, handjob, fingering (in front of a mirror), first kiss, pet names (bub, baby, my girl, good girl), Logan doesn’t always fully ask for consent but if he did reader would want it, so those are the type of vibes, Logan takes advantage of the situation but reader is into him too, it’s implied that reader is a mutant too but powers are not specified, mentions of alcohol, reader wears Logan’s (big) shirt, Logan is a bit gross 

This kind of got out of hand lmaoo it was just supposed to just be a short concept but I ended up writing 5.5k words lolll. It’s not a fully fleshed out fic (it’s in full sentences etc but still just kind of loosely written scenes) but I thought I’d still share <33 (gorgeous divider by @anitalenia <3)

Logan knows he wants you from the moment he meets you. He knows he needs you the second you come to the mansion and join the school. But you’re so shy and nervous that he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he tells himself he’ll wait for a bit and let you get used to your new life here first. 

What he isn’t expecting is that you become really good friends in the meantime. Yes, he still wants to fuck you but he also genuinely enjoys your company and cares about you. Logan has a big, fat crush on you and there’s not really anything he won’t do in order to be closer to you.

But the problem is that you’re so innocent and he can’t tell if it’s an act, if you just don’t like talking about sex in front of other people, or if you’re really like this. 

He hears you talking to Storm and Jean one night and Storm is trying to convince you to get a vibrator and you’re asking “what would I need that for? I don’t… y’know���. Storm says “you don’t what? Masturbate?”.

Logan knows exactly what shy expression you’re making even though he can’t see you, and you’re all like “oh my god, don’t say it that loud”. And he knows your pretty face must be getting all hot with embarrassment and the thought alone turns Logan on to no end. It’s quiet for a bit and Logan gathers that Jean reads your mind, and she confirms to Storm that you’re not lying.  

Logan can only hear the conversation because he’s in the kitchen and you’re all in the room next to it, but some students come in so he can’t keep eavesdropping, as much as he wants to. And he knows there’s no way you’re continuing the conversation if he’s in the room, so he has to give up for the night. He tries to ask Storm the next day about what you said and she just calls him a pervert and says to ask you himself if he wants to know so badly. 

But that’s kind of the thing. He’s become your best friend over the last few months, but there are still some things you’d never tell him just because he’s a guy, even if you don’t see him as more than a friend. Yet.

And Logan only gets more desperate when you’re drunk one evening after a girl’s night and you��re knocking at his door. It’s really late but Logan lets you in of course. You’re crying a bit and he makes you sit in his bed and takes off your shoes and slides off your jacket while you hiccup something unintelligible. 

He sits down with you and you can barely focus on what you’re saying, and then you get up mumbling about your uncomfortable tights and your skirt and suddenly you’re in front of him in just a top and panties. Logan has to gulp down a moan as he stares at the flesh of your thighs and the rolls on your belly and all he can think about is devouring you whole – until he hears you mention the conversation with Storm and Jean from the other day, “wait, what was that?”

You pout, “Well I was talking to them and turns out apparently I’m the only woman in the world that doesn’t masturbate and– and Jean went home to Scott, and Storm went home with someone she met at the bar and I’ve never even done anything with a guy, not even with myself. I just feel left behind.”

And Logan tells you something about how you’re just a late bloomer and there’s still time, because that’s what he thinks you want to hear, but you tell him it’s condescending. You don’t want to be a late bloomer, you just want to have sex. And oh– Logan can help you with that.

He has to do his absolute best to keep calm and not mount you immediately, but you’re drunk so that’s what’s stopping him. He might manipulate you a little to get what he wants but he’s not that bad. He asks “you don’t like touching yourself?” And you just shrug and say “dunno”. 

“You never feel an ache between your legs?” Logan asks, keeping so calm it’s painful. And he can practically feel the heat melting off your face at the question as your eyes dart around the room, “I don’t know, sometimes”.

 “And you don’t touch yourself?”

You shrug again, looking everywhere but at Logan, “I never really know what people mean when they say that. I, like, touch myself and it feels nice but that’s it.” 

Logan smiles, “how long do you touch yourself for?” 

“I don’t know, a few seconds.”

And he chuckles and says “it’s normal that you don’t get anywhere in a few seconds, bub.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” you manage to meet his eyes briefly but look away again as you sit on your hands shyly.

“You ever watched porn?” Logan asks and your eyes go wide as if he’s just committed the worst sin known to womankind in front of you and you hug your legs and say “noo, I would never. I’m not, like, a pervert.”

Logan laughs, “Porn isn’t just for perverts. There’s more to it than choking and bondage, there’s tame stuff.” You just say “well I’ve never watched any.” 

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” 

He can tell you’re getting a bit ashamed and while he would love to train that shame out of you when it comes to sex, now isn’t the time when you’re drunk in his bed at 2AM. 

“You wanna go to sleep?” He asks, failing to resist giving a small squeeze to your knee. Your eyes fly to his hand there, gaze lingering on his fingers even as he pulls them away. You nod after a few moments, and Logan reaches out to wipe away the remnants of your tears and says “you wanna sleep in my bed? We could cuddle”. 

You grin like a child who’s just tried ice cream for the first time at his suggestion and he gives you a bigger shirt of his so you don’t have to sleep in that small, tight top you’re wearing. You pull off your top without warning and then he’s looking at you in just your underwear and he feels like he’s died and ascended to heaven even though he’s probably more likely to go to hell with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. 

You cast a shy glance over your shoulder as you undo your bra and Logan wills himself to shut his eyes, putting his hand over them because he knows otherwise he’d look.

He only wants to fuck you more when he sees you in his shirt though, and he’ll definitely have to go to the bathroom to jerk off once you’ve fallen asleep. Except that you snuggle against his side so cutely, head resting on his shoulder with a leg thrown over his. 

You’re fast asleep before he can even say good night and when he moves to get up you move closer, and now he’s got your plush tits pressed up against his side and your arm over his waist. A tent has formed in his pants and he feels pathetic that he’s measuring the distance between your elbow and his crotch, silently willing you to move just a few inches. 

He’s so horny that he’d feel no moral qualms at jerking off right next to you. He’d cum so quickly with you pressed to his side, but he wouldn’t know how to explain it if you woke up. He doesn’t want to scare you away. So he pulls away to get up, and you wake up and whine when he stands up, telling you he just has to pee to which you grumble, and you grab his pillow to cuddle with instead. 

He jerks off shamelessly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His spit slicked-palm is starting to get loud as he strokes his cock to thoughts of you, but he doesn’t care if you hear. You probably wouldn’t know what he’s doing anyway with how innocent you are. 

He doesn’t even have to fantasise about any sexual scenario with you. Thinking about the pretty smile you have whenever you look at him is enough to have his fists drenched in his cum as he jerks himself off with both hands to stroke his entire length. 

He can’t hold back the small moan that spills over his lips when he cums, torn between hoping you heard and hoping you didn’t. Logan washes his hands and rejoins you in bed. 

He takes a moment before he slips under the covers, taking in the sight of you in his bed, imagining you’re his and that it’s the norm for you to sleep together rather than an exception. You stir as the mattress dips with his weight, swapping the pillow of his that was clutched between your arms for his bicep that you hold onto instead. You’re way too gone to have heard any of what he just did, and for a moment he feels dirty for thinking about you the way that he does. 

It doesn’t last long, of course, as he dreams of you most nights. He can’t feel bad about it though – he’ll take any dream over one of his nightmares (that he hasn’t had since he met you). And if he’s honest it turns him on how innocent and unsuspecting you are of what goes on in his head when he thinks of you. 

-

You wake up still wrapped around his body the next morning. You have a headache and Logan brings you something to soothe it, offering to massage your stiff neck too. You sigh in bliss as soon as Logan’s hands are on you, and he reminds himself that you must be touch-starved. You’ve never touched yourself, let alone felt the touch of another person that went beyond platonic or familial affection. 

He revels in the sounds he pulls from you with ease with the most basic massaging technique there is. He never wants to leave. He started off hovering over the back of your thighs, but he’s been making his way forwards and now his crotch is nestled right against the soft swell of your ass. You either don’t notice that he’s slowly moved or you don’t realise what exactly is pressing into your backside. 

It’s obvious that you’re enjoying his hands on the back of your neck and the top of your shoulders; he doubts there’s anything that could distract you from it. Except if he got hard maybe, but he’s got more self control since he jerked off in the bathroom again after waking up with morning wood and with you by his side, just before he brought you some painkillers. 

“You’re so good with your hands, Logan,” you tell him, voice all raspy, and he smirks at the innuendo you don’t realise you’re making. 

“It’s what my girl deserves,” he says, pulling a smile and a hum from your lips. 

“I’m your girl?” you ask shyly, eyes still closed as his knuckles drag over your skin. 

“O’course you are, bub.” He’s not sure in what way you interpret the pet name but he can tell you like it, hearing how your heartbeat speeds up just that little bit. You like being his, and he likes that. 

-

It’s during a particularly horny evening that Logan comes to your room. He’s jerked off twice today to pictures of you — pictures he’s snuck over the time he’s known you, you smiling as you laugh at a tv show, stretching on the sofa not realising that he’s got his phone out, or that one photo of you smiling all shyly on the day you first met him and he showed you around the mansion. Jean asked to take a picture to commemorate the day you joined them, and he remembers the way he slid his arm around the back of your waist and you placed your hand shyly on his back, smiling all adorably. 

He’s got a picture of you in a bikini from that one time you two went swimming but he keeps that for special occasions. Today was one of those special occasions, and he came all over his phone screen, cursing when he had to clean it afterwards; he even had to get the phone case off and all. 

But you still won’t leave his head for even just a second, so he decides it’s time for the next step. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with anything, but he also just really wants you. Can’t help it. He’s a selfish man but any man would be if he knew you the way Logan did. He knocks at your door. “Yeah?” you call out. 

You grin when he steps in and closes the door behind himself. You stretch out your arms for a hug to greet him, even though you only saw him a few hours ago. He joins you where you’re sitting on your bed with your laptop. Logan turns the screen towards him, hoping to find something naughty but he should have known better. It’s just some video essay on a topic he’s never even heard of. He shuts the laptop. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you tell him, genuinely focussed, “If I’m your girl then what are you to me? My boy sounds weird, and my man.. I don’t know.”

He almost forgot that he called you his girl to your face, and he smirks when he imagines you thinking about it these past few days. He lies down on his side, invading your space, almost touching you with how close he is next to you.

 “I can be anything you like, bub.” 

You shrug shyly, “Maybe you’re just my Logan.” 

He’s surprised at how much that turns him on. You being his, that’s one thing. But him being yours? Those two things go hand-in-hand, of course, but he thought you were still a long way off from liking him as much as he likes you. 

It encourages him to ask you what he’s been thinking about for days. He says it casually. “So, had any success touching yourself?” He uses that tame expression so that you’re less embarrassed.

Still, your eyes widen slightly and you immediately start playing with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean,” he smirks, “Don’t gotta be embarrassed around me. We’ve been over this.” Although, for a second he wonders if you even remember the conversation. You were drunk after all, and he considers feeling bad, but then you smile. 

“I know, but… I haven’t tried it since. I’ve thought about it but I still don’t know what to do.” He’s got you right where he wants. 

“Y’know, I don’t mind showing you. You deserve to feel good.” 

You look away, “What would you even show me? And how? Guys are different down there.” Oh, you’re so innocent. He’s having so much fun. 

“I could touch you.” He watches you experience a multitude of emotions as you think about it. Shame, intrigue, resolve. 

“Wouldn’t that be weird for you?” 

“Not at all, don’t worry about me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure, bub.” 

You look around you, putting your laptop and your phone on your nightstand, “What do I do?” you ask, playing with the blanket. 

“I’ll just touch you a bit, okay? Just get you used to the feeling,” he tells you, both of you sitting up and he pulls your legs around his waist, gently touching all over your inner thighs, squeezing the flesh.

You’re already arching your back, scooting closer to him, and he lifts your shirt up over your hip and sees the wet spot on your panties. He’s not sure if you notice how hard he is under his sweatpants but no one could blame him for that. You’re getting so worked up and he hasn’t even touched you anywhere near your pussy, you’re breathing so heavily and your heart is beating so fast.

“Y’want a kiss, bub?” Logan asks you all sweetly, and you lean in as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your lips on his are messy but eager, and Logan loves that he can feel that it’s your first kiss. You don’t know what you’re doing but you need it – need him. 

But he has to stop at some point because it’s getting harder to not fuck you, so he gently pulls away, and you grin shyly when the kiss is over. Logan leans in one more time for a quick kiss. He pushes you backwards a bit and looks between your spread thighs. You’re so wet. You’re squirming under his gaze.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your panties and your breathing gets shaky when his finger grazes your belly. You bite your lip and nod.

“Good girl,” he says, pulling your underwear down your thighs with one hand, eyes glued to your pussy. You’re so wet and sticky already, and your pussy looks even better than anything he’s imagined – and he’s imagined it a lot.

He wants nothing more than to fuck you, or eat you out at least, but he’s supposed to be showing you how to masturbate, so he lies down next to you.

“So, if you were alone, you might touch yourself like this.” He takes his hand between your thighs, softly touching your clit. You’re leaning into him, head against his shoulder as you watch his big hand between your thighs. It looks so right there. You look to your side and gaze up at Logan, and you can’t help but just kiss him again.

And while you’re kissing, Logan puts his palm on your pussy and starts rubbing you a bit rougher, and you become too distracted to keep kissing him.

“You like when I play with your clit?” he teases you and you nod, hiding your face in his neck. Logan moves down to fuck one of his fingers into you, then two, and you’re whimpering against his warm skin. With his palm still rubbing against your clit, you have your first ever orgasm with Logan and you hold onto him as the pleasure flows through your body.

He keeps going until you put your hand around his wrist to stop him and you shyly smile up at him. “Was that good, bub?” 

You answer with a weak “yeah”, your voice hoarse but you’re smiling and your skin is glowing. Logan pulls his hand away and shows you how your arousal sticks to his fingers, and your eyes search his because you’re not sure if this is a good or bad thing.

Your mouth opens when Logan takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks your taste off them. “Taste so fucking good, baby. You wanna taste yourself?” And he waits patiently until you’ve made your mind up but you nod and let him put one of his fingers into your warm, wet mouth. You suck on it for much longer than necessary and Logan tries to save the image in his brain for later.

He holds you for a bit as you comprehend that you’ve just had an orgasm for the first time in your life. You shyly thank him before he leaves and he makes you promise that you’ll try it again by yourself soon. That was the whole point of this, after all – nothing to do with Logan or anything.

-

Logan thought he’d be satisfied for a bit, but all it’s done is make him even needier for you. You’re so oblivious to all his flirting, and he’s sure you genuinely thought he just wanted to show you how to masturbate the other day. 

Of course, he could just ask you out, but it’s more fun this way. He likes watching you figure stuff out. He wonders how long it’ll take you to realise that he actually likes you, that teaching you how to jerk off maybe wasn’t only in your best interest but in his too.

He’s a bit pathetic when it comes to you at this point, though. As much as he’s teasing you, it’s also teasing him. It’s a bit of a low point, but he pretends to be in a bad mood to get your attention.

You come to his room in the late afternoon when you haven’t seen him all day, and you’re so kind and so caring and immediately worried when you see him sprawled in bed in his pyjamas that consist of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.

“You okay? What happened?” you close the door and sit on his bed immediately.

Logan fake sighs, suppressing a smile as he pouts exaggeratedly. “Nothing, bub. Don’t you worry about me.” He squeezes your knee to reassure you, and he watches you perk up at his touch.

“You know you can always talk to me,” you smile kindly, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He doesn’t usually talk about emotions and feelings all that much, but you’re always trying to get him to open up because it’s good for him, so he knows he’s got you with this.

“I’m just feeling a bit down today. That’s all. Don’t wanna bother you with my problems.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m always here for you.”

He watches you gnawing on your lip as you think about what to say next, and Logan waits curiously. “Have you uh, jerked off today? I think an orgasm would cheer anyone up, if it feels as good as you made me feel the other day.”

And Logan’s all like “I’ve tried but it’s been so long since a woman touched me, and my own hand just isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

He gets hard immediately when you perk up, smiling with your sweet expression and saying, “I could help you! I hate seeing you so sad”.

And Logan pretends, saying “no, bub, I’d never ask that of you,” but you sit up on your knees and say “I really wouldn’t mind! And I owe you for last time anyway.”

“If you’re really sure?” 

You nod sweetly and brush your hair out of your face and ask, “where do you want me?”

And even just you asking that is something that will stay in his mind for a long time. He feels like you’d do anything he asked of you right now and it’s already driving him crazy. He says “just next to me here, bub. Yeah there is fine”. 

You lean in to kiss him and he only pulls away out of surprise, and you’re blinking back at him with wide eyes, apologising, “It’s just cause you kissed me last time, I thought— I thought it’s part of–”

“Yeah, baby, it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me again.”

You give him a cheeky smile and nod, “of course I wanna kiss you. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you”. 

Logan grins and bites his lip and says “me too, bub”, and leans in and kisses you again, basically attacking you with his mouth. He can tell it’s getting a little much for you with the way he’s eating you alive so he stops himself and asks “was that too much?” 

You shake your head, “just don’t know how to kiss like that yet.” And he likes that. Yet. Maybe he can sneak in some kissing lessons at some point, just to show you how it’s done of course, no other reason. 

You look down at his lap then and it’s obvious how hard he is. “Y’wanna you touch it like this first?” he asks you, grabbing himself over his sweatpants, the outline becoming clearer.

And you nod so eagerly, but get a bit shy when you’re touching his cock, one of your knees pulled up to your chest as you palm him over his sweatpants. “It’s so big,” you marvel, oblivious to how much this is affecting Logan.

“You wanna see?”

You tell him yes and he pulls the waistband down, and you lean closer when he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself just a few times to relieve the pressure. 

You bring a finger to his mouth like he did for you the other day, and he chuckles, “that won’t be enough, bub”. Your cheeks burn when you say “oh”.

“Here,” he moves your hand so your open palm is facing him and he spits into it.

“Now do this,” Logan tells you, taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock, guiding you up and down with your spit-slicked palm. You watch in awe as you jerk him off, his hand never leaving the back of yours.

He could cum immediately like this, but he tries to savour the feeling a bit longer.

“Does it feel good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, doing so well, bub. Think you can do it by yourself?”

You shake your head with a smile. Yes, you could do it by yourself, but you like the feeling of him guiding you, setting the pace and intensity. He grins and continues, squeezing your hand tighter so that your grip on his cock tightens too.

Logan lets you jerk him off a bit longer before he gives in. He’s proud of you for not pulling away in surprise when he cums, coating your hand and his in his cum as ropes of white shoot over your skin and onto his shirt. He lets go of your hand to pull off his shirt and watches you examine your hand full of Logan’s cum.

“Can I taste it?” you ask in a quiet voice, and Logan just about gets hard again.

“Yeah,” he tells you, but pushes his own fingers into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his two fingers and suck the cum off, and Logan can’t help but push them further into your mouth, making you giggle. You pull his hand away after a bit, only to lick your own fingers. He uses the clean part of his shirt to dry your hand off after, and you lie down to cuddle him.

“Do you feel better?”

Logan chuckles, “Yeah, bub, I feel better. Thanks.”

“Good,” you grin, proud of yourself. Logan’s proud of you too.

-

It’s still the same day when you come to his room the next time. You left after a bit to go to sleep, but now there are knocks on Logan’s door that he recognises as yours before you say anything.

You enter his room in your pyjamas – a big shirt – and some fluffy socks, a plushie under your arm. You look so oh so innocent that he almost feels bad for corrupting you. You come in, close the door, and sit on his bed again, legs dangling off the side of it. He could really get used to you being in here.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, but you ignore him, hugging your plushie for comfort.

 “I… can you maybe…” you let out a sigh, “I tried to masturbate but I can’t do it by myself. Can you show me again?” 

Maybe you’re not so innocent anymore. He chuckles and tells you of course, and he’s starting to wonder if you’ve caught on to the game that he’s playing, and if you’ve joined him, but he’d still bet money that you really are this naive. Logan pulls his full length mirror in front of his bed, not too close, but close enough that you can see yourself in it. 

He moves to lift your shirt to get your panties off, and his heart skips a beat as he’s greeted by the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening.

“It was easier to come with them already off,” you say, and he reaaally has to restrain himself so he doesn't bend you over and take you right here.

You drop your stuffed toy to the side of Logan’s bed as he sits you in front of the mirror, getting behind you, putting his legs either side of you.

“God, you’re so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it as he makes you look at yourself in the mirror, legs spread.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Logan,” you say, shying away from looking in the mirror.

“You can do it, bub. I got you, okay?”

You’ve turned around to look at him better, and he chuckles when he gets it.

“Is this what you need?” he asks as he leans in to kiss you, and you moan yes into his mouth. He loves you so fucking much.

His dick is already so hard and he’s not sure if you can feel it pressing into your ass, but either way you’re not complaining. He takes your chin to make you face yourself in the mirror, and he can’t get enough of seeing you two in it together – the way he’s sitting behind you like this, imagining other positions you two could be in.

“Here,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, even though you’re already wet enough, watching you suck on it eagerly. His finger stays in your mouth much longer than necessary.

He starts gently rubbing your clit in circles, and you squirm in his arms that are around you, one on your waist, the other between your legs.

“I did that too, but it feels better when you do it,” you mumble after a while, clearly enjoying it but unsure what you were doing wrong when you did it yourself.

“Try it.” Logan takes your hand, and makes you do it yourself. You’re squirming with him watching you like this, but it is useful to sit in front of the mirror, copying how he played with your pussy just moments ago.

Logan’s not blind to how wet you are, at having him watching and guiding you, and he can’t help it as he reaches into his boxers to jerk off. He doesn’t get his cock out but he’s not hiding it. You can see the movement of his arm in the mirror and you might even be able to feel it at your back, as Logan’s fist grazes your shirt every now and then as he strokes himself.

But you’re so focussed on looking between your own legs that Logan is genuinely not sure if you’ve noticed him jerking off, and the sounds of your wet pussy are louder than his hand on his cock.

“I… I can’t,” you whine after a bit, taking your hand away from your pussy, but Logan is close, and he wants you to cum too.

He keeps jerking off, and he sees you noticing it, sitting up a bit taller but you don’t seem to mind. You’re smiling, biting your lip.

“Yeah, you can, baby. Here, we’ll do it together.” He keeps a hand on his cock, reaching around you to put your hand back between your legs, and then he pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, fucking you with them.

“You close, bub? I’m close,” he says, and the idea of cumming together with Logan makes your pussy squeeze around his fingers, so you do your best to recreate the pattern on your clit that Logan showed you, rubbing it in circles until you get the right angle.

“Good girl, that’s it. So tight around my fingers. Come on now.” Logan’s so close he has no idea how he’s still holding off, sloppily jerking his cock with one hand and fucking your pussy with his fingers on the other hand.

You lean your head back, landing on Logan’s shoulder, as your orgasm pulses through you. Logan can feel your pussy spasming around him, and he lets go too, cumming over his hand and his boxers.

You’re both out of breath for a while after, barely moving.

“Y’did it, bub,” he kisses the top of your head, and you smile at him through the mirror, turning to press a messy kiss to the side of his face. He won’t take that though, so he grabs your face, smearing some of his cum on your cheek, and pulls you to face him for a proper kiss. You smile against his mouth as you make out.

You sleep in his room again that night, but he can’t say it feels like you know that he likes you yet. He’ll have fun watching you figure it out soon.

-

✧ reblog and let me know your thoughts for Logan to appear in your dreams tonight <3

[godsfavdarling]

Anything for my sweet girl

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader words: 820 warnings: pure smut, unprotected sex, creampie, soft!dom!spencer, crying during sex, praise, use of butt plug. a/n: i think i'm ovulating. i'm sorry.

You loved the way Spencer towered over you, pressing you harder and harder into the mattress, pumping into you and filling your cunt with loads of cum. The feeling of his long cock brushing against your walls and his tip hitting that soft spot at the end was exhilarating. You loved being stuffed by him, being filled up, with his cum dripping out of you - down your legs and onto your ass. 

This time, it felt even better because Spencer sheepishly asked if he could put a butt plug in you. You didn’t know why he was so afraid of asking - you loved the idea. As soon as he said the words, you got excited, eager for the sensation of being even more filled up. You wondered how it felt for him. Were you tighter? Could he feel the plug? Would he pull it out and fuck your other hole later?

He kept thrusting long after he had already come. To be fair, he got hard again quite quickly and was clearly not done with you. He could spend all day buried inside you, with you underneath him, and you would gladly lay there, letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

“Please don’t stop,” you said between your moans.

“I’m not gonna stop, angel. I’m gonna keep going, as long as you want,” Spencer murmured, his voice rough with desire as he maintained his steady rhythm inside you. Each thrust was deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge, making you gasp and squirm beneath him. “You’re doing so well for me. You’re such a good girl.” His words were like a caress, making you whimper with pleasure and longing. 

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes, a mix of overwhelming pleasure and emotional release. Spencer had no intention of stopping soon, not when you sounded so sweet and so wet under him. He could feel your body trembling with every motion, your soft cries fueling his relentless need to keep going.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he asked teasingly.

All you could do was let out another cry.

“Oh, it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. You’re so perfect, so perfect for me,” he said as he kissed away the tears that began to flow down your cheeks.

Now you were moaning even louder, scratching his back as he kept going, hitting that sweet spot with the tip of his cock.

“You feel so good, so tight. You’re enjoying having a plug in your ass, aren’t you? You like being filled up, my pretty girl?” 

You couldn’t utter a word. Your mind was hazy, reaching a high you’d never quite experienced. 

“Come on, pretty girl, come back to me. I need you to speak up,” he said, lowering his lips to your ear, which didn’t help things. His lips near your neck and his breath on your sweat-covered skin drove you wild.

“Feels so good,” you managed to say between cries, your voice trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Your body was arching with each thrust, and you could barely form coherent thoughts, lost in the sensation.

“How good?” Spencer’s voice was a low growl, his breath hot against your ear. He leaned closer, his chest pressing against yours, making your heart race even faster. He wanted to hear you, to know just how much you were feeling.

You couldn’t speak anymore. You were getting closer to the edge, your cries and whimpers coming faster and louder. Your grip on the sheets tightened, your entire body trembling with the force of your impending climax.

“Oh, baby, I’ve got you. You can let go. Come on, pretty. Cum for me.” His words were a soft, coaxing murmur, his hands caressing your sides as if to anchor you in the moment. He could feel your muscles clenching around him, making his breath hitch with every movement.

Your pussy clenched around him, which made him twitch, but he managed to push himself all the way to the brim, his cockhead brushing against your cervix. You could feel every inch of him, and the sensation was almost too much to bear.

“Oh, God, baby, you can’t be doing that,” he said teasingly, his voice strained with his own desire. He grinned down at you, his eyes dark with need, clearly enjoying the way your body responded to him.

“Please keep going.” The words were barely a whisper, almost lost in your gasps, but the urgency in your tone was unmistakable.

“You sure, angel?” His hand cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that had spilled over, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

“Yes, please.” You could barely breathe, your voice a desperate plea, the intensity of your need evident in every breathless word.

“Okay, anything for my sweet girl.” He said it with a mix of tenderness and raw desire, his gaze softening as he leaned in to kiss you.

[rosenclaws]

Don't hide from me || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You get hurt on a mission and hide it from Logan. Safe to say he is not happy with you.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, talk of violence, blood, and injury

wc: 3k

a/n: Hi guys, tw for pet death but we had to put my childhood dog to sleep today. He was 16 and he had a good life but it's rough. Writing has always helped me so I just sat down and wrote today. I'm always a sucker for this kind of trope and I also have trouble asking for help so this was born. Idk if I like the ending but I always struggle with those so oopsie

This was not how you imagined your first mission to go. You had assumed it would be easy, boring in fact. It was supposed to be boring. Maybe a little fighting here or there but nothing serious.

Well you were sorely mistaken. Your hand puts pressure on your side as you lean against a tree. The rough bark digging into the cuts on your suit. You wince as you look down to see a massive gash right in your stomach.

"Fuck." Your breath is labored as you slowly slide down the tree. You don't heal like some of the other mutants can. In fact your powers were relatively tame compared to others but you were still an asset to the team.

You had been training for months and months. Learning to control your sparks into blasts of energy and manipulate the electricity around you. You had never been more excited to receive your suit. Handed to you by Logan himself after your final training day.

The proud look on his face made your whole body fill with butterflies. Logan had been your biggest help. He was a very distracting teacher though due to the fact that he's your boyfriend too but if anything that made him push you harder.

"Come on sweetheart, you need to do better than that." He says with a smirk. He's barely broken a sweat while you've been giving it a hundred and ten percent.

"Fuck off." You huff as you lay down on the mat. Body exhausted from the hours of training.

"You're getting better. Just need to keep working." He steps over you, bending down and holding out his hand.

"One more time and we're done." He helps you up and kisses your forehead. Walking back to his spot he raises his arms and braces himself.

"Hit me." Taking a deep breath you channel all your power to your fingertips. Feeling the jolts of power start to form. With all your strength you fire right at Logan. To your surprise it hits him square in the chest and sends him flying into the wall.

"Logan!" You run over to him but he's already up by the time you make it. A big smile on his face as he wraps his arms around you. A burst of pride in your chest as he kisses you sweetly.

"I knew you could do it."

It made it even sweeter when you were finally deemed ready to join them. You were ready. You wanted to prove to all of them that you could do it but most of all you wanted to show Logan.

Show him that all his extra training helped and that you were strong and you could do this on your own. He had always shown a slight worry about you joining the team. He says it's because he's worried and protective but a small part of your brain tells you it's because he thinks you can't do it. That you're not ready.

So this. Well it almost felt embarrassing. The mission was nothing new to the rest of the team but to you it was overwhelming. Fighting with everything you had and sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough. You took out soldier after soldier but they kept coming. But you were fine. You never asked for backup. Convincing yourself that you could do this. Thinking back to all your long days in the simulation and wiping away any doubt that lingered in your head.

Logan had left your side early on much to his reluctance so you were on your own. You were too focused on the guy in front of you that you didn't notice the man sneaking behind you. You cried out in pain as he dug his knife into your side.

Without thinking you blast him far away, taking out the guy in front of you too. Pure adrenaline courses through you as you run to safety. Now you're here, the sounds of fighting still rage on behind you. Blood is seeping onto your hand at a faster rate than normal.

"Okay. Okay. Okay okay." Sorry Professor but you'll fix your suit later. Your sleeve was already torn so you tear the rest as much of it as you can off. Turning it into one long strip of fabric. You unzip the top of your suit to get to the wound. They briefly taught you how to patch up injuries more akin to scratches not stab wounds. You tie the fabric tightly around your waist. You groan as the pressure shoots a sharp pain through your body. The sounds of fighting were dying down.

You know you should tell someone but the last thing you wanted was to be taken off the team after your first mission. You wanted to make them proud. You loved being on the team.

The injury isn't that bad, if you could just make it back to the mansion you would be fine. Patch it up with the right material and then sleep it off. Thank god you and Logan didn't share a room. Fuck. Logan. He was going to kill you but what he didn't know won't hurt him.

Just this once.

Zipping up your suit again you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. Just make it back to the mansion. You walk as best you can back to the jet. Your limping, favoring your non injured side and it's incredibly obvious. Still you put a smile on your face. The team clocks your ripped sleeve immediately. Logan scowls as you get closer making you shiver. Or maybe that was from the blood loss.

"So how was that for your first mission?" Scott beams as he walks over to you. He slaps his hand onto your shoulder and you wince.

"Good. Is it always like this?" He notices something's off but doesn't say anything. Instead he keeps his hand on your shoulder as he guides you back to the jet.

"You alright Sparks? What happened to your suit." He asks when you get closer.

"Long story, some guy ripped it and when I ran to the forest it got caught and just. tore away." You lie right through your teeth.

"Don't worry we'll fix it when we get back." Ororo smiles and you thank god they bought it. Well almost everyone bought it.

As you head up the ramp you feel a hand on your side. Your whole body tenses as pain shoots through your side. You bite your lip hard to keep yourself from screaming. You recognize the hand as Logan's as his wide chest bumps against your back.

"You alright sweetheart?" He asks, a skeptical look on his face as you wave his hand off.

"Yeah, just really tired." You sigh as you sit in a chair.

Some relief spreads through your body as you subtly press the arm of the chair into your side. Putting more pressure as you feel the blood soak through your makeshift bandage. He narrows his eyes as he inspects you like an animal. Your heart picks up as he places both hands on either arm rest, caging you in as he leans close.

"What are you doing?" You shrink under his intense look. He sniffs and a low growl emits from his throat.

"I smell blood. Somethings wrong." Fuck. He's caught you. The rest of the team starts to file back in.

"Yeah there's blood on everyone's suit, there's blood on you." You mumble as an excuse.

"Down boy, we're taking off so take a seat." Scott says. Logan stays put for just a moment longer before he finally backs off, flipping Scott the middle claw as he takes the seat behind you.

You can feel his eyes burning in the back of your head the whole flight home. You were sweating, body on fire as you focused on your breathing. The pain was getting worse and you wanted to cry for help. But you were determined to prove yourself here.

Your brain wasn't exactly working right either. Too focused on not throwing up to think logically. Finally the jet lands. You're so close. Just a little longer. Logan moves to go right back to your side but gets pulled away. You can vaguely hear him telling someone to fuck off as you stumble out of the jet.

You feel like a zombie as you walk back to your room. Stomach growing sick as you struggle to stay awake. Sweat pours down your face, body screaming for help as you barely make it to your room. Your vision goes in and out. The darkness calling to you as you swing open your door. That sounds nice, you can just close your eyes and sleep. Yeah. Then you can fix yourself up. Your vision goes black. The last thing you remember is someone yelling your name.

-

The first thing you notice when you come back to consciousness is how much your body hurts. The second thing was the hand that was holding yours tightly. Clearly you weren't in your room anymore. This bed is too uncomfortable and it smells too much like antiseptic.

The lab. You were in a hospital bed in the lab which means that someone found you which can only mean that Logan knew and you were in so much trouble. Maybe if you keep your eyes closed you can just go back to sleep. The urge to avoid the consequences of your actions was strong but you knew you couldn't. You lied and now you have to deal with it.

Surprisingly it's dim when you open your eyes. The ugly florescent lighting was off in favor of a few candles and a soft lamp. The hand holding yours twitched, holding you tighter. Looking to your side you see Logan laying his head on the bed. Guilt seeps into your soul when you see him there.

"Glad to see you awake." A soft voice says from the door.

"Jean." You sheepishly say. She flicks on the lights and you squint your eyes at the bright light.

"You're lucky that Logan found you when he did." Her voice is gentle but there's anger hidden behind it.

"I'm sorry. I thought." You sigh and look at Logan who was still sleeping.

"I thought I could handle it. I just wanted to be one of you guys." "You already were one of us, but we're just glad you're okay." She checks your vitals once more in silence.

"Am I in trouble?" You ask nervously.

"Yes." Another voice makes your heart jump, the monitor picking it up with a massive spike.

"Logan honey I-" He holds up his hand and silently asks Jean to leave. She gives you one last smile before leaving the two of you alone.

"Don't. Don't you dare." You shrink into the bed as speaks.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I-"

"Hiding a fucking stab wound? For what? Exactly what did you think would happen here!" He raises his voice and you look down in shame.

"You are benched. Permanently." He growls, standing up and storming towards the door.

"What! Logan you can't do that."

"Fuck yes I can. Do you understand how stupid it was for you to hide an injury like that? How irresponsible you were!"

"I thought I could handle it!" The machines near you started to go haywire as you yelled back.

"I thought you were dead!" You go silent as the anger fades, he clenches his fists tightly.

"I smelled the blood and I knew something was wrong. The whole time I knew it. There was a trail of blood to your room and I ran and ran and when I finally got there." He pauses. Not even wanting to say the next thought.

"I'm sorry." You whisper.

You reach out for him but he just stares at you. A painful expression on his face as his eyes zero in on the prominent scar on your side. He shakes his head, turning away and walking out the door.

"Logan please." You beg for him to come back but he doesn't.

The lab is silent and lonely. Jean comes back to check on you, comforting you as you silently cry. All you want is for Logan to come back but he never did.

At least not while you were awake. In the mornings there were traces of Logan. His jacket is left on your bed the one you always steal to cuddle with. Snacks are waiting by your table. Little things to show you had still been there. Just not when you were awake.

It was only a couple days later that you were finally discharged. The Professor had called you to his office, letting you know that you were benched until you had fully recovered and you nodded in understanding. You can feel the stares of the rest of the mansion on you as you walk back to your room.

You've apologized over and over to the team and they welcomed you back with open arms. Begging you to never scare them like that again. Your mind wanders and your feet seem to think on their own as you find yourself in front of Logan's door.

All you want is for him to hold you and to tell you it's okay. Before you can knock on the door it swings open. There he stands in all his glory. He stares at you for a moment before pulling you into a hug. It takes you by surprise but you hug him back tighter. You wince as he pushes a little too hard on your side and he lets go instantly. You don't want to let go, he's been gone for days and you need him.

"I'm here to apologize." You say.

"I'm sorry for not saying anything. I was afraid that you would think I'm weak." It hurts to admit but he needs to know the truth. Asking for help has never been your strong suit.

"That I wasn't strong enough and all I wanted was to prove to you that I could do it. I wanted you to be proud of me." You wait for any response but all he does is look at you. Silently he guides you to his bed. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders that smells like him.

"When I found you, you weren't moving. There was so much blood. You were barely breathing." He shivers at the memory.

He doesn't think he'll ever get the smell of your blood and the sight of you sprawled out on the ground out of his mind. It's burned there. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it. He ran through the mansion. Begging for help with you in his arms.

They kicked him out once he brought you to the lab. He was close to breaking down the damn doors. He had super strength and a raging healing factor but he'd never felt so powerless before. When they finally let him back in he rushed to the bed. He never left your side. Watching and waiting for you to wake up. Begging you to wake up.

Was this his fault? If he had been by your side would he have been able to help? Or is this just the price of this life. To be a mutant and having to fight just to live. Losing you was not an option but it was becoming a reality he had to accept was possible.

"I'm always proud of you. Doesn't matter what you do. I'm always proud." You tug on his tank top and pull him close.

Kissing him with a soft passion, a desire, an apology. He carefully lowers you down to the bed. He lays you on your side as he deepens the kiss, hand ghosting over the scar as he tangles his limbs with yours.

"I'm so sorry Logan." You bury your head in his chest.

It feels so good to be by his side again. He tilts your head up to look at him. He grows serious as he brushes your cheek gently. You're alive but there's still a horrible worry inside of him. Though he doesn't think that will ever go away. Not as long as he loves you and he's never going to stop doing that.

"Don't ever do something like this again. I'm serious sweetheart, I can't lose you."

"You won't." You can't promise him that. Not at all. Bad things happen to those he loves but he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to you. You yawn and cuddle closer to his side.

"How can I still be so tired after sleeping for so long?"

"You really hurt yourself sweetheart," He glances at your side. Knowing that under the blanket was a scar that would never fade. A constant reminder of his own failure to protect you.

"I'm sorry for leaving," He knows it was a dick move to leave has he had done but he couldn't take it. He was so angry. So afraid.

"Just don't leave me again." You say sleepily. His arms wrap around you, his hand rubbing your back soothingly until you fall asleep. He watches you for a while. Not tired himself but keeping his promise of staying with you.

"I was so scared," He admits to no one but himself.

He rests his chin on your head. The sound of your heartbeat echoes in his ears. The sweet reminder that you're okay. He closes his eyes as the nightmares in his mind return. Seeing your lifeless body. The blood. All of it. He tries to shake them away but the thoughts still linger.

"Please, don't leave me. I love you too much to let you go." He whispers his plea to himself, to you, to whoever is listening.

He kisses the top of your head and you smile in your sleep. The comfort of Logan reaching your dreams. That's good enough for him, as long as you're okay. That's all he needs.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

hii, I‘ve already made two requests and you‘ve written them so so beautifully <33 Your work is really amazing and I think I would consider you one of my favorite blogs💞💞 I do have one more idea :)

Reader and Jason are in a relationship, yet they don’t know about his vigilante identity. Reader works the night shift as a barista.

One night, the café gets robbed during reader’s shift, but Jason isn’t there to take care of the robber since he went on patrol only later, meaning the GCPD is the first on the scene.

When Red Hood passes the café and see’s all the police lights, his heart drops. He comes to check up on reader, but they’re so shaken up that jason scares them.

It’s all fluffy in the end, and perhaps Red Hood reveals his identity 😚

Promises

Hi, nonnie! Thank you! ~1.8k words

There was a gun to your face about ten minutes ago. Well, it might have been ten minutes ago, you're not exactly sure how long it was now. The idea of time seemed to phase out when two masked robbers stormed into the little Café you worked at.

Who even robs a coffee shop? You had maybe thirty dollars in the till, everyone uses cards or just taps their phones anyway. That point didn't seem to get across to the men as they waved their pistols in your face and shot off rounds into the air.

You showed them the safe, and a few hundred dollars seemed to calm them down. They took the money, took your wallet and phone. But none of that stopped them from shoving you to the ground as they ran off. You just sat there– dazed, scared, and overwhelmed– until a patrol car from the GCPD and an ambulance rushed to park outside.

No one was hurt, maybe some bruises from being pushed around, but you and the two unfortunate people who wanted coffee half past midnight were more than a little shaken up.

You stumble through the questions the cops ask you and let the paramedics guide you to sit on the back of the ambulance. They drape a shock blanket over your shoulders as you murmur about needing to call your boyfriend.

Someone presses a hot drink into your hands, and you barely register the quiet conversations over this being the fourth small business to get robbed this week. Your eyes only leave the spot in the distance you're fixated on when gasps resonate throughout the air. Your gaze shifts up, and your breath leaves your lungs. Red Hood. Red Hood is stalking towards you like lives depend on it, avoiding the medics and cops that try to talk to him, to get his attention.

You're proud of the fact that you don't flinch when his gloved hand meets your face, carefully tilting your chin up to observe your face. His body is rigid, you can tell something's wrong even through the muddled, shocked state of your mind.

He's crowding over you, a barrier between you and the rest of Gotham. You know he's a vigilante, you know that he helps. But the moment frays the last of your nerves and tears fill your eyes.

You just want to go home. You just want to feel safe. You want your phone back and you want to call your boyfriend and have him make everything okay again.

Red Hod freezes and you can audibly hear his breath hitching. His fingers twitch against your skin before dropping, but he doesn't step away, "Sorry. I'm sorry– Did I– are you hurt?"

That only makes you want to cry harder. He's apologizing to you. This stranger hasn't done anything, but check if you're okay, and you're crying all because he looks big and a little scary. You shake your head, trying to find the words to apologize back, that you don't know why you're crying.

You shift back, even if there's no room to go anywhere. Your heart is pounding and you're scared even if you shouldn't be because there was a gun to your face and you could have died and the man that smells like gunpowder and leather can't fix that.

His head doesn't move, you know his eyes haven't left your face. You don't know why. He doesn't gain anything from lifting his hand to catch the tear that spills down your face. "You're okay. You're safe," he murmurs, steady and full of promise, "tell me what you need. Let me make it better." He says your name, says it softly and gently and damn near yearning.

"I need– I want my phone. I want to call you boyfriend," You answer shakily, blinking back the rest of your tears and trying to figure out why a vigilante knows your name.

His head turns, presumably looking for your phone, "Is it still inside the Café?"

You shake your head, voice heavy with emotion, "It– they stole it."

"They?" He questions, mask tilting back towards you.

"The robbers?" You answer weakly, Isn't that why he's here? To get information? To catch them?

His hand finally leaves your face, and you exhale softly in relief, "I'll take care of it."

He wavers in front of you. Another thing that doesn't make sense. You don't get another word out before he's disappeared into the shadows.

Your shoulders slump. You're so tired and so, so drained, and not even the hot drink in your hands is making you feel more in your body.

Someone calls your name. Jason. You stand up on shaky legs, nearly spilling the cup in an attempt to put it down quickly. Jason's here. You don't care why or how, but he's here. He has you wrapped up against his chest and face buried in your hair before the cops can even try to stop him.

He says your name over and over into your hair, and you try to ignore the way your tears stain his shirt. "I've got you, you're okay. You're okay, baby. Promise. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you," he murmurs, arms tightening around you.

He feels safe. He smells like– he smells like leather and gunpowder. He's big and warm and a barrier between you and the rest of the world. And it all clicks.

"Let's get you home," he says softly, gently, so careful with a voice full of yearning and love. You recognize it. And you know.

Jason knows your shift ends in forty-seven minutes. But patrol has been slow tonight, and he's going to walk you home even if it wasn't. So why not show up a little early and keep you company? Spoiler seemed eager enough to cover his territory for a few hours, anyway.

He'll go back out after he sees you home safe and watches you fall asleep. Jason's idly trying to decide if you're going to be too tired to shower with him, when the flashing lights outside the Café catch his attention.

He thinks his heart might have stopped. He doesn't even think to call Oracle or text you, he just knows his feet hit the pavement and he's running.

There's only one ambulance, only one cop car. His eyes dart. Where are you. Where are you?

He's barreling towards you as soon as he finds you. He doesn't have a plan. Doesn't need one until he knows you're safe. "Move," he snaps at the medic that tries to stop him, never stopping his path towards you.

His hand is tilting your head up before he even considers the possibility that it's a bad idea, that he's just a stranger in a mask armed to the teeth with knives and guns.

He can't help himself. He needs to touch you, needs to ground himself and make sure you're not hurt. He doesn't manage to get his words out before you're tearing up.

Jason's heart breaks at the sight, bile rising in his throat. He removes his hand, even if every instinct he has goes against it. He thinks he chokes out an apology, but he's too busy looking at every inch of you for injuries.

You shake your head and a piece of his soul shatters. He reaches up to wipe your tears, as if he could do anything else, "You're okay. You're safe," he murmurs, and wills it to be true, "tell me what you need. Let me make it better." He wants it to be better. He wants your tears to stop and the tension to leave your body and the anxiety to disappear from your eyes.

"I need– I want my phone. I want to call you boyfriend," You answer, and he wants to drop to his knees when your voice shakes.

Your phone. He can do that. His eyes dart from you, looking for the familiar phone case, "Is it still inside the Café?"

"It– they stole it," You answer and his focus snaps back to you.

"They?" He questions, doing his best to keep the anger from dripping into his voice, to bite back the threats on his tongue for whoever scared you.

"The robbers?" You answer weakly. Robbers. Robbers. Robbers did this. He files that away for once you're home, once he knows you feel safe.

He pulls his hand from your face reluctantly, "I'll take care of it." Jason doesn't want to step away from you. All he really wants is to wrap you up against him and promise everything will be better. But you don't need Red Hood. You need Jason Todd.

He forces himself away from you, moves faster than he should, struggling to shed his armor and mask. He drops his guns to the roof, anything recognizable left in a pile for someone else to deal with.

He's back on the ground and rushing back to you. He says your name. You look up at him and he sees the relief flood your face.

Jason catches you when you step towards him, arms wrapping around you to keep you close.

He whispers promises against your skin, tightening his grip on you. He can feel you crying. It makes concern and anger and the overwhelming desire to protect you twists in his stomach, "Let's get you home."

Jason– Red Hood– talks to the police for you. Insists that there's no more questions for you to answer as he hooks his arm firmly around your waist. He guides you home. You barely process a word he says.

All you can really focus on, as you watch him unlock the apartment door, is that he's Red Hood. How did you miss it? Why didn't you know?

You feel disoriented. But Jason's perfect, exactly what you need in the moment. He doesn't ask you questions, doesn't press or make you move too fast as he helps you change. He nods and gets you water when you say you don't want to shower, that you're not hungry.

He lets you curl against his chest and he kisses the crown of your head when you finally crawl into bed, "I was scared," You admit quietly into his skin.

"They'll never scare you again," he promises. Your stomach swoops. It's the truth. You know it's fact. They'll never scare you again. They'll never scare anyone again. He'll make sure of it.

You fall asleep to his comforting whispers and vows, the feel of his fingers tracing your skin. When you wake up, he's still next to you, still holding you flush against him. Your wallet and phone sit on the nightstand next to your bed. Neither of you mention it as the sun begins to shine on the familiar leather jacket folded over your chair. Neither of you mention it, later, when the news reports that two bodies were found in Gotham Harbor.

[revelboo]

PLEASEE I NEED MORE IDW MEGATRON

Guessing you mean exhausted leader of a bunch of backstabbing, barely competent, chaos children Megatron not exhausted co-captain of the Lost Light Megatron?

Skin and Bones Pt 5

IDW Megatron x Reader

• Scrolling through reports, he’s aware of you wandering around on his desk. Peering down at the Cybertronian glyphs on his keyboard. Almost absently, he nudges you away when you get too close to the edge of the desk then goes back to his report. Ignoring the bemused look you shoot him. Then you’re laying your little hands on the back of his hand to lean across and look at his datapad. Venting sharply, he freezes at that unexpectedly soft touch. “What are you doing, little one?”

• You glance up at the warlord, trying to decide if that slight frown means he’s annoyed or just exasperated and trying ignore the fact that when he calls you little it doesn’t sound condescending. It’s almost cute and better than some of the nicknames a few of the Decepticons have saddled you with. Like squishy or meat bag. “How hard is your language to learn?” You ask because you’re honestly curious and it sounds better than that you’re just bored out of your mind and want something to do.

• Shifting his hand, he rumbles in surprise as you go sprawling across the back of his hand on your belly. Before you can scramble away, he’s reaching over with the other hand, curling his servos around your little body to move you onto the desk between him and the datapad. Clearing the screen, he sketches a character and taps it. Makes a rasping noise that ends on a click. Another glyph, this one vocalized as a whirring sound and you stare up at him. There’s no learning this. You can’t even make those sounds.

• He’s already on the seventh glyph before he looks down and sees the look on your little face. It’s almost the same expression some of his younger soldiers had worn the first time they went into battle. Overwhelmed and terrified. Venting softly to stir your hair, he goes back to the first one. Enunciating carefully, he makes the sound. You look up at him and then make a noise. Mangling it far beyond recognition, but you’re trying. Again he makes the correct pronunciation and then waits. Face reddening, you try again. Still very wrong, but closer. “I can’t make those sounds.”

• “Not yet,” he replies, reaching out to gently use the tip of his servo to turn your face back to the datapad. “Can you draw the glyph?” Blowing out a breath, you lean over the datapad, laying a hand on the screen to copy his glyph. Well, that you’re good at. He runs a knuckle along your spine, feeling you lean into that stroke like you enjoy it. “Very good, little one,” he growls in Cybertronian, smiling indulgently as you peer up at him in confusion. Cautiously you offer him a smile that does strange things to his spark. Makes him uncertain how to feel, because he’s not sure he deserves anything soft or gentle after the things he’s done. Had to do. Certainly doesn’t deserve your trust. Shaking himself, he taps the second one and watches you sketch it out.

Previous Next

[steddieas-shegoes]

bad idea right

for @steddiesongfics July prompt using song lyrics from ‘bad idea right’ by olivia rodrigo

rated e | 1569 words | cw: alcohol, super mildly dubious consent because of the alcohol | tags: angst with a happy ending, post break up, exes to lovers, getting back together, sex

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Eddie isn’t afraid to admit that he makes mistakes. Sometimes, he makes big ones.

Answering the call from Steve is the first big one.

“Steve?” It’s been almost a year since he’s heard from him, their breakup being the finite end to any and all communication. “You okay?”

“Eddie! Oh my god. So I’m out right now, and I’m all fucked up, and I was thinkin’ ‘bout that time I got so drunk you had to carry me to my bed.” Eddie’s listening to Steve, but he feels like his soul is leaving his body. “You remember how gentle you were? You were so worried about tripping up the stairs and you kept cussing when you lost your grip. You kissed my head when you thought I was asleep.”

Steve’s words are slurred, but Eddie can make them out fine. He was good at understanding Steve all the time, even inebriated.

“I knew you were awake,” he gulps. Robin’s gonna kill him for even entertaining Steve like this. Actually, speaking of her- “Is Robbie with you?”

“No.” Eddie can hear the pout on his lips. “She’s on a date with her girlfriend.”

Right. She’d mentioned that to Eddie yesterday when they were texting about plans for next weekend.

Robin had refused to be split between her two best friends when they broke up, and rightfully so. She may have been Steve’s platonic soulmate, but she knew that what happened between them wasn’t Eddie’s fault. She made sure to spend time with Eddie when Steve was otherwise busy.

“Are you good to get home? I can send an Uber for you.” Eddie offers even though he’s sure Steve thought of that already. Even drunk, he would know how to get home.

“I can get my own Uber.”

“I know.”

“I missed your voice.”

Eddie is doing his fuckin’ best not to make his second big mistake tonight, but it’s not going well. He knows what’s gonna happen. He knows because he’s weak and loves Steve more than anything even after having his heart torn to pieces by him. Even knowing it’ll only lead to more heartbreak.

“You should get home, Stevie.”

“Missed that, too.”

It’s quieter on Steve’s end now, like he’s stepped away from whatever club or bar he’s holed up in, maybe outside to get some much needed fresh air. Eddie hopes it sobers him enough to realize what he’s done so he hangs up.

“Steve…”

“Can I come over?”

Eddie makes the second big mistake of the night and says yes.

-

When Steve arrives, he’s a beautiful mess.

He’s drunk, but the ride must’ve helped a little. His eyes are clear, his cheeks not as flush as they probably were before.

Eddie’s waiting at the door when he gets there, standing with a smile that doesn’t belong. He’s trying to be welcoming to a man who did everything to make sure he felt like he didn’t belong.

Steve is in his arms as soon as he makes it to the front door. Eddie’s third big mistake of the night is wrapping his arms around him as if he’d never stopped, as if this last year wasn’t the worst of his life and he’s barely made it through.

“Sorry I called. I didn’t know where to go.”

And now Eddie’s confused. He’s confused because Steve has an apartment of his own, one that he definitely knew how to get to even when drunk. Even if he didn’t, he would’ve been able to call Robin to help. Or Max. Or Lucas.

And he’s sure that Steve’s been drunk in the last year and not called him.

“Why couldn’t you go home?”

“Too quiet.”

11 months ago, almost to the day, Steve Harrington told Eddie Munson that he was too loud, too hyper, too messy.

11 months ago, Eddie Munson gathered whatever he could find in four minutes and left Steve’s apartment for the last time.

11 months ago, Steve ruined a three year relationship because he’d been feeling overwhelmed and didn’t tell Eddie until it was too late.

Now, Eddie Munson is sure that Steve Harrington is about to be his fourth big mistake tonight.

“You wanna come in?” He asks, already knowing Steve’s answer.

“Please.”

-

Steve is tucked into Eddie’s bed, curled around a pillow, mouth open as he snores quietly. Eddie watches him for a moment before tip-toeing from the room.

Robin’s livid when she answers her phone.

“This better be good. I was two fingers-“

“Steve’s here.” Eddie interrupts what was sure to be too much information about what Robin was getting up to on her date. “Drunk.”

“He just showed up at your house?” Robin sounds less mad now, more concerned, though he’s not sure who she’s more concerned about.

“He called first.”

“And you answered.”

“Yeah. Well.” Eddie sighs. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch, but just wanted you to know he’s safe and I’ll make sure he gets home tomorrow.”

“Eddie, I’m so sorry. He said he was just gonna watch a movie tonight or else I would’ve suggested he go hang with Dustin or something.”

“It’s not your job to babysit him.” Eddie doesn’t like the way she said that, but he’s probably reading too much into it. “He’s an adult.”

“Yeah, no. He’s. I mean, he’s fine. It’s just that we all try to keep his mind busy since…ya know.” Robin explains, though Eddie feels even more confused.

“Since he specifically told me I was too much for him?”

Robin’s silence speaks volumes.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is behind him and he’s quick to turn and make sure he’s okay. “Sleep?”

“I’ll text you,” he whispers to Robin before hanging up and turning to Steve. “You should go lay down. I’ll bring you some water.”

“You too?” Steve was blinking slowly, barely awake as he stood in Eddie’s living room.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stevie.”

“Is it because of what I said?”

It’s not the time for them to have this conversation, and it’s not the time for Eddie to wish he could forget it ever happened so he can hop into bed with Steve. But he thinks Steve is probably sobering up little by little, and if he expects Steve to sleep, he may have to do this.

“You made it very clear how you felt. I’m just trying to respect your space until I can get you home tomorrow.” Robin would be proud of how he’s handling this, he thinks. He’s at least keeping things civil even though his head is screaming at him.

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

Eddie stares at him, tries to find the telltale signs of Steve lying. He doesn’t see any.

Steve’s too tired and too buzzed to hide it.

“Then why did you say any of it?” Eddie feels his chest constricting, his heartbeat racing the longer he looks at him. “Why did you make me think I was too much?”

“My dad came by that day,” Steve’s head falls, his hands wringing in front of him. “My dad had spent two hours telling me I wasn’t enough and that I’d done nothing but disappoint him and I’d never be what he wanted. And it wasn’t the first time, but it was after my boss gave a promotion to someone else even though I was more qualified and my head was killing me and Robin and I had gotten into a stupid argument that morning and it was a bad day.”

Eddie’s staring at him, mouth wide open, watching as the man he loves falls apart.

“It’s no excuse. I shouldn’t’ve said any of it no matter what. Not when it’s not even true. I’ve never felt like you’re too much or too loud.” Steve’s stepping closer now. “I’ve always just wanted to soak up whatever energy you have. And I didn’t know how to tell you that you’re more than I deserve without saying you’re too much for what I can offer.”

Damn Steve Harrington and his charm, even when buzzed, even when exhaustion is causing him to curl into himself.

Damn Eddie’s inability to avoid his fifth mistake of the night.

He doesn’t know if he is the catalyst or if they both are, but suddenly his mouth is on Steve’s and teeth knock together, and there’s a slight taste of blood on Eddie’s tongue.

There’s moans and hands against skin and in hair and hard cocks rubbing against thighs and bruises on hips.

There’s Steve’s head hitting the pillow and Eddie’s mouth sucking marks into his stomach and inner thigh and the blanket falling off the bed as they try to strip out of their clothes too fast.

There’s laughter and soft touches and nails biting into skin and check-ins.

There’s love when Eddie holds his face in his hands as he slides into Steve for the first time in too long, and there’s hope when Steve cries out for more, and there’s passion that Eddie knows he’d never find with anyone else.

After, when there’s sweat and tears and cum and an unfortunate wet spot in the middle of the bed, there’s whispers of tomorrow and the next day and apologies and promises.

It may have been a bad idea answering Steve’s call, but Eddie’s happy to make more mistakes if it means keeping Steve in his arms and being enough for each other.

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part9. last time you wore that dress, it caused us some problems

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: Vi introduced you to her friends, you`ve spend a great evening and now you want to fulfill that promise you made.

・❥・ genre: smut + grumpy x sunshine

・❥・ word count: 3.4k

✎ warnings: 18+, SMUT, dom!vi, rough sex, fingering, strap-on, swearing, alcohol.

MINORS DNI!

RIDE ON ME masterlist

“cupcake?” - Vi called out to you while you were in the shower. “can you come to the kitchen when you're done?”

“give me a few minutes, please,” - you shouted back.

this morning, you woke up feeling a bit anxious. between work, studies, and your relationship, you barely had any time left for rest or for yourself. you couldn't even remember the last time you just lazed on the couch in silence or cooked in the kitchen. plus, today was exam day. you'd been studying all weekend, even your friends came over to study with you. passing the exams meant one thing - holidays. the very thought of it made you breathe a sigh of relief. that's why getting a high grade meant so much to you.

dressed in your robe and slippers, you made your way to the kitchen where Vi was making breakfast for the two of you, for which you were incredibly grateful, as you’d probably forget to eat without her. watching your girlfriend as she cooked, you smiled warmly. "I’m so lucky," - you thought.

“oh, cupcake! good morning, how are you feeling about the exam?” - Vi asked while the food sizzled deliciously in the pan.

“I'm alright, I think. I’m nervous, of course, but I can't fit any more information into my brain. whatever happens, happens today,” - you said, feeling overwhelmed by all the material you'd studied over the past few days.

“no matter what, I’m proud of you. you're so smart and hardworking, you've come such a long way this semester, and I have no doubt in you,” - Vi's words brought you comfort. it was nice to hear such encouragement from someone so important to you.

you hugged her from behind and murmured, - “you know you're the best in the world, right?” - burying your nose in her hair. Vi chuckled softly.

you stood there like that for a few minutes, not wanting to let go, but you had to leave in 20 minutes, and you were still in your robe. so, after kissing your girlfriend's amazing pink hair, you went to get ready. you put on your usual university outfit, tied your hair up in a bun, and came back out of the room.

while you were having breakfast with Vi, she mentioned that an old friend of hers was coming to town to celebrate their birthday, so she planned to go out.

“that sounds great, I’m glad you’ll be seeing your friends,” - you said as you finished your meal and started clearing your dishes.

“I was thinking, maybe you'd like to come with me? I'd love to introduce you to my friends,” - Vi said, taking your hand. “unless, of course, you’re planning to celebrate the end of the semester with your own friends.”

"meeting her friends is a big step, and if they are coming from another city just to see the group on their birthday, they must be really close," - you thought.

“of course,” - you said, squeezing her hand tighter. “honestly, we haven’t planned anything with my classmates. we're so exhausted that no one even mentioned celebrating.”

“maybe that’s a good thing, because that means you'll be all mine tonight,” - she said, kissing your forehead and helping you clean up. after that, you said goodbye to Vi and left the apartment.

two hours later, the university was buzzing with chatter. after a long wait for the results, you were finally gathered in the auditorium and congratulated on completing the semester. the dean's speech was short but meaningful, he announced that he was proud of his students because everyone had passed. you and your classmates exchanged satisfied glances. the results would arrive in a week via email, but the most important thing was that you passed. you were so proud of yourself.

at the entrance of the university, you and your friends were enthusiastically discussing plans for the holidays, but the main thing you all agreed on was that you needed to celebrate. since everyone was tired and overwhelmed from the day, you decided to meet up tomorrow. your conversation was interrupted by your phone ringing - it was Vi calling. your face must have changed because all your friends started laughing, saying, - “ooooh, look who’s in love!”

“shut up,” - you laughed in response.

"hey, Vi," - you said calmly into the phone.

"cupcake, I can't take it anymore, tell me," - she said, sounding anxious on the other end.

"I passed!!!"

"yes! I'm not even surprised, I never expected anything less. I'm so proud of you."

"thanks, Vi, I..." - you stopped yourself. "thank you for your support. I'll be home soon, bye," - you said, hanging up and taking a deep breath.

“trouble in paradise?” - one of your friends asked.

“no, it's just... I don't know how to...” - you started mumbling to yourself while your friends watched you in confusion. “how to tell her that I love her?” - their faces lit up with smiles as they hugged you tightly.

back at home, you started getting ready. Vi showed you the gift she’d picked out, and after approving it, you went to your room to get dressed.

“absolutely not,” - Vi said firmly.

“what? why?" - you asked, surprised.

“last time you wore that dress, it caused us some problems, I’d like to remind you,” - Vi said, glancing at the dress and clearly recalling what happened between the two of you last time.

“I’d say it worked to our advantage. just look where we are now,” - you laughed.

Vi rolled her eyes. “okay, sorry, I have no right to tell you what to wear. honestly, I’m just a little nervous.”

“nervous?” - you asked, not understanding what she meant.

“yeah, it’s silly, but... you're stunning, and I know that in that outfit, everyone’s going to be looking at you,” - she said, lowering her eyes.

you walked over to Vi and hugged her. “you don’t need to worry about that, I only need you,” - you said.

she hugged you tighter. “sorry.”

you just smiled. “thank you for sharing that with me.” you kissed Vi on the lips.

“just promise no more jokes about dancing without panties. I can’t handle that again,” - you laughed, covering your face with your hands as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I promise, from now on, only you get to take them off,” - you said, biting your lip and giving Vi a playful look.

“cupcake, don't do that, we'll be late,” - Vi said as she closed the distance between you, running her hands through your hair.

you sat up on the kitchen counter behind you and spread your legs. “what exactly should I not do?” - you asked teasingly.

Vi looked at you, then moved as close as she could. she ran her hands up your legs to the spot that the dress barely covered. in response, you wrapped your legs around her and leaned back slightly.

“is it just me, or does this dress have a strange effect on you?” - Vi said, slowly taking in the sight of your body. “maybe I should take it off you so you'll behave,” - she teased.

“try me,” - you said playfully, running your fingers over her lips, slightly parting them. Vi licked your finger, causing you to let out a soft moan. she pulled you closer by the waist and almost kissed you but suddenly said, - “I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”

she lowered herself to the level of your underwear, and the sight of her there made you even more excited, every part of your body begging for her touch. she brought your hips closer to her face and gently ran her tongue over your panties.

“Vi...” - you said as you tangled your hand in her hair, but she moved it away and stood back up, smiling at you.

“why did you stop?” - you asked, slightly frustrated.

“I was just checking to see if you had any underwear on. we can go now,” - Vi said, laughing and teasing you.

“I hate you,” - you said, jumping off the counter and heading for the door.

“I think it’s the opposite,” - Vi said, her eyes never leaving you as you walked away.

at the club, you finally met her friends. for some reason, they were just as you had imagined them: all different, yet somehow the same. Vi introduced you to them, and it seemed like she took extra pride in mentioning that you were her girlfriend. each of them gave you a warm smile and introduced themselves in return. finally, you and Vi greeted the birthday person, and everyone handed over their gifts. they were genuinely happy, thanked everyone for coming, and even welcomed you as the newest member of their crew. it felt good to be seen as more than just Vi's plus-one.

a few cocktails later, you were all on the dance floor. the music was great, your girlfriend was by your side, and you felt truly happy. her appearance was irresistibly attractive to you, and you were using all the willpower you had not to drag her to the bathroom with you. Vi probably understood this too, as her light touches on your body and gentle kisses on your neck kept your excitement simmering.

when you both returned to the table, you ordered one last round of cocktails. "good, because I'm already having too much fun," - you thought to yourself.

Vi’s hand rested on your leg under the table, and as the conversation went on, you felt it start to move higher up the inside of your thigh. your legs instinctively began to close, but Vi's hand didn't let that happen. just as her fingers got close to your panties, the birthday person suddenly said, - “thank you all for coming.” Vi quickly withdrew her hand, and you shot her an angry look, to which she barely managed to hold back a laugh and winked at you.

the way home was... tipsy. it seemed like Vi had good self-control, but you were in a good mood and feeling very turned on. this was the second time tonight that Vi had teased you, so you decided that once you got home, you would come up with a way to get back at her.

when you entered the apartment, you bent over in front of her to take off your shoes in a way that was anything but subtle. Vi's gaze fixed on your butt.

“can you help me with the zipper?” - you asked, your tone innocent. at first, Vi didn't even realize you were talking to her, but she slowly unzipped the back of your dress, her eyes trailing down your bare back, stopping when she saw your red lingerie peeking out.

you felt Vi's fingers tracing down your spine. “you think I don't know what you're doing?” - she asked, her voice low. you leaned forward slightly, steadying yourself with a hand on the wall, and she let out a small growl.

“and what about you? those touches under the table?” - you teased, feeling her hands on your hips, pulling you back against her. she lifted your dress, caressing your thighs, her gaze devouring the sight of you in that lingerie.

“I've never seen you in this position before. you never cease to amaze me, cupcake,” - she murmured as she slid her hand between your legs, into your panties. “so wet already, is this all for me?”

you could only moan in response as she began to massage your clit, your back arching more and more in front of her.

“Vi, please, take me,” - you begged, desperation in your voice.

“I thought you liked it when I teased you,” - she said with a smirk.

“I do, but... I can't take it anymore, I need you. please,” - you whispered, your desire almost overwhelming.

in one quick move, Vi turned you around and pinned you against the wall. “I think I've seen this scene before. i guess one hand was on your hip, and the other...”. she lightly wrapped her hand around your neck, and you let out a moan. “good to know you still enjoy this,” - she added with a grin.

“so much,” - you said, tilting your head back as you wrapped one leg around her, which she held tightly, pressing herself even closer to you. “do you think you can finish what you didn't that night?” - you whispered.

Vi's grip on your neck tightened slightly as she caressed your leg. “tell me exactly how you want it, cupcake,” - she said in that low, intoxicating voice.

“you're really going to make me say it out loud?” - you gave her a pleading look.

“yes, I love hearing you talk about what you want,” - Vi replied with a mischievous smile.

“fine, I want you to take me rougher, I want to scream your name, and I want...” - you bit your lip, - “I want to fulfill that promise I made.”

suddenly, Vi's hold on you grew stronger, and she bit down on your neck, making you cry out in pleasure.

“my girl loves it when I use my force, huh?”

releasing her hold slightly, she lifted you by your hips and kissed you passionately as you wrapped your legs around her. Vi carried you to the bedroom and threw you onto the bed. you barely noticed when your dress ended up in the far corner of the room. discarding her own clothes, Vi leaned down to you and said, - “get on your knees, cupcake.”

the moment Vi's words reached your ears, your stomach tightened even more. obediently, you did as she told you. without warning, Vi pulled your panties to the side and sucked on your clit. you moaned so loudly that your head started to spin. you could feel her tongue and lips devouring you hungrily, and you moaned even louder when you felt her tongue slip inside you.

pulling away from you for a moment, she said, - “cupcake, you need to be quieter. we don't want everyone to hear how dirty you are, do we?” - you nodded in response. “good, but if you're too loud, I'll have to do something about it,” - her voice sent shivers through your entire body, making it harder to stay on your knees.

Vi's tongue licked your wetness again, and she quickly thrust two fingers inside you, making you bite down on your hand to stop from screaming.

“that's it, good girl,” - her words were melting your entire being.

Vi's fingers started pumping harder into you. “you like it when I fuck you with my fingers, don’t you?” - you moaned and nodded in response.

“in order to fulfill that promise of yours, I need to get you ready. how does that feel?” - Vi said as she stretched you from the inside with her fingers, making you collapse onto your elbows.

“oh God, yes, I love it, Vi,” - you moaned louder. the obscene sounds coming from between your legs were shameless, but you loved how she made you lose control. her fingers began to move faster again, and you cried out.

“yes, Vi, please, I'm ready,” - you begged for more.

“you, cupcake, are such a dirty little thing, you know that?” - she withdrew her fingers and gave you another lick, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

behind you, you heard Vi open a box and take out her strap-on. as she put it on, she came up and pressed the tip against your entrance. your hips bucked in response, begging her to fill you.

“I want you to tap twice on the bed if it gets too much, okay, cupcake?”

lost in pleasure, you blurted out something that made Vi growl, - “afraid you won't be able to handle it?”

“that was a very, very bad idea,” - she said, and with those words, she thrust into you. your scream echoed through the room, as the sensation of being stretched and filled overwhelmed you, making your vision go dark from the intensity.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” - Vi said, and suddenly your butt stung from a sharp slap, making you cry out. “there you go again. now I'll have to take measures, won't I?” - you nodded in response.

Vi's hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back up onto your hands, drawing a hoarse moan from your lips. she clamped her hand over your mouth and whispered in your ear, “ready to take the other half?” "THE OTHER HALF?!"

with one swift motion, Vi buried the rest of the strap-on deep inside you, making your ears ring and your eyes fill with tears.

“you said something about me not handling it - what about you?” - Vi's eyes flicked to your hand, checking if you'd tapped out, but you hadn't.

“good girl,” - she praised, squeezing your thigh tighter and starting to drive you onto her strap-on. your mind couldn't keep up with the intensity, you were breathless, but it felt so good. your whole body responded to every thrust, and the wet sounds coming from you were so filthy that you couldn't believe it was happening. after a few strokes, you began to match her rhythm, and Vi's smile grew even wider. her movements became faster and harder, slamming into your body so forcefully that your knees gave out beneath you. if she hadn't been holding you in her firm grip, you'd have collapsed by now. you kept moaning into her hand, clutching the sheets with your fist, but you didn't tap out. you loved it. you wanted more.

after a moment, you felt Vi pull the strap-on out of you and release her hold, causing you to collapse onto the bed, moaning.

“lie on your back. I want to see your pretty face,” - she ordered. you did as she said, spreading your legs like an obedient girl. Vi's smile grew wide at your compliance. “just look at her. tears on her cheeks, barely holding on, but still begging for more.”

Vi lifted your legs and draped them over her shoulders, thrusting back inside you in one smooth motion, making you scream.

“no, no, no. how many times do I have to tell you?” - she dropped your legs and covered you with her body, driving the strap-on even deeper, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. once again, she covered your mouth with her hand and began thrusting into you with force, holding onto the bed for leverage. each thrust felt like a wave of intense bliss, tears streaming down your face, yet you kept moving your hips, pushing yourself harder onto her. when Vi's pace quickened, you felt the overwhelming sensation that you were about to come. catching your eyes, she understood immediately, and when she pressed her finger against your clit, you started to whimper from the pleasure. your back arched, and stars danced in your vision as your body shook with the force of your orgasm.

slowly, Vi removed her hand from your mouth, still staying inside you. “if only you could see yourself right now, cupcake.” after a few seconds of looking into your eyes, she pulled out the strap-on, leaving you feeling empty inside. tossing it aside, Vi leaned down to you and gently wiped away the tears from your cheek. you were still catching your breath, your head still buzzing slightly.

you spent a few minutes in her arms, and when you finally managed to speak, you whispered, - “I've never felt this kind of pleasure with anyone but you.” Vi kissed you tenderly, - “the feeling is mutual, cupcake.”

[bloodcasket]

“ EASY, BABY ”⋆ ﾟ☾

PAIRING: DI!Jill Valentine x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Pure NSFW (descriptive smut), Age gap centered!! (Death Island! Jill), Female described reader, Dom!Jill, Sub!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, reader described as more inexperienced than Jill (nothing too specified), innocence kink, fingering, finger sucking, tribbing, panty play, dirty talk, jill just loves to praise, teasing on Jill’s behalf, a lil bit of manhandling. LIGHTLY PROOF-READ!

WORD COUNT: 7.4K+

DESCRIPTION: The whole department and crew is out for celebration at a restaurant. As Jill sits amongst the table, she spots the new girl, young and timid, giving shy glimpses from across the table.

AUTHORS NOTE: SUPERR rusty after lack of writing for a couple of months now, really hoping this satisfies because Jilly bean doesn’t get enough fics written about her. Let me know if there’s any mistakes, please and thank you! (I’m so normal for her, i promise). Took me too long to finish, and i got lazy toward the end.

The last thing you wanted was to deal with any of the men sitting around you, feeling forced to pry out fake enjoyment and formulate fraudulent smiles at any of their cheesy comments.

They were all grown and lax, after all, middle-aged and experienced, their worries about leaving bad impressions left long ago after years of regulating bioterrorism. They just simply didnt care, and tonight was meant to be jubilant, after all. It was a way to congratulate the team for arriving back home in one piece. Clank glasses of iced bourbon and smile after the weeks of prolonged misery and uncertainty.

It had only been a few minutes that you sat, waiting at this table, the celebratory event making you feel like the black sheep.

A timid, young stranger, her shoulders hunched in discontent, and her expression nonchalant as she sat alongside the chairs of older individuals, ones who laughed and cheered, shook hands and grinned with their cheeks shaded crimson, wrinkles creasing around the shape of their eyes.

It was people who worked drastically to make the trip to Alcatraz bearable, and handled more experience within this field. Something you felt you lacked. Something you saw yourself unequal to, off putting. In other words, even undeserving.

Employment under “The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance” was nearing a few months now for you, but your line of work strayed far from any defensive units, due to your familiarity with the information management department. You organized required files and handled technological tasks under supervisors order, you weren’t genuinely handling firearms and terminating undead like the others were within the BSAA. You were simple, and did your part, participation with higher-ups was foreign.

The invitation to come here was optional, of course, but your ripe desire to see a certain woman was hard to swallow. After several days of trying to deny yourself this opportunity, the denial became fruitless, and you finally succumbed; which leads you to sitting at this lengthy dining room table, shuffling in discomfort and trying best to bite back any resurfacing regret.

It’s a restaurant, aromas conjoining in the air, certain scents collecting that it perplexes you. The whisks of alcohol burn through your nostril hairs—your lip twitches in discontent, jaw soon slacking as fragrances of broth and caramelized delicacies fog around you. You scrunch your face and twist your cute nose, huffing in the perfumes of delight.

It was all so overwhelming, and yet you had barely done anything yet sit and spend a few minutes skimming the menu—fiddling with your hands on the table when you yearned for a distraction. And yet; another server hurries past your seat, wide platters in hand, a trail of aromatics left in his wake. Drool draws upon your impatient tongue, you wondered how much longer it would take.

“Jill, didn’t think you’d make it”, a male voice chimes, you're able to single it out amongst the banter of the public place, trying best to listen as other residents at the table mumble out tipsy-tainted sentences, snortling and getting themselves comfortable as they slosh down fancy cocktails.

The timid position in which you kept yourself in the moment you sat down at this table seems to have been disoriented, a stiffness residing down the arch of your neck as you lift your head and adjust your eyes to your surroundings.

Dimly lit, and silken curtains are drawn over windows for the evening, you blink a few times to observe across the table, eyes stretching past messy cutlery, and halfway bubbling glasses. You blink again, throat moving slowly as you swallow dryly.

Under tinted yellow light, she sits. She’s shaking her head, exaggerating a huff of exhaustion as she edges her seat closer to the table. Brunette hair is silken and syrupy brown, a few strands askew from where she let the hair descend down her face and tickle the middle of her neck, the vision filling you with exhilaration.

‘Jill Valentine’, you suddenly think, watching as she’s easing herself more comfortably into the seat, shaded heels of her boots sliding forward as she pushes her legs apart, elbows jutting against the hickory surface that you oh-so-admired for several minutes straight. She’s hunched over improperly, wrapped up in a gray woolen cardigan, not caring much for table manners. A heat brewed low in the pit of your stomach.

“Had to finish my report, it was a pain in the ass”, her adjacent partner seems to love this reaction—being that he chuckles shortly afterward, “would prefer if you took it off my shoulders next time”.

“Your responsibility”, he replies nonchalantly, Chris Redfield from what you remember, a known operator within the BSAA. He was respected largely by his peers, a man with his time spent sacrificing and protecting, all for the benefit of “greater good”. You couldn’t say much about him, you couldn’t say much about anyone to be quite frank, except for one person. His partner in crime.

Needless to say, you scrounged through your closet for hours one night to pull out piles of clothes in desperate search to find something presentable for this woman. Bouncing your eyes back and forth over different varieties of garments, torturing yourself over the delusional manifestation that you’ll attract Jill Valentine tonight.

Intimidating. Most would plaster that description over her if it was all for first impressions. A 41 year old military woman who can carry her guns just as wonderfully as she can carry her foul language. She’s blunt, and by no means patient due to certain circumstances, but with the small moments she’s managed to pass alongside you, the tiny things don’t go unnoticed.

Coincidentally, you bump into her in the lobby; she’d chuckle jovially, waving one hand toward you dismissively as you ramble out apologetic gibberish. Reassuringly telling you “it’s not a problem, don’t worry about it”.

You’re heading toward a file room? She’ll catch you in the halls, velvet lips upturned into a gentle grin as she greets you with your name slipping off her tongue, blue eyes narrowed down at you in an observant manner. She remembers the little details, remembers you.

To say it was innocent appreciation was incorrect. It was an attraction, and the more your female superior managed to cross paths with you, the more you felt the warmth in your stomach churn and twist. It embarrassed you, to say the least. Jill Valentine was probably an individual with her priorities straight, and here you were, grinding your thighs together as you squirm uncomfortably in your seat, front teeth gnawing on the swell flesh of your bottom lip. You looked ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Ogling an older woman as if she were some high school crush. Where were your priorities?

Heaps of chestnut hair suddenly color your vision, blocking your delicate view as a head leans forward to inch closer to the woman you admire, “Here Jill, saved your drink until you got here”, her voice is flowery and feminine, a tinge of nasal sweetness at the end of her chirping sentences. “Glad to see you”. You almost envy her in this moment.

“Thanks, Claire”, a pale palm wraps around the transparent glass, pearls of condensation glistening on Jill’s lengthy fingertips, her nails clumsily trimmed, and beaten hands calloused from her work. You feel your breath hitch at the sight, cotton mouthed as you watch.

Tonight was going to be long. Too long, if this was all you were going to think about.

Claire retreats to her original position in the chair, her conversation with the brunette ephemeral as she focuses her attention on another, leaving Jill solemn in her thoughts, curtly nodding to every general word Chris might possibly say. She’s taciturn, and trained on the voice of her adjacent companion.

Without the veil of ember strands shrouding over the woman’s face, you melted in your seat, lethargic and ditzy as you bored your beady eyes into the vision that was just blissfully her.

One sip, then another. Her lips curl around the lip of the glass, swallowing measured amounts of golden whiskey that smell like smoke and peaty.

“We should all get together and go on vacation after all this, think we deserve that much”, Chris suggests this as he wedges his fork into the collops of filet spread along his plate, in which the other hums, her eyes flickering from the pit of her glass and then forward, peering across the table.

Rings of cerulean catch your nosiness, and you feel the organ within your rib cage falter, and then within seconds accelerate, heart racing like a jack rabbit inside your chest. She caught you staring.

She keeps the contact for a few seconds; you’re the one who widens your eyes and cowers into yourself, suddenly pretending that the entree platter of pillowy bread rolls is of much more interest.

You think you’ve gone crazy, due to the slanted, open mouthed smirk she summons on her face, mumbling a few words in reply to the male beside her (which you don’t catch due to how much blood is rushing to your face, head swarmed with internal comments of how utterly humiliated you feel). Nevertheless, the intrigue she displays is clearly prevalent, more so in the way your young face ducked to hide yourself other than the subtle conversation Chris clearly tried to create.

Just as you had foreseen, the night was indeed long and mundane, and your quick glances at the nonchalant beauty sitting opposite of you was practically dangerous, due to how cautious she seemed of her surroundings and every object that crossed her. A habit she carried in her occupation, you supposed. She was by no means incognizant. (It would be a lie if you didn’t at least give one glimpse, though. Maybe two…maybe three).

You can’t recall if it had been an hour or more, but the facade of enjoyment seemed to lose its potency, and perhaps for others as well.

Little by little, the crew took their leave, furred winter coats slung over the slope of their shoulders as they waved and headed out for the night, giving you some trivial excuse to join alongside them. With the bill paid generously in reward for everyone, the crowd migrated out through the exit doors and into the parking lot, the wisps of frosty air breezing past in copious amounts.

You trembled, nails dipped into the lower fabric of your mini dress, trying best to ease it further down your thighs as you cursed yourself for wearing such attire.

‘All that work just to stare at her like a fucking idiot’, and now here you were, with gritted teeth and trembling flesh as you shuffled down the sidewalk in shame, purse hung over your shoulder whilst you made your way home. That is, until the crackling of gravel wound up behind you, tires rolling over cement and bright beams flashing over you as if you were a deer in the headlights. An unfamiliar car slowly approaches beside you, and you stumble in your heels as you halt.

“You waitin’ on someone or something?”, the subdued hum of the engine had synthesized with the husky chuckle that was rightfully Jill’s, “don’t tell me you were actually gonna walk home in that? No jacket?”

An arm is laid firm across the surface of her car door, her head peering out through the window as she leans forward, her expression is practically incredulous. As if she was disappointed in your choice-making, and your lack of self-awareness for the weather and time of night. She thrums her fingers across the door impatiently, other hand gripping her steering wheel as she expects an answer.

“I was just-“, and here’s the flaring heat of humiliation rising once more. Your lips are molded into a solemn line, her glare of ridicule made you feel guilty for not asking for her aid in the first place. “I’m not too far from here- I wouldn’t want to be a bother”. You’re lying through your teeth, and the brunette scoffs as if she already knows.

“Fucking hell, you were actually going to do it? You’re too young to be doing stuff like that”, she jests in a low manner, muttering more so to herself than to you. Her arm slithers back inside the vehicle, head motioning to the empty passenger seat with a quick nod. “Like hell I’m letting you walk home, it’s not safe. I’ll give you a ride. Get in”.

The authority of her tone makes your knees wobbly, and the way she sits back in her seat with her neck craned against the headrest commands urgency. She’s waiting. You feel a lump harden in your throat. She’s waiting for you.

You hasten your little steps, sheepishly opening the car door and sliding inside, whispering with pruned lips how thankful you are for the ride. You’re stiff in the seat next to her, hands folded in the center of your lap; they were numbed from the cold, goosebumps embroidered along your delicate flesh.

“Don’t mention it”, she brushes off the innocent gratitude with a witty shake of her head, vehicle rolling through the asphalt, leaving the parking lot with just a planate flick of the wrist, elongated fingers dipping into the rubberized padding of the steering wheel. You watch from your peripheral, nostrils flaring as you shakily inhale, splashes of soap and freshly cleaned laundry breeze over you, and you relish in it, stomach all filled with butterflies over something as simple as the older woman’s scent.

“Where to, then?”, she inquires with a throaty hum, vision focused on the road ahead of her. She sighs in frustration when you tell her, though she grins in utter amusement, laughing when you deluge her with stuttering apologies over a mere lie.

“Christ. Thought you said you were close?”. She makes a turn, dirt crackling under the wheels as she pulls onto another street.

“I know, I’m sorry”, you mumble in shame, hands folding tighter and tighter until your knuckles jut against your skin, your face all flushed. Lower lining of the dress you wore was hiked up your thighs, you felt so exposed and scrutinized alongside her, in her car.

“It’s alright, don’t take me too seriously. New girl, right? I remember. Explains why you’re always so quiet”, Jill continues with the conversation, glimpsing over just for a second to study you before she’s focused again. “You enjoy the place? They had some nice drinks, don’t you think? It wasn’t all too bad”, you frown at her words, a heaviness nested in your chest. You hadn’t really done much tonight at the celebration. Nothing other than ogle at her, eat some bread rolls, and then ogle at her some more.

“I didn’t drink anything really, unfortunately”, admitting this was rather awkward, due to how much desire you held to impress her. Now you just felt inadequate, lackluster. “Too many people I didn’t know, if that makes any sense. I must sound boring, don’t I?”.

“Not even one drink?”, she questions, lips curved up into an open-mouthed grimace as she flutters her eyelashes in teasing surprise. “Free to get whatever you want, and you’re telling me you were too shy to even drink anything?”, and she sneers when you nod, biting down laughter in hopes she could keep you comfortable in her presence. Smile lines deepen around the shape of her mouth, silky lips blessed with a tint of coral, apples of her cheeks glowing with every beguilement grin.

“It doesn’t hurt to celebrate, you know. You work hard, I’ve noticed”, she pauses, considering her next words carefully, not wanting to tread any risky lines, “I’m not that far from my apartment anyway, want to have a drink or two? Think I’ve got some lying around, wouldn’t hurt to get em’ used up”.

Green light hanging up ahead switches rapidly from yellow to red, crimson hue painted over the dashboard and along the height of your body. You’ve sunken a little in the passenger seat, all wide-eyed and panicked when she offers. You open your mouth to answer, but she cuts you off before you could turn the opportunity down.

“Just the two of us, okay? I don’t bite, I promise”, and you swear you’re melting, too convinced. You nod in response, a simple “sure” is all you can hiccup.

‘Maybe all that time ripping apart my wardrobe was worth it?’

Maybe so, because Jill fucking Valentine is moving her lengthy index finger to the left of her steering wheel, flicking on her turn signal without a single ounce of hesitation, and then making a u-turn that can only promise one thing.

The ride to her apartment.

Agreeing was most definitely easier than doing, that was for certain. With the door opening, and her leading the way inside, not only then does it really solidify into reality. One of your leading superiors—a trained operations agent—has driven you back to her apartment to “share drinks” and “celebrate without all the other chatter”. At least that’s what she bargained for in the car.

You’ve politely found purchase on the faux leather cushion of her couch, material beige and smoothened, and you curl into it as you keenly gape around the place.

The condo is fresh, and crisp, organized and minimalistic, but still with a trace that’s so understandably miss valentine.

After hearing about rumors of Jill’s horror in raccoon city, you can almost bet she’s much more at ease now, with her new place, and her new position. Eager to distance from her solemn past.

She’s a workaholic, that’s for sure, multiple rooms in her living space and she’s dedicated one for her research; the door slightly agape, and you can’t help but satiate your curiosity as you squint your eyes and look past the doorknob.

With what little you can see through the crevice, there’s a desk inside with files strewn along the top, corkboard furnished along the wall and vital information pinned to it with colored thumbtacks. Not able to help yourself, a tender smile cracks on your lips as you notice irrelevant stickers plastered along the granulated cork, designs of cats and succulents the older woman has happily put everywhere. Your heart pangs at the innocent gesture, imagining such a stern individual indulging herself with such small and adorable items.

“Do you have a preference? Want anything in particular?”, said woman calls from the kitchen, face astern and a hand pushing the fridge door open. Hastily, you retreat your beady eyes, suddenly feeling impertinent for your sense of wonder. She lists off what she has, but it’s all foreign to you, not making much sense from your lack of alcohol expertise.

“I’m not sure”, you shrug sheepishly, a bashful grin displayed, “anything is fine, really”. ‘Anything that you pick, I’ll drink’, sounds more correct, but you digress.

She reads you like you’re an open book, your naivety and youth all too transparent and sat right on her couch, eyebrows furrowed and hands respectfully folded in your lap. A position she’s noticed you in ever since you were rigid and unsettled in her vehicle. When were you ever going to relax? It filled her with incomprehensible mirth, the way you were.

“You’re quite young, aren’t you?”, Jill teases a little, poking at the spots that make you internally weak as she flashes a knowing smirk, “don’t drink a lot I take it? That’s alright”.

She retrieves two glasses from her cupboard and fills them with her pick as you so kindly advocated, closing the fridge and then sauntering over. She takes her place beside you, the leather sinking from the weight of two, her thigh resting along the couch and the shape of her kneecap brushing against you.

“All yours. Bottoms up”, a throaty chuckle resounds in her throat as she offers the drink, ushering for you to take it into your small hands, in which you oblige with unreadable panic. “Cheers”, she clinks her glass with yours, before she’s reclining into the cushion and swallowing, throat muscles contracting up and down.

You only manage to gulp down a small portion of the beverage, soured reaction shriveling your lips. It wasn’t the most enjoyable, but it was Jill’s, and you found it as well sought after as any nobel prize. This drink, this couch, this moment. This moment with her, even if every lick of the bitter whiskey was deathly, you would still sacrifice every lumpy taste bud just for a second with the woman.

Slowly, she sets the drink down on the coffee table, and you watch her movements carefully. Those hands of hers guide the cardigan off her shoulder blades, shrugging the gray fabric down and onto an armrest with a composed exhale.

What torture it is, your foolish reverence for her. Dirty incalescence ferments between the swell of your thighs, burning and burning once you catch sight of the dip between her chest, cleavage freckled with age and brown moles dotted along her sharpened collarbone. Her tight little blue tank top hiding underneath that damned cardigan this whole time. The fabric is stressed across the seaming of her bust, creased and curled until it dips down and hugs around the frame of her waist. There’s no fucking way you’ll be able to make it through tonight without slipping up.

“You’re brave for working under the organization, no matter what you do. Reminds me of when I first started training, I was around your age too. It’s risky, but I’m sure you already know that”, she bends downward to unlace her coal-shaded boots, tugging the zipper down without an ounce of patience in her.

“You gettin’ along with everybody? How is everything, with the new position and all? I mean, the way you were acting earlier, it makes me worried. If anyone’s screwing with you-”.

“No no no, it’s not like that, I promise”, you cut her off, shaking your head quickly in hopes you could help her understand your viewpoint, in which she glances at you and sits upright. She got you to talk, and if she wasn’t absolutely smug about it.

“Everything is fine, and the department is kind to me. You’ve been very generous too, and I’m thankful. I’m just…still trying to get used to everything”, she bobs her head with acumen, digesting every syllable and stumble of your words, listening maturely. She finds flattery in your compliment toward her, doing best not to grin.

“How is it with, um…you and Chris?”, you ask, and the moment the question slips past your lips, you’re filled with utter regret. What kind of question was that? Valentine raises her eyebrow in bewilderment, shocked by the sudden change in subject. She draws her arm along the head of the couch, manspreading whilst she sits as she pleases, eyes still narrowed with pique and pointed in your general direction.

“Me and Chris?”, the laughter she bellows out is vocal, giggling deeply without much restraint, “we’re partners, is all. We’ve been in this field for a while now.”

The way she carries herself around you is as if she’s known you for years, like this is just some humorous conversation that fills her with interest. She wasn’t this excited to speak at the restaurant, you’ve noted, and it’s heartwarming. You, of all people, have made her soft.

Despite all the liquor she’s consumed tonight, she is still impressively sober, quick to catch on to all your soft spoken words, and averting eyes. Although, her high tolerance, of all things, is not a particular trait of hers that surprises you. It only aids the turmoil that rumbles in your chest; it makes you feel weighed down and heavy, the scent of luxurious usquebaugh lingering on her tongue after every breath she releases.

“I see”, you mumble, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Jill rolls her blue eyes, “you’re always apologizing, you have nothing to be sorry about”, the room falls silent, clock that’s hung on her wall ticking as seconds prolong into minutes. That is, until she speaks again.

“What about you? Got a boyfriend? Lay it on me”, and the room feels like it’s suddenly enclosing, the words strangely suffocating, and you refuse to admit your sheer infatuation you bore for her. You shake your head with silence, finding that your speechlessness was a better reply rather than your jumbled words of anxious gibberish. One slip up, and you knew it would be over.

Your fingers tease the constricting dress again, eyes exerting to the way your thighs expand and lay flat on her sofa. The way the material fits you like a glove was sweltering, especially with her obsidian pupils beating down on you, drinking up your every tentative counter.

“So that’s a no”, she snorts at your lack of volume, feeling filled with confidence. “You stare a lot, you know that? I noticed you looking at me all night. I don’t scare you, do I?.”

You shoot your attention toward her now, irises apprehensively rounded and wide, and you feel the world absolutely crumble as you're struck with distress over her admittance. She did notice, after all. How pathetic you must have looked the whole time, peering from the fucking entree platter to her every couple of minutes, so visibly envious whenever anyone uttered a single word to her.

“No, I”-

Your pale lips tremble as they open, an absinthal taste wrought over your tongue and depleting any moisture from your mouth. You try to answer, meek and destroyed from your own clumsy dilemma. How different this could have been, if only you weren’t so gullible when it came to your yearning, now leading yourself into chagrin as you couldn’t keep your eyes away earlier.

“I’m sorry”, you pipe out, “I didn’t mean to”-, and she’s engulfing you, brain all smothered into mush and your body liquidizing to putty under the embrace she ensnares you in. Countless nights you’ve spent imagining how every curve of her lips feels pressed along yours, how they move, how they taste, but absolutely nothing can put into words how beautiful they feel as they swallow up your squeaks of dismay.

She’s crawling forward until she’s got you all laid out underneath her, squirming in your position as you submit to the palm she lays on your chest, a firm push she gives until you’ve gone flat amongst the leather cushion. With her legs now entangled with yours, she’s content, humming into the kiss she’s so rightfully initiated, sharp nose dipping into the velvet skin of your face, and skimming along your cheek with every tilt of her head.

Challenged by inexperience, you try best to keep up with the opening and closing of her mouth she’s laying upon you, her eyes sealed as her lips seemingly can’t control themselves, a hunger you’ve never expected from Jill. Flavors of malt she's got melting from her tongue, intoxicated saliva that’s mixed with yours and creating a slippery concoction between your lips with every thirsting lick she provokes.

“Need some attention? Am I right?”, the brunette separates from the bliss she had solicited, lips detaching with a wet smack so she can inhale sharply. “I’m much older than you, much”-, she huffs, airily snickering at the sight behold just right beneath her, “much fucking older.” She drags the wriggling muscle out from between her teeth and over her lips, collecting the moisture and spit you had so generously lathered over her. To die like this, it would be divine.

You lay dormant and vulnerable to her control, but she had warned you. Her words were not to be taken lightly, but rather, considered. To give up your innocence for such a filthy, wretched moment like this, Jill knew better. But those eyes of yours had begged, pleaded, were filled with desperation. Whatever she had done, or would do, you wouldn’t lament over it—but rather—savor it.

“I know”, you speak up, balancing the shakiness that wracks you. You’ve wanted a moment like this with her, and you refused to let it slip away from the cracks of your fingers when she was so, so close to granting you everything you’ve wished. “I know you are.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Explains all the staring, that goddamn dress during winter for Christ’s sake, all on purpose, I take it, tryna get my attention”, the silver pendant of her necklace dangles above you, circling as if it’s meant to entrance you. “The hell am I going to do with you?.”

The authority that oozes off her foul tongue is like morphine, an opiate you’ve swallowed, it’s addictive and ruins your common sense completely. Innocent eyes flicker back and forth, your jaw now slack as you can’t focus between the heat swirling in her pupils, or the way her lips taunt you for another taste.

The delicate curve of her nose, like a deity the way she so naturally is, sculpted from the stars as you examine the dorsal bump that sits near the bridge between her eyes, and then arches down to her cupid's bow. You want to pepper kisses all over her, take a risk into her world, trace the fine lines that are embedded into her pale complexion. God, you wanted it, no matter how foolish you would become.

Not able to withstand another teasing comment, you bring your lips to hers with vehemence, your shaky hands drawn over the stretch of her back, nails bundling up fistfuls of blue cotton fervently and with lack of restraint.

“Easy, baby”, the older woman rasps out a discordant laugh as she eases apart from you, “I got it, sweetheart. Let’s take our time, no need to rush anything.”

But the way your fingers are threading up her spine, carding through the syrupy strands of her hair and burying the pads of your fingers into her darkened roots tell her everything. “Please”, you whisper, a whine of desire prolonging from your throat, “take me to bed.”

And who is she to deny such a request? Fallen at your feet from square one.

With groping hands and ragged breaths, Jill has led you to her room and shoved her calloused hands onto the square of your chest, watching you stumble your way backward until your knees wobble, feet losing balance and you surrender your footing. Now draped along her mattress, you’re sprawled amidst her disheveled sheets, unintentionally alluring at the edge of her bed. A present that needed to be unwrapped and reveled in. Undressed and ravaged.

Undoubtedly, the attraction was mutual. Too reticent to meet her eye, fledgling and modest you were, a stark contrast to the indecent and repugnant men that stuck around and partnered alongside Jill in multiple missions. She was abnormally engrossed in you, freshly employed, seeing a sliver of compassion in every beam you presented, how much you were blossoming compared to the others who groaned and wailed.

Of course, your age had been worrisome, and Jill felt guilt course within her at such salacious contemplations. But to have you laid out in this moment, so youthful, so precious, she knew it was alright. She was going to take such good care of you, that was certain, cherish you like no other. And from the way you propped your weight up onto your elbows to wait for her, in her bed—she knew you had waited a while for this too. The glimmering twinkle in your glossy eyes, an unspoken plea from the depths of your soul.

Jill pried your heels off your feet and threw the irrelevant shoes to the floor, long fingertips prodding along the protruding talus bone and further down to the curve of your calf, pulling your leg upward so she could chastely peck along the skin. Give you softness before she fucked you clueless, solicited vulnerable cries from that sweet mouth.

“God, you’re so perfect, sweet thing. Need you to be good and spread your legs for me”, she mumbles amongst unarticulated nibbles to your calf, two strong hands guiding your limbs apart with your permission. You comply, breath hitched in your throat, craning your neck back once she lowers a palm between your two thighs, index and middle finger circling into your sticky panties, meddling with the sodden gusset.

She grunts, your wet cunt fueling her ego. She knew it was worth examining how ruined you already were, but this quick? How precious.

“Fucking hell, you’re needy”, you flush viciously at her jesting observation, squirming so sensitively at the swirls and caresses of sensual friction, every plunge of her trimmed nails into the flimsy fabric were torturous. Panties are humid and tainted from your own very need, and you feel your body is just an ocean of desire, body overflowing with lecherous want.

You wantonly gripe and huff, dress now creased and hiked up to your navel as Jill holds you still and anchored, one hand clamped around your knee securely as the other is buried between your thighs, toying with you. Coaxing those gentle gasps out of you that make her heart swell, fill her with greedy pride.

“Just a couple of kisses, and your panties are already ruined”, she curls a finger into the band and drags the elastic up, the soiled undergarment loose and freed from your glistening labia, before Jill releases, the material slapping back down within mere seconds. Jolting and whimpering, you’re appalled from the igniting slap amongst your sensitive warmth, hips jittering and Jill flashes you a playful smile.

“Half my goddamn age and gettin’ all wet”, she tugs the panties up now, watching the cotton sink into the slick of your pussy, lips curled around the laced seam and cutely puffed out, glistening with your own pronounced arousal. “Pretty girl”, she muses, dark eyebrows creased and wrinkles of concentration forming along her forehead as she gawks at you coming apart, beseeching for mercy with little squeaks and airy sighs. She wonders when you’ll demand pleasure, but such a sweetheart you are, letting Jill have her way with you.

She’s too impatient for this little game, having enough of prolonging your reward of indescribable pleasure and ecstasy. She pushes the damp gusset to the side, a bridge of transparent slick breaking apart from the undergarment once she bares your cunt to her hungry eyes, lengthy fingers spreading your velvety lips apart, her mouth formulating into an impressed “o” at the vision.

“Jill”-, you pipe up with uncertainty, but she hushes you, another kiss she smothers to your calf. “I know”, she hums, “I know”. You feel all warm inside, sickened with endearment by the way she looks at you, clenching around thin air as you imagine how well she’ll fill you. You’re all hers tonight, she knows this.

A veil of brown tresses conceal half her face as she lowers her head to a calculated angle, sharp collarbone and shoulder blades pronounced once she bends closer to your clit. She collects tepid drool off the tip of her pink tongue, and hurls it down onto your turgescent pearl, watching her bubbling saliva sully your pretty little pussy and drip down to your pulsating hole, entrance begging to be split open as you clench once…then twice, and a third time. You shiver at the contrast of temperature, cool slick now warmed by the draw of her thermal spittle, and you attempt to keep your head up to watch with half-lidded eyes, desperate to see the woman you loved.

Despite her foul-mouthed tendency, and inclination for dirty talk, she was slow, and tender. Her hands were rough, marred from training and littered with blemishes and scarring. Though, she was so considerate the way she plopped her thumb along the swell of your clit, textured fingertips rubbing upward against the flesh, flicking the small, and hardened bud with precision that had you moaning brokenly into her pillows. Your nostrils flare, inhaling her musk that’s adorned the sheets, the scent enveloping you, in which you only moan louder.

“Yeah, feeling good, aren’t you. Like my fingers?”

“Mhm!”, you had no words to speak, clasping onto the bedding as she steadily draws circles of pleasure over your enlarging bud. She tests the waters, pointer finger nudging at your dripping entrance, and when you make no sound of denial, she buries herself inside, curling one finger into your cunt. She laughs flippantly as your body instinctively swallows her in, fleshy walls tightening and frenzied, clenching sporadically around her, and she adds another finger slowly, trying best to be careful with you; her precious girl.

“Jill- oh my god”, the sudden stretch of her fingers is surreal, sticky taint gushing from your weeping hole and defiling the pale, boney fingers that split you apart so remarkably, obscene sonorities that climb up the walls and ring into your ears. You were already soaked earlier after the push of her tongue along your teeth, a saturated flower between your shaking legs, luminous and gleaming after a rainfall of dominance the older woman harbored.

But the way she bullies her knuckles inside you, her spit sloven hands smearing her slobber all over your vulva—you've been undeniably ruined, sopping mess that’s smeared to the flesh of your inner thighs and down to the shape of your rear, and you sob.

“Can’t- can’t do it”, your body says otherwise, pleading for more, blood rich and adrenaline coursing through bluish veins like wildfire. Thrust after thrust, and push after push; transforming your mortal chassis into molten nothingness. You’ve surrendered willingly, fallen victim to a certain euphoria that wounds around you, ensnares you into a blanket of submission.

“You can”, Valentine coaxes, more of a demand than suggestion, inspecting you past her webbed eyelashes, “and you will.” Her two fingers are tight against one another, pummeling toward the spongy muscle inside you with a pump of her wrist, arm flexing as she opens you wide to her advantage, folds spread apart to her liking, flapping limply atop the tarnished knuckles that gets forced into your noisy pussy. You’re writhing desperately, an arm flailing down the arch of your stomach to catch her, and you’re teary eyed; two crystals gleaming and threatening fat tears.

You’ve begun to blubber riddles of nonsense, incoherent gasps that can only direct Jill toward one conclusion, and once your hips grind upward to meet the dry surface of her palm, she’s sucking her teeth. You’re close, she smirks in understanding.

“Hm!”, you shake your head, and what else can you say? Disheveled and torn away, once innocent and pure, now fragmented into a vision of a filth from the way you moan symphonies. Dress slithered up just below the cave of your ribs, and a trembling hand clamping down on the wrist that’s trapped between your lifted thighs, you’re the image of a prostitute.

Nonchalant from your intrusive hand desperate to stop her, Jill swats you away and flashes you an expression that reads ‘don’t do that again’, before she’s plunging once more, and your stomach lurches, hitched breath trapped within your esophagus.

“Listen to yourself”, she tantalizes, sultry remarks hissing from the gaps of her pearly whites, and you whimper delicately as you begin to lose yourself in the bliss. It’s only in that moment of fragility that you recognize what she finds so amusing, the squelching of your cunt, juices lewd and sloppy as they flow, and you’re clenching around the older woman’s joints within. Further and further, until the rope breaks, and you’re crumbling into oblivion, battered fingers ushering you into an orgasm of pristine heaven.

Her thumb lulls you from your sequencing spasms, rubbing your used little clit in tender circles as she marvels over such magnificence with blown pupils, still standing at the edge of the bed whilst she listens to the howls of elation that tumble from your cute lips. She’s got to stop herself from hounding you right now, control the erotic sparks that are boiling underneath the constriction of her pants. She did this, and if she didn’t feel so full of herself because of it. Thoroughly smitten with you.

“There you go”, she hushes you with rasping care, observing with worry as your soft hips remain twitching, “you okay?.”

She abandons the mess she made the moment she joins alongside you, crawling to fill the cold space amongst the bed, suckling marks of woo under the slant of your jaw once she’s beside you. Slender, protective arms are snared around your heaving figure, and you’re humming to reassure her, reaching to grasp onto the meat of her biceps for a sense of imploring comfort.

“You did good”, a husky murmur that rumbles from her, reverberates through you as she douses nurturing pecks along the crown of your swarming head, your brain filled with static and fuzz from such an experience. She thinks you’re finished for the night, wasted and frayed—the humble woman she was—figuring she’ll get you cleaned up and call it a night.

The conclusion is omitted, fortunately, from the moment your mouth falls agape, needy muscle thrashing inside and your libido pulsates. You lever her hand that was once caressing your waist, and bring it upon the seat of your bottom lip, peering past your nose at the wrinkled fingertips; pruned and soiled from the liquid you've drenched them in. Your release, glued and preserved amidst the pores of the brunette's skin.

A low sigh of approval erupts from Jill’s chest as you clean the cracks and crevices you’ve dirtied, your beady eyes now sealed tightly as you slurp on the digits hungrily.

“Can’t baby”, she drawls, cunt throbbing and irritated as it stays purchased amongst the seaming of her ripped jeans. “Might be too much for tonight.”

As if you’re adamant on her docility and compliance, you swirl your tongue over her nail beds, the addictive brewery of your cum, globs of spit, and her flesh had all become dewy and sloshed down the walls of your throat. You moan, bobbing your head until you sputter around her, and the two digits sit upon their tongue-like throne beside the swell of your tonsils, leaving you gagging stupidly by the sensations.

Fucks sake, she wants to pummel that honeyed mound into the sheets until you’re ripping her off, tear streaks racing down your cheekbones. You fucking asked for it? You’re gonna get it.

“Want you to feel good”, you gargle, batting your eyelashes, “please?”

Denial dawns heavily upon her for the second time tonight, the fear of mauling your body—her temple of worship—weighing heavy on her racing heart. But the stench of sex disarms her restraint, the prodding canines and writhing tongue deepthroating her fingers merely convincing her. “Wanna feel you”, you whimper, “wanna”- and there’s no more words that need to be said.

Constricting fabric and other layers of clothes are shredded apart within a matter of seconds, now askew and in disorganized piles amongst the older woman’s bedroom floor. She couldn’t care less, peeling off everything she, or you possibly owned, a chest of ample breasts swinging and soft, chocolate moles dotted from her collarbone to the curve of her rising tits. You feel them perk against your own, nipples coupled and stimulating one another. Her robust figure straddles your hips, strengthened thighs not allowing an escape as she wrestles her lips against yours, groaning in low carnality.

The night is crude, bawdy, and daring. Jill Valentine’s apartment molding into a pornographic masterpiece, with licentious kisses exchanged with swollen lips, and entwined legs that brush against one another. She’s slotted herself so perfectly against your cunt, raising her hips so she can grind her clit against yours, and it’s everything she’s wanted. Everything you've wanted. Hymns of pleasure conjoin, and she’s clamping your thighs as she meets you in the center, a sultry look through her hooded eyes. With nails digging crescents into your skin, she huffs out a hissing moan, string of curse words descending before she can communicate properly.

“So close babe, so fucking close”, Jill’s pelvis pushes upward, folds kissing one another and she connects with you like you’re both two puzzle pieces meant for one another. “Gotta wait for me baby, wait for me, okay?”. She’s already said that many times tonight, stilling her scissoring once she spots even a measly scrunch of enjoyment building up on your youthful features. Egging you on just to shatter any shroud of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck this sweet pussy all night”, she grunts, chuckling in mirth at your whines for release, beads of sweat drawn over her temples. “Be patient with me baby, be patient”. And she’s tugging the ropes again, leg drawn over yours as she rubs against you, over and fucking over again, until you’re a ruptured woman, humbled from your own begging.

[strwberri-milk]

Hi! How are you? i would like to request about Mc remember her past life, and she goes really overwhelmed about it...to the point that when she sees Rafayel, she gave her a kiss. The first one for them. And obviously he melts for the kiss. Smut

the way you just ended the ask with Smut. reminds me of that video where the guy just goes "Belt" also i didnt feel like going the whole smut route - if you want the smut hoestly, id say you can just look at this bc soft smut hcs are the direction i'd take here <3 maybe one day i'll write a full fledged fic but rn i have my hands full w boothill [pensive]

The dreams you had were slowly getting more and more realistic. You didn't quite understand why or how they were starting to come about but you first brushed them off as just that - dreams. You didn't think that there was anything too serious about them until one day you suddenly get the sense that everything you're dreaming about is somehow real.

Rafayel was on a business trip so unfortunately you couldn't even talk to him about this, struggling with these emotions yourself as you try to sift through them. Somehow, your dreams line up with the things he teases you about and you start to wonder if he knows something or if it's some weird after effect of being reincarnated?? You can't figure it out and you don't want to blow up his phone with your ramblings so you keep it to yourself until he comes home.

He shows up at your door, beginning to tell you about how he wasn't even able to go home because he missed you so much, wanting to see you right now when you look at him with tears in your eyes. He's startled to say the least, panicking a little as he asks you why you're crying when you suddenly grab him, kissing him hard.

He melts into your touch, desperate to feel your touch. He's always wanted you, always wanted to be with you but never thought that you felt the same. He just prayed and hoped that one day you would remember, that he'd be lucky enough to be with you. Even if you don't remember he doesn't mind losing himself in you like this right now, closing the door behind him as you lead him to your bedroom.

He takes you passionately, keeping you on your back and doing his best to make you cry from ecstasy. He repeats over and over how much he loves you with each bucking of his hips, kissing you breathless and telling you he's wanted you from the moment he saw you. He showers you with attention, bringing you to the peak over and over again. He's insatiable, desperate for you to feel good because of him and making up for lost time.

You're exhausted and barely coherent by the time he's done but he holds you so close. You can hear the beating of his heart in your ear, memorising the sound as you remember that it was taken from you before. You confess quietly what you've seen, the things you remember. He holds his breath, looing at you desperately as he asks if you really remember. When you confirm he holds you so tightly, telling you to rest for now and then the two of you can discuss what's next at another time.

[bbystark]

toxic!ghost x soft!reader

summary: ghost meets a soft little thing and quickly makes her his and his alone. (based on a request from @catoncrack59!)

a/n: tysm for the request, i'm sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted i did get carried away haha. enjoy!!

mdni mature themes

first sees you when he's freshly home from deployment, stalking the aisles of his local grocery store to fill his empty fridge.

there you are, politely tapping the shoulder of an elderly clerk and asking him where something is. you're in the cutest little sundress, eyes big as you point to an item on your list to show the employee.

he finds himself immediately enthralled. you laugh he gets a glint of your pearly teeth, your canine glinting in the florescent lights, and he's completely done for.

he forgets his quest for frozen tv dinners and finds himself trailing you throughout the grocery store, at one point pretending to be interested in tortilla chips when you glance his way.

you finally stop in the dairy section, quietly browsing the options while you chew on your lip. he briefly wonders what your lips feel like- soft no doubt- and why you needed help finding something so simple.

his question is answered when he's in line at checkout, one person behind you. you make small talk with the cashier, and he learns you just moved here for work, managing a new woman's shelter downtown. what a sweet thing, he thinks, so selfless.

it continues like that for weeks, simon tailing you all around town just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile and calming demeanor. he doesn't know what it is about you, maybe it's how polar opposite the two of you are.

simon thinks you would never be with someone so opposing of what your entire life radiated, but it only fuels the fire he has to claim you.

then he gets deployed. almost goes insane, can't stop thinking about your curves and sickly soft features.

more than once angrily fists his cock in the showers thinking of you beneath him, innocent eyes beckoning him closer.

he almost never feels satisfied after, watching his spend circle the drain feeling mildly disgusted with himself and the fact that you literally weren't even aware of his existence.

finally gets back after months and once again sees you at the grocery store and simply decides that life is too short and you're going to be his one way or the other

decides to grow a pair and ask you where something is, and oh! look at that, sweet little you even guides him to the exact aisle and shelf it's on. he makes up some bullshit about trying to bake and not knowing where to begin, knowing you'll eat the lie up.

ends up getting your number for, you know, baking advice and soon thereafter he's in your little house baking cookies with you

you fall for him almost immediately, big soft man who bakes. simon barely tells you anything about himself, omitting details and changing subjects whenever anything personal comes up. but you don't even notice, too dumb and in the middle of falling in love

simon begins to subtly change after the first two dates

he's already obsessed, and the man hasn't even gotten a kiss on the cheek. but your obvious budding adoration for him just isn't cutting it. no, he wants you to himself.

it's the least he deserves right? a soft, kind, sweet little thing just for fucked up, damaged him. his own personal angel.

He starts with subtle manipulation, getting into your head when you have small tiffs with family and friends and saying they aren't good for you. "you're better off without 'em luv. forget it and come gimmie a hug."

then he's purposefully sabotaging your work, deleting important files and changing things in your calendar so you'll be late or miss things completely. it sends you in a tailspin, and soon you start messing up on your own, completely overwhelmed.

he's always there though, wiping tears off your cheek with calloused thumbs and comforting words.

asks you to move in with him before he even asks you to be his girlfriend, but obviously in this economy you say yes

living in domestic bliss, ignorant bliss, in your case, but bliss nonetheless

then he pushes it a little too far and says he doesn't want you to go to a family dinner back in your home city

you snap at him for the first time ever, and simon would never admit that he chubbed up a little at the sight of your irritated and upset face- it was a sight really, his little princess throwing a tantrum

you tell him that he's being ridiculous, that it's holiday season and you haven't seen your family in forever. simon throws it back in your face with a "aren't I your family luv? gonna leave me all alone here?" and a carefully timed voice crack.

you concur and cancel your flights, and simon apologizes by fucking you so raw you honestly forget what had you so upset when you wake up the next morning.

continues to slowly cut off contact with the outside world. your phone breaks and he replace it with a flip phone like his, saying social media was rotting your brain and this would be good for you. you listen to him, of course.

nearly goes insane when he gets the call that he has to ship out soon. thinks about locking you in the apartment, hiring one of his old buddies to drop groceries off every once in a while.

while tempting, he knows he has to tread lightly with you. he needed to take his time, so he settles with getting you a pretty necklace with a gps tracker in it and wiring his apartment and your car with cameras. crazy? no! he just wants to make sure you're safe and also not interacting with anyone but him and him alone

besides, with his great manipulation guidance, you had basically cut off all your friends and family. the ones who stuck around eventually left (simon threatened them)

so he wasn't worried. however, he does grow worried when he's lonely one night on deployment and pulls up the footage of his apartment, and watches as you find one camera by accident, and go on a rampage throughout his apartment and find the rest. oops, simon really shouldn't have rushed putting those things up.

doesn't really stress, knows he'll just have to wait and go find you again. at least now he won't have to hide just how much he loves you.

enjoy your freedom now and good luck when that man finds you

request more

[hwallazia]

WE KNOW II – 박성화

synopsis . in which you should’ve known better before messing up with park seonghwa. | PART ONE

pairing . park seonghwa & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), some fluff at the end (yes i’m guilty), mafia!au, strangers to acquaintances?

taglist . @bro-atz @hrts4nohee | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 3k

DISCLAIMER! mean dom!seonghwa, sub! reader, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl!), slight degradation (reader is referred as “slut” & “whore” only once), nicknames (baby, beautiful, princess, darling & more), daddy kink, bulge kink?, oral sex (m & f receiving), non-explicit aftercare, cowgirl position, lmk if I missed anything!

NIC’S NOTES and here she isss! sorry I took so long, I swear I literally dug that idea out of my head also, this may have a ridiculous amount of mistakes, but I’ll reread it soon and correct them. but well, the important thing is that she’s finally here! so I hope you enjoy it ♡

Your instincts and little motor ability guided you, as your legs were severely numb from the number of sensations that overwhelmed your body. A gentle grip on your waist kept you sane and stable, making your feet advance in confusion without knowing their destination. Your eardrum was becoming more and more sensitive to the warm air that Seonghwa released through his mouth and nostrils. Little by little, you were melting into his touch.

“Don’t faint just yet, beautiful,” His intoxicating tone of voice flushing your skin. “We have quite the night up ahead.”

Your dizzy head tried to send a warning signal to your vague and rather sleepy neurons. You were about to plunge into an even bigger problem than the one you already had on your back and you weren't realizing it.

Your nervousness and numb limbs were fogging your brain up, leaving a very submissive you as a result, vulnerable to Seonghwa’s touch.

You suddenly stopped walking, your head and trunk wobbling slightly from the abrupt stop. You watched as the man’s hand reached for the door handle to turn it and lead you to a dark, cool room. The cold air condensed your tremors and you blinked a few times to allow your eyes to get used to the darkness that surrounded you and thus try to decipher Seonghwa’s intentions.

You heard the lock and instinctively turned around, finding yourself with the closed door and the masculine and slender silhouette of Seonghwa, his face being blurred by the lack of lighting. “Hm, it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” You heard his hoarse, deep voice. “Looks like I’m in luck.”

You watched as he approached you dangerously, a devilish smirk adorning his plump lips. Your breathing hitched for a few seconds as you felt him rest his long hands on your hips, his penetrating gaze peering through your soul and stabbing daggers into it. Your eyes were caught in a funny loop between seeing his eyes and his lips.

“Where should I start?” His hands went up from your hips to your back, one of them rubbing your bare shoulder and the other playing with the zipper of your elegant dress. Both making a collective effort to strip you of the silk fabric. “Normally, I’d ask if you’re okay with all this,” He tilted his head slightly to let out a soft sigh. “But you didn’t come here with good intentions, didn’t you?”

“I can’t give you a nice night if you didn’t either, love.” Finally, your dress slid down your body smoothly, your divine figure at Seonghwa’s mercy. Chills ran down your spine when you felt him curse under his breath, but you went icy the moment he abruptly brought your lips together in a kiss. There was so much hate in it and so much lust and a lot of things that weren’t exactly said and wouldn’t be if it were up to the two of you.

The abruptness of the kiss made you release a gasp, perfect for Seonghwa to insert his tongue into your oral cavity, a whine coming out of you in response. That kiss left your head spinning and a dangerous pool of heat was starting to build up down there. Your lips parted for a second to catch some breath, “Do it again. Please.”

Your request caused a shit-eating grin to decorate Seonghwa’s face. Some sense of power filling his ego up. He wasted no time in picking you up, placing his hands on your buttocks for support, and guiding you to the large bed in the meantime. A faint whimper was heard, as with your legs partially spread Seonghwa was likely to notice the embarrassing wetness staining your underwear, which you knew he would soon remove with his own hands. However, you had already made a home in his arms, you felt comfortable and immune to any harm in his strong arms.

Once he left you spread out on the bed, you resumed the sizzling kiss and the desire that had been on hold for a few seconds soon dominated your behavior. Your arms had already caught the sides of Seonghwa’s neck, and his hands had already taken up the habit of groping your waist and breasts.

“Fuck, I can do this all night long. Touch you like this,” He whispered breathlessly, a cool breeze making your skin crawl even when the atmosphere was suffocating enough for a normal person to sweat. “Wanna taste you so badly though..”

A soft whine from you was heard, causing Seonghwa to smirk. You were so vulnerable to every word, sigh, command. That man was becoming your new addiction, one you never wanted to get out of.

His hands ran all over your leg, creating a new constellation as he dragged his phalanges over every single mole and mark he met at the moment; your breath hitching every time. Seonghwa absolutely loved how pliant you were under his fingers, how submissive you could become if he pushed the right buttons. And how your thighs shuddered in excitement when his mouth was finally positioned in front of your cunt? His sanity was gone by then.

And speaking about buttons. He pressed the one that made your lips release a satisfied sigh. 

“S-seonghwa,” You squirmed under him, his arms flexing at your breathless cry. “Please.”

“Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” A silent whimper was heard as just a vague breath as his lips pressed a kiss against your inner thigh; his hands stroking it fondly. “Behave. And then I’ll give you what you want.”

You nodded vigorously, your senseless state preventing you from formulating any coherent sentences. But Seonghwa was apparently not satisfied with your answer, his palm flattening against your outer thigh after mercilessly smacking it; a loud moan coming from you in response. “Answer me, you bitch.”

“Y-yes! Hmgh, yes daddy..” You stuttered under your breath, your mind being too fucked out to realize what had just left your lips.

“You into that?” A low chuckle coming out of him, not believing your words. “Fine, I can work with that.”

Finally, he dived in, his tongue starting to swim in your wetness; a nasty sound resonating all over the room. The only possible reaction for your body was to arch your back, stretch your legs, and open them even more; surrendering to the malicious pleasure that was being provided to you by Seonghwa. That’s when you decided to give in to desire and Seonghwa and his dirty fantasies.

His tongue swirling and lapping your clit made you see stars; you swore you could hear colors. Its tip was reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his tongue pressing exquisitely against your pleasure button. Your hips studdered in attempts to move away from the mattress, but Seonghwa’s strong hands restricted any movement.

Your hands clung to the silk sheets as if your life depended on it; your knuckles turning a pinkish white. For some reason, you didn’t dare to tangle his silky hair between your fingers, something was stopping you. Seonghwa was doing an excellent job of making you see the stars and planets, you couldn’t ask for more. Right?

Your moans gradually grow louder and the wet squelching sounds of dripping center bounce on the walls, “More, Hwa. Please.” You released a broken sob; your breath quivering, nails now digging into your palm.

“So fucking greedy.” His husky voice and dark chuckle resonated inside your eardrums, “What do you want, love? My fingers?”

A bothered and childish mhm from you was heard. “Want your cock.”

You glanced down at him, meeting his dark gaze. You almost fainted when you saw him between your legs, his large pupils dilated by the ecstasy, the corner of his lips stained by your wetness. He looked so docile beneath you, but you knew that with just one command from him, you would get on all fours and a dog collar would magically appear around your neck. 

‘If I come out of this alive, it would be interesting to try it’, you thought.

“Well, aren’t you a needy little whore?” He separated from your cunt to move up to your lips and seal your protests. His tongue, once again, dominating your thoughts and mouth, “But you’re not in control tonight, sweetheart.” 

You felt how, in an agile movement, his hand grasped your hair, taking a fistful of it, forcing you to stand up and allowing Seonghwa to manipulate you like a doll. 

“On your knees, doll.” His hand grabbed your hair in such a way that you could observe every feature of his face; of course it hurt you, but you were so lost in studying those irises, deep like the ocean, that nose, perfectly sculpted, that frown that you even considered cute, and those lips, so hot that you could burn yourself to hell with just one caress.

The pain began to get more intense, so you knelt and sighed internally as you felt his grip loosen up a little. You were face to face with his prominent erection, struggling to come out of the uncomfortable fabric that had imprisoned it for so long.

Your eyebrows fluttered as you looked up at him. His frown and swollen lips constituted his twisted face; his hands working hard and desperately trying to remove the garment. His pants pooled down his ankles and his length shot out, hitting and bouncing against your nose.

“Come on, baby. Suck it like a good girl.” His fingers traced a funny line all along your scalp, holding your hair in a ponytail; his leaking tip right on your lips

And you were more than happy to oblige. You parted your lips widely enough so that at least half of his length entered your oral cavity; you were well aware that there was no physical law or mathematical rule that would allow you to put his whole cock in your mouth, but you would do everything you could to return the favor and make him feel as good as he made you feel.

You heard Seonghwa hiss and curse under his breath. The pressure he kept on your ponytail grew stronger, but you couldn’t care less. Your hands and mouth were too busy satisfying Seonghwa’s big, hard cock. Your doe-eyed gaze looked up at him and met his tensed jawline, your pupils suddenly turning into pink, shiny hearts.

“Come on, doll. You can do better than that.” His praise was followed by a deep groan, his hand guiding your head further, “You can take it all in. Right, princess?”

You closed your eyes tightly like a scared child, trying not to gag around it. You had to show him that you were a good girl, and you would do it by giving him the best blowjob of his life.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Show me what that pretty mouth can do,” He praised through gritted teeth; his breath hitched, his muscles tensed, “Work for it, love. I’m almost there,”

You complied with his order, sucking harder with greater force. You wanted his mind to melt with all the pleasure you were giving him, for his body to surrender to yours. He hissed as soon as he noticed how you complied with his command.

“So fucking pliant. God,” He heaved a sigh. His free hand running through his silky, now sweaty hair, “You love sucking my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” You yearned, your lips forming a cute smile, without showing your teeth. Your glaze-over eyes caused Seonghwa to utter some profanity you couldn’t quite understand.

“Can’t wait anymore,” You heard him say breathlessly. 

His hand caught your shoulder and gently pulled it up, indirectly ordering you to stand up. Once on your feet, your knees felt partially sore. His hand guided you towards the bed again, but you stopped when you saw that he was the one who lay down first, his back flat against the headboard.

Seonghwa analyzed your state from the bed; messy hair, messy lipstick, mascara dripping from the sides of your eyes, exquisitely erect nipples, neck and thighs marked with bites and red hickeys. ‘A sight for sore eyes’, he thought.

He patted his lap a few times and locked gazes with you, “Get in here and ride me, doll.”

Your body quivered in excitement and you quickly climbed onto the bed to straddle his lap, his hardening cock making contact with your wet folds. You unconsciously began to move against his length seeking relief or some sort of friction. Seonghwa was quick to catch your hips in his hands, stopping your desperate movement.

“Desperate, are we?” He whispered, almost dismissively, “What did I say earlier, love?”

“That I have to behave,” You repeated as if you had studied his words.

“Good girl,” He grabbed almost tenderly your cheek and joined your lips once again in a feverish kiss. You were so immersed in the feelings that kiss caused you that you didn’t realize the moment in which Seonghwa slid his fat cock inside you, a broken moan pouring out of your lips.

“F...Fuck, Seonghwa. Be gentle- mgh!” You stumbled over your words as you felt him so deep inside you, a perfectly formed lump in your belly. Your breath hitched the moment you felt him shift in his place, his cock deliciously reaching unknown spots.

The way he threw his head back due to the tightness of your walls made you squeeze him even more. He had his eyes shut tightly as he breathed in heavily, large beads of sweat rolling on his temple and hanging on for dear life on his sharp jawline.

Yes, that mere vision had you moaning and your throwing your head back.

Exactly a minute passed and Seonghwa hadn’t performed a single move. Your desperation was beginning to overflow and you found no other way to show him your impatience other than by whining like a baby.

“Daddyy, please move,” You cried out; doe-eyed as you stared at him.

“Show me how badly you want my cock, doll.” He muttered faintly in a low voice. 

You had said unimaginable things that night. It couldn’t hurt to lose a little more dignity.

“Pleaseee, daddy. I need your cock so badly, need you to fill me up and fuck my brains out,” Your heart was intensely hammering your ribs; your heartbeat deafening your eardrums.

“If you don’t shove your cock inside me, then I’ll do it.” You protested.

“Do it then. Fuck yourself on my cock, silly girl.” 

And he didn’t have to tell you twice. You began to bounce on his cock as if your life depended on it, your hands using his broad shoulders as support. Shattered moans and husky grunts filled the room up, the clash between your skins being the main sound of the symphony. 

“S-seonghwa- Nghh, ahh! You’re so.. sooo- ugh!” You had lost the ability to formulate intelligible sentences the moment Seonghwa started hammering his hips into yours.

“So what? So deep that you can’t even think straight anymore?” A weird combination between a strained moan and a chuckle left his lips, “I really did fuck your brains out, huh?”

Seonghwa asked you and you didn’t even have the time to agree before another loud cry left your swollen, red lips. Accordingly, he abruptly shoved two of his fingers into your mouth, muffling your moans and keeping them at an ideal volume —low enough so that no one would think he was killing you.

Your mind was completely mush by then; his thrusts grew harder, faster and sloppier, his fingers eventually leaving your hot mouth. You were sure that with a couple of thrusts, Seonghwa would open the doors of an unknown heaven for you, pushing you into an eccentric abyss of pleasure.

“Right there! Ugh right the fuck there..” You sobbed brokenly, “I’m gonna- c-cum, ahh! Please daddy, can I? Pleasepleaseplease,”

“Cum, pretty girl. Make a mess all over my cock,”

And with no delay, you squirted like champagne, staining his cock and the expensive sheets with your fluids. You let Seonghwa manipulate your body as he pleased to reach his high as well. Overstimulation being very sensitive and toe-curling but with your priority being Seonghwa’s release, you couldn’t care less.

“Fucking hell, you’re squeezing down on me- ah! so hard..” His breath hitched for the last time that night; his muscles tensing with your recent release, “Gonna cum inside you and fill you up so fucking good. Gonna be walking with my cum dripping out of your pussy for a week,”

And he did. He filled you to the bone the moment he hammered his hips against yours for the last time. He remained still for a couple of seconds as he felt his cock twitch inside your warm, squishy walls.

You caught you breath after a few minutes in silence, finally settling into bed; both of you lying down while Seonghwa wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him.

“Well, wasn’t that supposed to be a punishment?” You question.

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” A cute giggle came out of you, ”So, what do we do now?”

“We both go back to our lives, of course,”

You knew it would end like this. But why does it hurt you a little?

A moment of uncomfortable silence came in. Until Seonghwa decided to break it, “Let’s exchange numbers. Maybe we can keep on talking? You know, I could help you with your work and you could help me with mine.”

A fond smile decorated your lips, your iris suddenly turning into shiny bulbs, “Sounds good to me,”

You settled back into his arms, finding warmth in them. A warmth and security that you haven’t felt in a long time. His calm breathing numbed your eyelids, which were beginning to close little by little. Finally you were immersed in a soft, ideal world of dreams and stars, surrounded by Seonghwa’s arms.

Maybe, after all, your boyfriend was something you could get over with

| masterlist

[raainberry]

I’m so glad you got lost

Jihyo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - helping a damsel in distress like in the old times still works like a charm (you’re a security guard at a music festival and Jihyo appreciates both your help and looks)

worcount - 2.9K

T/W - none i think, but like cute summer vibes, first meeting, sweet moments, you’re whipped for her, the usual stuff

A/N - lowkey struggled, tried to get a bit out of my comfort zone by adding a little more desc but not mad at how it turned out

The outdoor festival Jihyo and her friends chose to spend their weekend at was a success. The atmosphere was vibrant, fun and exciting, the music was good, the food was even better, but perfection is just never possible.

Something had to go wrong or else it wouldn’t fun.

Losing a few people in a friend group as large as hers is understandable and not uncommon. It’s expected, maybe even fate, but only losing one? Now it just felt like luck was involved and there wasn’t any on her side as Jihyo found herself to be that one lost friend.

She tried to scan the elated faces surrounding her for signs of more familiar ones in vain. She could feel a sense of mild unease creeping over her as the crowd seemed to grow denser, making it all the more difficult to locate anything familiar by the minute.

She was slowly feeling herself losing grip over the situation when a gentle hand found its way to her shoulder.

The sudden contact startled her though, and she turned to see who it belonged to. Last thing she expected to face was a warm, comforting smile.

"Hi! You look like you’re on a mission,” you chuckled. “Need a little help?" you offered over the loud music.

Jihyo’s eyes quickly noticed your attire, and if the black and bulky clothes you wore didn’t make it evident enough, the “security” arm band did enough on its own. She’s never been more thankful for assistance in her life, and a flicker of relief crossed her features as she nodded.

"I'm looking for my friends, there’s no service and it's getting a bit overwhelming.” she explained, her voice barely audible.

You nodded understandingly, and gestured for her to follow you. With practiced ease, you navigated through the crowd while Jihyo trailed close.

Your familiarity with the festival grounds seemed to guide you effortlessly, and maybe it was the distress she was in, mixed with the fact that you jumped in to save her when no one seemed to care—maybe the uniform had its hand in as well, but… You looked pretty cute.

The soft and warm smile, the gentle and protective gaze as you looked back at her every once in a while, making sure she followed suit—and the hand… The way your hand brushed against her exposed skin as you guided her; never daring to rest it on her arm, her back…

The subtle spark your touch ignited didn’t go unnoticed on your end either.

In fact it was very much felt. Though you were focused on getting your job done, part of your attention was monopolised by her appearance.

Jihyo, a name you had yet to learn, was certainly one of the prettiest sights this weekend outdoors offered. The make up she wore was flattering, highlighting features you found to be among your favorite in people. They looked even better on her.

You crossed eyes with her brown ones a few times on your way over to the security post. The hints of worry as she looked around tugged at your heart, feeling a sudden need to protect her beyond the way your duty called for.

“Let's see if we can spot them from here." You said, holding on to the bit of professionalism left in you before helping her up the ladder to reach the small elevated shed.

It was a sort of temporary lifguard tower imitation. Your colleagues referred to it as a base to make it sound fancier—which you mocked them for multiple times—but part of you hesitated to use the word in case it would impress the damsel you’d brought over.

You judged against it though, something your future self would be thankful for, and instead guided the woman up to the railing surrounding it.

The vantage point offered a broad view over the better half of the festival, and her eyes wasted no time in scanning the animated sea of festival-goers.

You joined the search only a second later, snapping yourself out of the micro-trance her sculpted arm sent you in when she brought her hand up to shield her eyes.

You don’t know how long it took, if the silence as your gaze flitted from one cluster of people to another was awkward or not; but she ended reuniting with her friends.

Their shouts for her as they noticed her up the tower from the ground taught you her name, and you had a hard time tellibg whether your smile was because of how funny their desperate waving looked from up there, or because of the way her name fit every idea of her your mind had managed to come up with.

A wave of relief washed over Jihyo, and you were sure to never forget that grateful smile she sent you before rushing to friends.

Who knows how they got separated. The thought was very much far out of line, but you were glad she got lost.

—

As the day melted into the night, the festival began to wind down, and the crowd started to thin out.

Jihyo and her friends made their way towards the exit, with the day's excitement still clinging to their spirits. A bunch of memories were made that day, all ranking in their own degree of wholesomeness.

The smile on Jihyo’s lips was subtle, her mind lost in the remnants of her emotions as she walked surrounded by the people she cared so much about.

Their intensity was exhausting, and little did she know this festival had just one more thing to make her feel, and her friends were very much happy to help with that.

As the group approached the exit, they spotted you there, your attentive gaze scanning the departing crowd. A quiet presence amidst the festival's crescendo.

Jeongyeon, her most daring friend couldn't resist her own playful nature as she hurried to tease Jihyo, "Look, your savior’s still on duty.” Her elbow nudged into her best friend’s back a couple times as her messing around soon received back up.

“Why don't we go and say thank you for helping you?" Sana giggled, not bothering to wait for an answer from anyone, much less Jihyo as she made her way over to you.

The sight of a bubbly woman darting towards you was enough to get you on alert. Sana was oblivious to the walls you’d put up, and the ease with which she knocked them down was alarming.

You guessed her charm had a lot to do with it, but recognizing her as one of Jihyo’s friends from earlier did most of the job. As soon as you did, your gaze was quick to find the rest of the group approaching you.

Among them stood Jihyo, who stayed silent as they expressed their appreciation for your assistance earlier in the day.

Half their words didn’t make it to your brain, which was crazy considering there wasn’t many. In the moment, you found Jihyo’s silence to be much more interesting and important than anything else.

Teasing words and drunk people needing guidance could wait, you had an opportunity to take.

Your eyes met, and the sparks you caught in them were undoubtedly fueled by each other’s lingering effects ghosting over your skin. It seemed you could communicate without uttering a word, but you still needed her friends to make anything of this miracle.

The two of you exchanged numbers amidst the playful teasing of her friends, their laughter and banter serving as a backdrop to this tentative yet promising connection.

As she struggled to type in the right numbers in the correct order in your phone, Jihyo could only thank the moon for hiding the blush burning into her cheeks at the thought of everything this could lead to…

—

Well, back to square one apparently. Although the year it took to get there brought some wonderful changes.

“I can’t believe I’m back here again…” You sighed in disbelief over the situation.

You knew history repeats itself or whatever, and sure the romance you’ve built with Jihyo was one for the books, but damn… Losing your friends twice at the same festival is just too much.

While the situation kind of annoyed you, Jihyo seemed amused by it, laughing as she turned to you after a quick scan of the area. “Y/n, stop whining, it’s like a full circle moment, isn’t that fun?”

“Okay, but how do you lose eight people at once, I don’t understand.” You whined even more, frustrated, but the feeling was weak compared to the smile that cracked through your façade when you met your girlfriend’s pretty eyes.

They had a mischievous twinkle in them as she suggested, “Okay, let’s use your useless height. Let me climb on your shoulders,” she tapped on them and you lowered yourself down. “I’ll see if they’re anywhere near.”

“If that’s what you wanted all along you could have just said so.” You mumbled. “Didn’t have to lose everyone…”

A playful grin tugged at the corner of her lips as you caught her shameless one. You couldn’t resist her infectious joy. It only took you a few seconds to secure Jihyo onto your shoulders, and you went on to navigate through the scattered sea of people, laughter blending with the distant music.

"See them yet?" You asked after a while of weaving through the crowd. Jihyo shook her head, her hair swaying with the motion. "No," she frowned, gaze sweeping over the people’s head in search of the same familiar faces.

Apparently you took that as a sign to let her down, and she found out when you suddenly stopped in your tracks, crouching down to make her step down safely. Key word was sudden; Jihyo was not ready for the drop and ended up reaching for your hair out of survival instinct, accidentally tugging on it.

That hurt, naturally, so you let out a half genuine whine and brought a soothing hand to the top of your head as she tried to do some damage control. She’d made it down unharmed, but at what cost.

“Oh, baby I’m sorry—” She laughed through her apology, and although you didn’t doubt her concern, her laughter did make the mocking come out on top.

Her hands tried to convince you otherwise, gently brushing your hair away from your face. You felt a rush of warmth as Jihyo's fingers brushed against your skin, her touch sending that same old shiver down your spine.

Despite her obvious amusement, there was an undeniable tenderness in her actions as she cupped your chin, her gaze scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. You couldn’t help but lean into her touch, appreciating how close she was.

“You should have warned me, did it actually hurt?” She asked and you pouted your lips in hopes to get a healing kiss from her own.

“Kind of.” You said, but she only gave you a few mocking giggles, making you sulk even more.

“I’m really sorry.” Jihyo's laughter was infectious, filling the air with joy as she peppered kisses all over you. You could feel the pain fading with each one of them. Each touch of her lips against your head, your forehead, spilling over your temples…

Placebo effect or the healing power of love, whichever it was, it worked.

It was in moments like these, where you stood together, lost in your own little world, that you realized how grateful you were for her and the love and warmth she’d brought into your life.

“Well, there you are!” A familiar voice you recognized as Nayeon’s pulled your eyes off each other, finding the rest of the group trailing behind her. “We’ve been looking everywhere, stop wandering off!”

“Yeah, or just get a room. No one wants to see this.” Jeongyeon gestured to the two of you, waving her hand around in a way that pulled a laugh out of everyone.

You only shared an amused look with Jihyo, a silent understanding prompting the two of you to playfully stick your tongues out in response, brushing off the harmless teasing.

—

Jihyo is competitive.

You knew that by now and learned the hard way. The only reason you don’t cry when she renders you bankrupt in Monopoly is because you’re cut from the same cloth.

She’d found her match in more ways than one, and her friends were oh so delighted, taking any opportunity to turn games into a true and free show by putting the two of you on opposite teams.

“You don’t stand a chance.” You told Jihyo, grabbing the cornbags from the friendly festival-goers who’d put up the game and turned it into a side attraction.

Trashtalk isn’t the most loving kind of talk, but the two of you kept it playful and harmless, taking it as a form of bonding.

“I love you.” Jihyo answered, ignoring your words, and her knowing look startling you into a horrifying realisation.

How could you forget about the pre-game vows…

“Right, I love you too.” You smiled, quickly going over to her side in order to lay a shy kiss on her cheek. The gesture pulled a few aw’s and laughs from the small crowd around, but you could very well distinguish your friend’s teasing as you went back to your side.

The game started shortly after with Jihyo opening it. She never went easy on you, and neither did you, to everyone’s pleasure.

The way you bickered, trying to destabilize and distract each other in each round was a highlight of a lot of people’s night.

While you tried to stay civil, only sticking to playful taunts and harmless cheating claims, your girlfriend went as far as stealing one of your bags.

Honestly you weren’t mad she did it, you were only mad you didn’t do it first because the point she made with it was counted by the appointed referee, along with the crowd’s approval.

It was everything but fairplay, but it was a good time. A memory you’d cherish for a long time.

“Congratulations, Hyo.” You shook her hand and she chuckled at you formal greeting. “I hope you know I let you win.”

Her laugh resonated amidst people’s cheers and playful protests from the ones who’d been cheering for you.

The smile on your face stuck around even when she landed a playful swat on your shoulder. If it weren’t her you’d be sulking like never before. She was the only one you’d be glad to lose against.

—

The chaotic search earlier didn’t teach you anything. That same evening you wandered off again, although this time you did at least agree on a place to meet back at.

As the night slowly settled in the sky, moon and stars rising to offer a gentle lighting support to the ones the festival offered, the two of you embarked on a stroll around the grounds you were still familiar with somehow.

Hands clinging to the other, fingers intertwined and shared giggles marked the way you’d remember the moment.

After a while, you walked into a quieter, more secluded area where nature seemed to hush the lively music still blasting from the stages afar.

The playful twinkle in your eye was hard to miss and stay indifferent to for Jihyo as you sat down, arms wide open and inviting.

You recognized the grin she sent you before ignoring the arms she was actually dying to feel around her. She went to sit next to you instead, prompting your shoulders to sink down with your arms.

“Why are you so mean to me today…” You sighed, wonder dramatically evident on tour face.

Jihyo chuckled, a soothing sound that brought more comfort to the bubble you were immersing yourselves in. “I’m not mean, you just made it really easy for me to tease you,” she shrugged, eyes wiping her nonchalant words with the affection they held for you.

Your smile returned when she carried herself into your lap shortly after, shifting herself to comfortably rest her back against your chest.

A quiet conversation eased itself between the two of you, soft and shy words reminiscent of the path you’d shared together so far as you mindlessly cuddled her; your gentle swaying a soothing rhythm.

“Do you remember when we met here?” Your voice sounded a little more nostalgic than you meant as you spoke.

Jihyo’s gaze softened on the flowers standing in the grass she was picking at. “Of course I do. It was only a year ago.”

“Feels longer, though, no?” You asked, wondering if she felt the same for a few seconds. The bond you’d developed was so strong, sometimes you forgot it was only your 8th month together coming up.

Everything was still so fresh, yet intense in the most perfect way. You could only hope she was on the same page.

“It does.” She admitted quietly. “It’s a little scary to think about sometimes.”

You recognized the nerves in the small laugh she let out, and you focused on softening the patterns your fingers caressed over her upper arm as she continued. “I mean… I was hopeful when I gave you my number, but I really didn’t think it’d amount to anything close to what we have.”

A small smile tugged at your lips upon hearing her words. It was enough reassurance for your heart. “You know, I never told you this, but… I thought this then and I think it now; I’m so glad you got lost that day.”

Her giggles sounded amazing breaking the peace and quiet you were getting used to, and she suddenly sat up to look at you in an amused kind of disbelief.

“Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, but you looked so pretty, and your smile almost made me faint; what else was I supposed to think?”

“Really?” She said slyly, poking at your chest. “What else happened?”

“Well, there’s not much. We barely spoke and acknowledged each other for like ten minutes tops.” You reminded, and the truth only made her roll her eyes before bringing you in for a kiss.

Her sudden impulse led you to share a quick, tender kiss, something you almost considered a moment of weakness when you pulled away on instinct, expecting the girls’ banter and teasing.

You could only laugh at each other when you realized you were alone. Happiness bubbled between the two of you, pushing Jihyo to draw you back into a sweet, deeper kiss.

It didn’t last long though, as your embrace soon got interrupted by the sudden burst of fireworks further away.

Right, that’s what you’d wandered off for this time.

[aniesvision]

𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆.

𐂃 𝙱𝙵! 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝙶𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄, 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑, 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒏𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☹︎

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒉𝒊! 𝒔𝒐, 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒊'𝒎 𝒔𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒄, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒖𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚. 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓: 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

When your boyfriend Matt texted you saying he needed a few days alone to think and try to organize his life, it made you feel useless. You said you wanted to be there for him, to help him out, to support him, but all he wanted was to get away from you.

Matt's a stubborn kid, since you met him you got to know all his little flaws, and still, you loved him deeply, and by the way you two quickly got along it was obvious you'd end up together. Said and done, you started dating a few months prior, and until now things were great. It looked like he changed out of nowhere, his texts were dry, he didn't pick up your calls, and he just simply disappeared after saying he needed some space.

You tried and tried to think of anything that justified his actions, but you couldn't, because honestly, you hadn't done anything wrong, he was just handling too much and wanted to do something about it, alone.

You tried to be comprehensive, everyone needs some time alone and maybe he was just overwhelmed. You waited and waited, and then your patience was gone.

One week, seven entire days Matt decided not to talk to you. Not to give you any sign of life, any satisfaction, anything, nothing. It was like he didn't even exist and you couldn't go through another day without knowing what was going on, you could barely live with the pain in your heart, your mind was wondering if he still wanted you and that was killing you.

You drove to Matt's house, ringing the doorbell and waiting for someone to open the door. Your heart was pounding against your chest, it was physically hurting you by now. The anxiety, the uncertainty, the fear.

Chris was the one who opened the door and he quickly hugged you. You two talked a bit, and he was so surprised to know Matt was giving you some sort of silence treatment. It was nothing like him, and that was the worst part of it, knowing you were seeing a different side of him.

You knock on Matt's door and it takes him a few seconds to finally open it, his tired eyes meeting yours.

-What are you doing here? -He asks, the coldness in his tone makes your heart break a bit more.

Something inside you knew what was going on, and knew how things were going to end.

-You haven't talked to me all week. -You say, in a low voice, disappointed.

He huffs and rolls his eyes, walking to his desk without giving you any hugs, without looking at you with the excitement he used to feel whenever your eyes met.

-I'm just stressed, I wanted some time alone, I told you that.

He sits on his desk chair and you think twice before walking to take a seat on the edge of his bed.

-I know, but I miss you, Matt. I want to be here for you, I want to help you through everything. I love you, you know that.

You say, trying to hang on to the hope you have left.

-Yeah, but I don't need love, I need solutions, and you can't give me that.

His words are almost sarcastic, it was the sign you were looking for. Your eyes immediately filled with tears, your lips parted in shock at how unreal it was for you to be hearing something like this from the sweetest guy you've ever met.

-Oh... okay. -You whisper, too hurt to say anything else.

You look down, wiping some tears, his eyes not even bothering to look at you. He kept his attention on the screen in front of him.

It felt like you just got shot in the heart. You could feel it breaking piece by piece, leaving nothing but a void of darkness and sadness. One more reason for you to spend sleepless nights crying over someone who doesn't even care.

When he hears you sniffing, he turns his head to study you, and with all the stress all he can do is get angrier.

-Can't you see I'm trying to work here? If you don't have anything else to say, just leave already, geez.

You lift your head to look at him, nodding your head slowly and standing from the bed, quickly tying your hair in a messy bun.

-So I guess that's goodbye then, isn't it? -You ask, just to be sure, voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

-Yeah, yeah, whatever, close the door on your way out.

The indifference makes you feel completely shattered, but you do what he said, and walk away, closing the door behind you. It's safe to say you never came back, but the most painful part was that he didn't bother texting you, his brothers had to apologize and offer to be there for you. But not him.

I still don't know what happened, or what changed, I'll probably never know, but that day when I walked out of his room, it was the last time I saw him.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

@riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @anabanana28 @flower-sturns @sturncakez @sssoniaswiftt @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @sturnsxbitvh @nessii-sturniolo @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @slxtformatt @lovingregulusblack @starnoirr @katie-tibo @mattsfavbigtitties @sturnioloblues

[luveline]

hiii, can you do something for aaron comforting pregnant!reader? just lots of comfort and softness (ily<3)

You thought you liked being pregnant. Aaron says you're as beautiful as you've ever been, and there's something comforting about the bump forming. The knowledge that you have a new love so close, maybe. 

But there's something off about it too. Your body isn't solely yours, or that's the way it feels, and though you'd never wish for the baby to be away from you before it's time, you'd like a break. He's a heavy weight to carry, your little Hotchner. He makes your back hurt, your legs ache. Your hands shake before breakfast every day and the morning sickness gets old.

The hormones are intense, too. All in all, you're overwhelmed. It affects everything you do. 

A dropped cup becomes something else. 

“You okay?” Aaron asks. 

You've broken a glass before, you've done it twice in his kitchen alone, but this time it's the last straw. You bend down to clean it up, realise you can't really bend, and then that you can't do it without gloves anyhow. “What am I doing?” you say, your voice dripping with disdain. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asks, quieter now. “I'll do it. Sit down.” 

He doesn't speak without love. In fact, you'd say that the very infrastructure of his voice is imbued with affection, like every sentence could end in a pet name. 

“I can do it.” You shake your head. “I can't do anything. I'm useless, I'm–” worthless, you want to say. Completely worthless, nothing to give, hardly functioning, and now you can barely clean up after yourself. 

You squeeze your hands together and take a few steps back. Aaron meets your eyes unflinching, impossible to look away from as he follows you, closing the gap. 

“You're not useless. You're less agile than usual for good reason.” 

“I'm useless,” you repeat, self-hatred (not hatred, something different, more pitying, more shameful) thick on the tongue. 

“Honey. You're not useless.” 

“I am.” The first tear wells and races down your cheek within the same second. Your lip begins trembling. “I can't do anything anymore.” 

“You think so?” he asks gently. 

“I can't do it,” you say. 

Your voice breaks. Aaron doesn't need much more instruction, gathering you into his arms for a hug, the bump of your stomach no match for his height. “It's okay,” he says, again so gently, “it's okay.”  

“It's not.” You cry and it aches. You cry like a little kid, wildly out of control of your life. 

“It is, honey, it is. I know… it's not only a glass. You've been rearing up to this for a while.” 

You cry harder, wrists crossed around his back and your face rammed hard into his neck. It must hurt. You're trying to hide from the ache of your panic but there isn't anywhere to go —you're pregnant and you want to be, but you're trapped, too. 

“Aw, I don't know what's wrong with me,” you choke out, spluttering into his collar. 

He doesn't complain. “Nothing–” 

“I know it's not easy–” 

“–is wrong with you. Exactly. It's not easy.” He's calm in the face of your bleeding heart. “Honey, this is one of the hardest things a person can do, and that alone means you're the opposite of useless right now. You're making a big change, a sacrifice, to bring someone new into the world.” 

He pulls your face back from his neck with a kind hand. “Your baby doesn't think you're useless. I can tell you that for sure.” 

“I wish I could take a break,” you admit, shamefaced.”I'm such a bad mom already.” 

He doesn't agree. It's in the line of his mouth, the stillness of his gaze. Aaron takes your hand from his back and pulls it slowly to your stomach, flattening your fingers over the very apex of its hill, his own warm and large covering it surely. “You're not a bad mom, not even close. I don't think so, the baby doesn't think so.” He smiles. “Jack certainly doesn't think so.” 

You take a deep breath. “Really?” 

“Jack couldn't have asked for a better step mom, honey. Wanting a break from the side effects doesn't mean you don't love him, does it?” 

Him as in the baby, the heartbeat, the little head and arms and legs, the tiny brain. Wanting a break from your pregnancy and its constant barrage of symptoms doesn't make you a bad mom. 

“You aren't useless,” Aaron says, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “You're my partner, and you're his mother, and if you can't do some of the things you'd usually do right now, that's okay, because I'm here to do them for you.” 

That makes you cry more. Aaron drops his face to yours and presses your noses together, shushing your sobs. You, much less composed, grasp at the swell of your stomach. “Sorry,” you say in a weak whisper, hot all over and not sure how to cope. “I'm sorry, baby.” 

“You don't need to say sorry to him. He's the one at fault, anyway.” 

A laugh slips past your lips before you can think about it. “Don't say that.” 

“No?” Aaron pulls away, taking the fat of your arm into his hand. “I suppose it could be my fault. But it was your idea.” 

“No it wasn't.” 

“No, it wasn't,” he says, his fingers sliding a slow path down to your elbow, “but you do want this, don't you?”

“Of course I do.” 

Your quick answer makes him smile. He wipes your wet cheeks dry with an infinite carefulness, thumb trailing down the apple of your cheek to catch a last little tear. “Let me sit you down, sweetheart. I bet you feel even more tired than you did to begin with.” 

Pregnancy isn't always (or really often) fun, nor is crying your eyes out into the unfailing arms of your husband (though that had it's redeeming factors, mainly the smell of him, and the way he held you like he knew exactly how to make it all better), but you feel better for it, rather than worse as he's suggesting. Still, you soak up Aaron's quiet doting, a hand pressed to your baby bump as he kisses the side of your head. 

[veren-cos]

Bachelors (Sdv) x reader!

Comfort after a rough day. Nothing too specific in this one, really lighthearted ngl

Sam

• Would definitely let you sit on his lap and just let everything out

• Whether it is anger, sadness, general overwhelmed, he does not care and just wants to br there for you.

• Once you cry it all out you are just. So tired.

• He would for sure sing you to sleep. Like, he is the leader of a band, he has to be good at it!!

• Eventually carries you to your bed, and in the morning he wakes up extra early to make you breakfast.

Sebastian

• He would prep everything at home to literal perfection.

• Bed would be made, crops would be watered if you hadn't yet, animals fed.

• Specifically the bed tho. He washed and dried (with extra time to make them super warm) the sheets and blankets. Even fluffed the pillows, but he doesn't think it actually does anything.

• Once everything is all done, it is definitely cuddle time

• Wraps you up in his arms and just starts talking

• You love the sound of his voice, and just listening to him talk about his day is really comforting

• He is big on distracting people to comfort them, and then talking about it later.

• The next morning you two talk about what was going on, but he is just a big sweetie.

• Very much an actions instead of words man with comforting.

Alex

• Would cook something

• Aka cookies

• He spent a lot of time with his grandma cooking so yeah

• He is almost definitely an acts of service or physical touch kinda guy.

• Will help you with everything on the farm for the rest of they day.

• If he isn't doing anything, he would probably give you extra help the whole week just to make it up to you.

• Wouldn't exactly know how to be comforting but he would definitely listen about whatever is going on. He just maybe wouldn't know what to do after (me too buddy me too-)

Harvey

• Oh he would know you were off right away.

• He isn't necessarily good with words and providing comfort, but he is still extremely successful in showing he cares.

• He makes you your favorite dinner, and while he won't prod, he encourages you to talk about your day and how your feeling.

• You watch a comfort TV show together, and end up just spending a lot of time together as a distraction.

• If you do talk about it. Harvey will try and help in whatever way possible.

• But he just wants to be there for you!

Elliott

• Runs a bath for you

• Uses all his fancy stuff that even he barely uses

• Washes your hair and talks to you about your day

• Gets you to calm down and relax!

• Might play the piano as you fall asleep?

• Once you actually are asleep, he gives you loads of cuddles!

Shane

• Sets a chicken on your lap when you come home for the day.

• That's it.

• It always makes him happy to spend time with the chickens and other animals.

• So yeah. Chicken!

An* I don't remember writing basically any of this. I found it in my notes app and literally Harvey was the only one missing. So yeah! This was a surprise for me too lol

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