#but they used to be even MORE beautiful covered in flowers

[okwonyo]

VALENTINA, BABY ! ❞ ENHYPEN AS YOUR VALENTINE𓈒

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬 ──── 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖺, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗂 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒.

enhypen & fem!rea 1OOO fluff established relationship 𓂃 skinship kissing 愛MORE ｡

桜んぼ ܃ happy valentines day everyone 🎀 i hope yoi all received a lot of love today ><

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HEESEUNG you wait for him to come home all night. well, not really all night— but he does come back home quite later than usual. you assume it’s because of work, you are used to him coming home to you a little more late than he usually does sometimes. you don’t mind it that much honestly, even if it’s a special day today. “baby! i’m home,” he voice rings from the door. as you always do, you get up to welcome him. but, you find yourself too stunned to speak— the man in front of you smiles widely with a teddy bear that is half of his height in his hands and a red, heart shaped box that, you assume, is filled with chocolate. “for my pretty valentine,” he tells you.

JAY the man knows how much you love valentine’s day and he knows how much you cherish his food. therefore, he decides to cook for you today. “go get ready, princess,” he orders gently while you watch him cook. “are you trying to get rid of me?” you tease, getting off the counter to go shower— he laughs, dragging you back to him by your wrist before planting a kiss on your forehead, “never.” he is already all ready, well dressed with a perfect hairstyle when you open the door to get out of the shower. he compliments before covering your eyes, walking you to the leaving room and when he lets you see again, your breath is taken away. there is a table full of food in the middle of the dark room, only enlightened with candles all over the place.

JAKE flowers always end up perishing, he knows that. he is aware that they don’t last very long, less than any other gifts he could give you. but he also knows that the gesture never does. he loves to see your face brighten when he gives a bouquet to you, he loves to see the smile growing wider on your lips the longer you look at it and he can’t stop thinking about the kisses you give him in lieu of a ‘thank you’. you are used to it, to receiving gorgeous bouquets from your lover— yet, you are always beyond happy it happens. and today, he decides to do something bigger. which is sending a dozen of bouquets, with different flowers arrangements each time, to your apartment while you wait for him to take you on a date.

SUNGHOON he loves you. it has never been a secret to anyone— especially not to himself. he finds something new to love about you everyday, from the way you talk to the way you are, from your beautiful features to your inside beauty and it’s flaws, there is nothing he doesn’t cherish. and he wants to tell you about it, all time. every day, every hour, every minute, every second, his love for you keeps on growing as well as the craving need of putting in words. he chooses to do it, to celebrate the love between you and him— through a long letter, where every single thing he loves about you is written down. “tomorrow, for sure, there will be ten more things that i discover about you and keep close in my heart. until it stops beating, even after.”

SUNOO “what is that supposed to be?” he laughs, rather loudly after taking a look at your hand crafted paper heart. today, as a romantic activity, your boyfriend decided to make you craft little hearts together to put them in the scrapbook of your relationship— however, he finds your hearts ugly and isn’t discreet about it. “okay, i’m not crafting anymore,” you pout slightly, putting your heart down and leaning on the couch behind you. he laughs even louder while taking a piece of red paper on the table with the scissors. “look,” he says, wrapping his arms around you while you cross yours under your chest and lean against his. “this is how you do it,” he tells you, cutting another heart in the red paper. “how is that any different from mine?”

JUNGWON you can feel him stare at you as you put the cream on the cookies you just got out of the oven. you only watch him from your peripheral vision, yet, you know from a glimpse of the look on his face to know that he is going to do something stupid. “you have something on your face,” he warns you with a smile in his voice. “what?” you say, forgetting the cookies and starting to wipe different places on your face— but you are sure there is nothing. “where?” you end up asking him. of course, your boyfriend boops your nose, making a small point of cream sit on your lips. and honestly you can’t really do anything but stay still and stare at him blankly while he says, rather happily, “let me help you.” then he leans in, delicately resting his lips on yours and giving you a dizzying kiss.

RIKI as it is his first valentine day— because, yes, he has only ever dated you and plans on keeping it like this forever— he wants it to he a unforgettable experience. he doesn’t decide to have a date night, he opts for a day full of you and him having little dates then and there. first, he takes you the a cute cafe he looked for and made sure was the most perfect ever, to take breakfast with you. he holds your hand while he takes you shopping, compliments you on your choices and look for pieces of clothing to match yours. he sits next to you in the restaurant while you both eat lunch, lets you take a bite of his dessert and he has a sip of your drink. how he holds your shopping bags during the whole day and especially when you play arcade games is lovely, he is even cuter when he wins plushies for you. it is a fun yet tiring day, which is why it ends in a movie night in matching pajamas.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net DAILY CLICK.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Five days, Five bouquets

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: "Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?"

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: talk of a fake marriage for the sake of a mission; fluffff

Author’s Note: This is written for the writing challenge of @elixirfromthestars ♡ I wasn’t planning on writing something so soon because I’ve still got a project going on right now, but your prompts and everything were just so alluring, I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this, my dearest. And I am almost entirely certain that this won’t be my only entry to your writing challenge, because I've got some more ideas lol

Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡

Masterlist

“Again, Bucky?”

You don’t even try to mask your breathless laughter, the warmth of it slipping through as you rise from your seat.

The front door clicks shut behind Bucky and he scuffs off his boots half-heartedly on the door mat. There is a bouquet of flowers in his hand. And an even larger grin on his face.

The table before you is still cluttered with the remnants of your cover - documents, notes, a meticulously crafted facade of a life together.

A life that isn’t real, except for moments like these, when the borders become smudged just enough to make you wonder.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” he says, still smiling so wide, but his tone does not hold a trace of irony. “What kinda guy d’you think I am? Four days in a row and I just stop?” He scoffs as if the mere thought offends him. His voice is honeyed.

He stalks over to you standing at the table and holds the bouquet out for you. It is an understatedly beautiful arrangement of dusky pink roses, fluffy ruffled carnations, ivory lilies with petals curling slightly at the edges. Wisps of silvery foliage peek through, adding a breath of frost to the warmth. And then there are the deep inky leaves interwoven among the blooms, like something divine pulled from the shadows.

You take them with fingers that begin to tremble just slightly. His hand brushes over yours. A blush makes its way up your face just like every time.

You have been undercover for five days, posing as a married couple by orders from Nick Fury. And every day, even though it’s not at all necessary for you both to keep your cover, Bucky brings you a bouquet when he gets ‘home’ from his fake job.

He is embedded in a high-profile consulting firm, shadowing a suspect deeply tangled in covert operations, while you take a closer look at his wife. She’s not at all innocent. She manages high-stakes charity galas, the kind that funnel money into places they shouldn’t be. You play the devoted wife, hosting brunches, attending yoga classes she goes to, letting cautious friendships lead you to the information you need.

Five days. Five bouquets.

Each one different, but all of them hold some unspoken thing. Something that makes you shiver.

The choking in your throat is disguised with a roll of your eyes. “You do know we’re supposed to be laying low, right? Kinda hard when you’re single-handedly funding the local florist,” you tease rather lightly.

Bucky chuckles, low but bright, and you swear you feel the sound more than you hear it. “Oh c’mon, doll. Long as we’re playin’ house, I gotta keep my wife happy.”

This is a joke. It is all a joke. But your pulse is not laughing, only speeding up, tripping at the way he puts emphasis on wife. As if the word fits too well in his mouth, as if he could get used to it.

Bucky has always been a gentleman to you. Even outside of missions. But since you started this one, moving into the same house on the outskirts of town for the sake of your cover, the grumpiness and stoicism that usually surround his aura at the compound are completely lost here with you. You’ve never seen him smile as much as you have in the last five days.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter, take a closer look, and take in the many appealing colors and scents. “Thank you, Bucky. I love those,” you say warmly.

His expression falters just a fraction like it does every time, not quite knowing what to do with genuine gratitude when it’s meant for him. Although you show it to him all the time. A flicker of something unguarded passes over his features before he covers it with a scoff that only makes it out halfway. He looks off to the side, shifting his weight. “Well, can’t have my wife thinkin’ I'm slipping already now, can I?” he laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears just the slightest bit of pink.

You turn with a huffed laugh and perform the task of putting away the flowers. Shaking your head, you start to get highly aware of the wedding band around your finger, a piece of fiction Tony gave you to wear. It looks so real, yet it is a lie. And you hate it.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re not actually married?” The words fall with amusement but they sit heavier in the air than they should.

The ring fits perfectly, Tony made sure of that. But it still somehow presses against your skin. As if to remind you that Bucky is not truly yours.

Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. You see him tilting his head from your peripherals as you reach for a vase. His smile is softened. “Don’t matter, sweetheart. Might as well treat you like my wife.” His voice is quieter now, less teasing. But sure.

The kitchen and living room are already brimming with the past four days of his affections.

One arrangement graces the coffee table, another stands by the window, and two more are carefully nestled between books on the shelf at the wall to your left. A home suffused with color, with life, with something neither of you dares to call by name.

You feel the warmth of his gaze on you. He doesn’t say anything, standing there relaxed, still with that proud and fond smile on his face, watching you as if he is engraving in his memory the way you fuss over where to place this latest offering.

And maybe you take just a little longer than necessary because if you turn too soon, you’ll have to meet his eyes.

And you don’t know if you can right now.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to look away.

But you know you should. Because this is not real.

But maybe - and this is the hope speaking - it could be someday.

“Imagine someone thinking of you and buying you flowers.”

- sleepyurl

[metyouinthehallway]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Bartender!chris x stripper!reader

(This the first REAL smut between the two🤗)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Walking into the club, you’re met with a sea of red and pink. Balloons and cheesy decor litter the bar and stage. Tonight, all the girls— including you, dressed in pretty pink lingerie, some even going the extra mile and doing themed makeup.

When you make your way to the bar, you eye a single rose that’s housed in an empty beer bottle. Chris is too busy tending to customers to notice your presence until he whips around, nearly bumping into you in the process.

“Oh- hey! Happy Valentine’s Day.” He sounds just as surprised as he looks, a damp rag slung over his shoulder and his brows raised to meet the hat that sits on his head.

“Happy V-day!” You cheer, your lips curving into a warm smile. The music and chatter amongst customers withering away as the two of you hold eye contact.

“Here, for you.” Chris clears his throat, handing you the aged beer bottle, the rose poking out of the mouth of the glass. He looks almost bashful, like he’s unsure if this is too much.

“Chris,” you start, your smile slowly turning downward. You’d never received flowers before and the small gesture meant the world to you. “It’s beautiful, thank you…” your fingers toy with the petals, gleaming at the single flower before you.

“Mhm, y’know I had to get my favorite girl something.” Chris can already feel his dick jumping in his pants as he takes in the sight of you, barely covered in the sexiest lingerie he’s ever seen.

“Favorite girl, hm?” You chuckle, but before the conversation is able to continue, you’re pulled away from the bar. Your boss ordering you to start interacting with customers.

Soon enough, you’re on the stage, heart shaped decorations lousily hang from the ceiling tiles and faux rose petals are scattered on the stage floor.

Your fingers lazily wrap around the pole, men already fisting bills your way and you’ve barely even started the show yet. You know Chris is watching from afar, you can feel his gaze on you.

That’s what you want. You want the bartender to get worked up enough— both of you know he can’t do anything about it while on the clock.

You swing your body around the pole, using your upper body strength to raise yourself off of the ground. Wrapping a sultry leg around the cold metal, you twirl your body, contorting it in ways that only lonely men would pay for.

His eyes are burning into your skin. You can’t see him from the position you’re in but oh, you could feel the weight of his eyes as you prance around the dimly lit stage.

After what’d felt like hours upon hours of working, you’re bagging your tips, not bothering to count the bills. Once the night had come to a still, you’re clothing yourself, grabbing your car keys and heading to the sketchy parking lot.

“So, you just gonna go home? No big plans tonight?” Chris who’d been patiently waiting for you, leans against the side of his car, arms folded infront of his chest.

His voice caused you to jolt slightly, your fingers fumbling for your pepper spray before you realize who was speaking to you.

“Shit…! You scared me,” you chuckle, the February weather causing you to shiver despite the ginormous fluffy coat that clothed you.

“M’bad, pretty.” He lets out a breathy sigh, amused at your shock factor. He bites down on his lip ever so subtly, taking in your attire once more. “No plans tonight though… right?” He confirms, pushing off of the car and stepping toward you.

You shake your head in response. “Nope, not tonight.” The parking lot light flickers as you speak, arms now wrapped around your own body to preserve warmth and comfort— the parking lot always spooked you the most.

“Come over.” He shrugs, his voice carrying a sweet charm to it. It’s as if it was the most casual thing in the world, you going to his place. Come to think of it, would it be so terrible? The two of you have only ever interacted within public spaces. Perhaps the privacy of his walls would make you feel more comfortable.

“What?” You reply, Chris’s jaw tightens for a moment. For all he knew, he could be getting rejected on Valentine’s Day. How heartbreaking would that be?

“Come to my place. We can chill, have a shitty dinner together. Shit, who knows, maybe we’ll end up cuddling.” He confirms, you search his expression for a hint of sarcasm but it’s not there. He’s serious.

“Are you asking me to be your valentine?” You tease, a smirk playing at your lips when you realize what he’s insinuating.

“Nah, just figured if I’m gonna spend the night jerking off the the thought of you, might as well have you there, y’know?” The admission rolls off his tongue so naturally, like he holds no shame in his words.

Your eyes widen, your pussy already aching for him and he has yet to even touch you. Nodding your head, you take a step closer to Chris. “Take me to your place, bartender.” You peer up at him through your false lashes. He’d always towered over you but it’s not until now that you notice just how intense his gaze is.

The drive to Chris’s house isn’t long, three songs length. You counted. His hands fumble with his keys as he reaches to unlock the front door. He turns to look at you, desperation and forgiveness in his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak.

“I live with my brothers… Nick is probably passed out by now and I don’t think Matt’s home.” He turns the key in the lock, you can hear the door click open. You had no idea Chris had brothers. Now that he mentions it, you didn’t know much about him at all. You two only ever talked about you.

“Brothers?” You repeat as if you misheard him. He nods, holding the door open for you.

“Yeah, I’m a triplet. The youngest.” He chuckles at your amusement. You kick off your shoes at the door, noticing how fresh the house smells. Like linen and florals.

“Cmon, I’m down here.” He motions, leading you down the stairs to his bedroom. It’s much cleaner than you expected, there’s one poster thumbtacked to the wall, a rapper or something. A guitar tucked away in its case leans against the corner of his room.

“You play?” You ask, motioning to the sleek guitar case.

“Not in years.” Chris huffs in response, he takes your purse from your hands, placing it on his desk chair. “So, dinner. Whatchu thinking?” He changes the subject, plopping onto his mattress.

“Pizza?” You suggest, accepting the fact that Chris won’t be serenading you with the sweet melodies of his guitar tonight. He nods in response, watching as you hesitate to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Don’t be shy, y/n.” Chris chuckles, patting the space next to him. By the time you’d made yourself comfortable next to him, he’s already pulled his phone from his pocket and began browsing DoorDash.

“So… these brothers. Tell me about them.” You start, laying your head on his shoulder. You watch his thumb flit across the phone screen as he orders your dinner.

“Nicks the oldest, then Matt, then me. I dunno, I mean… Nick’s pretty loud and Matt’s real quiet. I’d say I’m a good mix.” He relaxes into your touch. His once tense shoulders now slumping as he becomes accustomed to your body.

“Mhm… and how come you’ve never told me you’re a triplet?” You continue. The questions spewing out of your mouth now. He hits order on the screen. Setting his phone on the nightstand and giving you his full attention.

“Never came up. Wanna watch somethin’?” He changes the subject once again. One arm snakes around your shoulders while the other reaches for his remote.

Chris puts on some random comedy, letting out a sigh of contentment as you snuggle closer to him. Your legs coming up to your chest and your full body weight leaning into his side now.

“Y/n?” Chris asks, turning to look at you.

“Yes, Christopher?” You look up at him, this is nice. The two of you, not in public. It feels almost domestic. Too domestic.

“We should get drinks.” He shifts abruptly, holding out a hand for you to take and leading you upstairs to the kitchen. A very simple very bland kitchen at that. White cabinets and a fridge decorated with coloring pages.

“Take your pick.” He opens the refrigerator door, revealing the plethora of beverages. Everything from Pepsi to lemonade and Capri-Suns.You reach for a lemonade, Chris going for a Pepsi.

“Who’s coloring?” You point out the neatly colored pages. It looks like who ever did them took their time and made sure to color between the lines.

“Us, we have hobbies y’know.” Chris teases, heading back to his room. Before he does though, he opens the front door, grabbing your food.

“I’m not judging! Just intrigued.” You defend yourself, following him around like a puppy. It doesn’t go lost on you that he locks the bedroom door behind him as the two of you re-enter his bedroom.

You sit cross legged on his bed, Chris doesn’t hold back, digging into the pizza, you doing the same. With Chris, it feels like you aren’t just coworkers. Maybe friends. Definitely more than friends.

His room is illuminated by a dim lamp and the tv that plays the forgotten movie in front of you. “So, rate this Valentine’s Day.” You take a bite of your food, watching as Chris removes his hat and places it on the nightstand.

“Couldn’t be worse. I got you here, don’t I?” Chris closes the pizza box, staring at you intently.

“Could it be better?” You rebuttal, your eyes glued to his as you take the last bite of your pizza.

“I mean…” he snorts, pornographic ideas playing on the film reel in his mind. You cock a brow at Chris, you’re a stripper sure! But does he think you’re the easiest woman alive? “Not that we have to-” he holds a hand up in defense, but you stop him with a giggle, your lips meeting his.

Your hand snakes to the back of Chris’s neck, deepening the kiss a little bit more before you pull away. “How easy do you think I am?” You bite down on your now slightly swollen lip, eyes peering at Chris’s lips for a moment.

“No- what? I never said that.” You can practically see the panic in his brain. He leans back against his headboard in defeat, his messy hair falling over his forehead.

His thoughts contradict his words though. He wanted nothing more than to have your bare backside against his sheets. He wanted nothing more than to see your brows knit together in pleasure— to hear his name fall gleefully from your lips.

“I’m messing with you, bartender.” You roll your eyes, your manicured nails tracing the hem of his denim clad thigh as you speak.

“I don’t wanna fuck you like you’re a stripper…” his breath hitches in the wake of your nails. He’s seeing you for you. Not the girl that spins around on stage for dirty money.

“So fuck me like I’m your valentine.” The seductive tone of your voice only causes Chris’s jeans to tighten around his crotch. He lets out a shaky breath as you crawl onto his lap.

“Y/n…” he mutters, his hands delicately placing themselves on your hips. The once neutral room now hot and heavy with tension. Chris is beyond nervous and he’s trying desperately to maintain his composure.

“Yes Chris?” You reverberate, running a hand up his arm, you deliberately roll your hips into his causing him to throw his head back and let out a low groan.

“Fuck…” he hisses through his teeth, guiding your hips with his hands. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his stubbled jaw, his body tensing in response.

“What’s the matter bartender? Nervous?” You tease, you’ve never seen Chris so stiff before. It was new— this was new.

“Not nervous, just unexpected?” His answer comes out as a question. His eyes meet yours again, this time there’s vulnerability behind them. “I don’t want you to think I’m like those guys…”

“I know you’re not, I wouldn’t be here if I thought any different.” Your voice is soft now, reassuring him that this is what you want. You didn’t want Chris to feel like he had to do this either.

You grind against his jeans once more, physically proving that you both want this. You can feel him growing harder beneath you and by the way you’re moving on top of him, he knows you’re feeling the same way.

“You aren’t one of my clients. We’re off the clock Chris, you can do anything you want to me.” Your words echo throughout his ears. You can see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath the takes.

He looks down at his lap, then back up at your eyes. This time, he searches them, his lips parted slightly as he struggles to find the right words.

“Are you positive? Like… one hundred percent?” He asks, his grip on your hips never tightens, if anything it becomes more delicate. Like you’re fine china on the brink of shattering.

You hum in response, your nails tugging gently at the hair on the back of his head. Chris finally gives in, pulling you close to him and connecting your lips in a desperate kiss.

Your lips move in sync with each other, parting your lips, you allow Chris to slip his tongue into your mouth. Tongues dancing together, he swallows your quiet whimpers. His own larger hand supports the back of your head as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.

Chris is quick to escalate things now that you’ve reassured him. His free hand roaming beneath your shirt, ghosting over your warm skin. You can feel his cock begging for escape beneath you, your own hands travel down to his belt, hastily unbuckling it and pulling it through his belt loops. The clatter of the metal hitting the floor heard from across the room as you toss it to the side.

Every touch is eager, both of you itching for the other. He pulls back for a moment, hands on the hem of your shirt. You nod, lifting your arms up and he wastes no time pulling your top over your head.

Your fingers move quick, impatiently fondling with his pant buttons, Chris flips you over, shimmying off his pants. His bulge hard to miss through his briefs, you look up at Chris who’s using one arm to support himself above you.

He grins like a lust struck idiot, placing kisses down your neck and collarbone, slowly pulling your bra strap down your shoulder as he does so. You lift up, letting him unhook your bra and exposing your chest to him for the first time.

He’s bites down on his lip in anticipation before attaching his lips to one of your nipples, sucking and flicking his tongue over the bud, his other hand kneading your free breast before switching attention.

“Chris!” You giggle, pulling at his hair, he leaves wet kisses in the valley of your chest. Trailing down to your tummy, his fingers toy with the waistband of your sweatpants, removing those too.

He continues his trail of kisses down to your upper thigh, neglecting where you need him most. You’re heat soaking with desire for his mouth, his fingers… anything. He peers up at your through hooded eyes, his tongue darting out to lick at your swollen bundle of nerves.

That elicits a whine from you, arching your back slightly off the bed. Chris lets out a soft chuckle, his tongue licking a flat stripe up your soaking cunt.

“So wet, hm?” He hums, spreading your legs wider, his arms wrap around either of your thighs. You nod in response, though he can’t hear it, he knows you want more.

Each flit and flutter of his tongue has you soaring above the stars. Chris knows how to work his mouth and it shows. Your thighs tighten around his head, your smaller hands grasping at his large ones, he intertwines your fingers with his, watching your face intently as he continues to eat you out.

“Shit…Chris!” You squeal, your hips grinding against his face and your grip on his hands tightens. He’s devouring you at this point. The only sounds heard from the room being your gasps and whines of pleasure mixed with his slurping and sucking. He’s completely enamored by the sight of you using his tongue to get yourself off.

Chris finally comes up for air, a smug smirk on his face as he takes in your state. “All good up there, mama?” His voice rough, you open your eyes, chest still heaving— to be met with Chris who’s chin is glistening with your arousal.

“Mhm…” you whine, bucking your hips against nothing. Chris quickly pulls himself out of his briefs, reaching in his nightstand for a condom. Impatiently, you wait for what feels like ages (it was really only ten seconds) for him to roll it onto his length. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see his size.

He slowly pushes himself into you, your walls adjusting to his girth. Once he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he stills for a moment, dipping his head down to your neck.

“You okay?” He asks against the skin crook of your neck. When you give him the approval he needed, he starts to thrust in and out of you. Gradually increasing pace. Your jaw hangs open, letting breathy moans escape your lips. Chris has never seen anything more attractive in his life.

“So… so good!” You cry out, your nails raking up and down his back as he continues his movements. You feel almost exhilarated, Chris obviously knew what he was doing and he did a damn good job at it too. His own grunts of pleasure being muffled by your skin. He places a sloppy kiss to your lips, swallowing each others pleas of desperation.

Chris pulls out momentarily, flipping you over, your ass is in the air and face buried in his sheets. He grips your hips hard, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The new position allows Chris to ram himself deeper into your pussy, your curses now being screamed into the depths of his mattress.

“Fuck, squeezin’ me so good pretty girl-” Chris praises, his hips slamming into your backside as each word leaves his mouth. Chris takes your hands behind your back, using them as reigns of support.

“Can’t…” you mewl, but that only meant you were barely holding on. Chris, could feel you tightening around his cock, your walls pulsating and he knows your on the brink of your orgasm.

“Mhm, I know you can baby, almost there.” Chris grunts, his hips full force ramming into your tight pussy. You wiggle your hands free from his grip, now grasping at the bedsheets, your back arching further as you feel yourself begin to give out.

With a few final thrusts, he has you spewing his name from your pretty lips, him shooting his load into the condom. he slows his pace, pulling out at an agonizingly slow rate, he ties the condom and tosses it into the bin. His full attention now on you again as he rubs comforting circles on your back.

“Holy shit…” he gleams at your fucked out state. Chris lets you fully collapse onto his bed, laying in the empty spot next to you. Neither of you exchanging a word for a while.

He pulls your body toward his, his front pressed against your back. Chris litters your cheek with kisses while whispering comforting words into your ear.

“So we’re definitely gonna start doing that more?” You confirm once you regain your composure. Turning to face him, you’re met with a very happy looking bartender.

Chris hums in response, lips placing a chaste kiss to your nose before speaking. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He smiles at you, never loosening his grip around your torso.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A/n: happy (late) vday to all u bartender!chris sluts <3

[hannahbarberra162]

Hearts and Flowers (Sanji x Reader, Valentine's Day Special)

For @quinloki's Love Is In The Air event, I present my (day late) Sanji x Reader. All fluff, no bite. Dedicated to @thirstydiglett and @sordidmusings, my fellow Sanji simps.

@sordidmusings and @gouraminnow beta'd this for me and I appreciate it immensely.

WC: ~ 2k

Warnings: none <3

You swirled the pink colored drink Sanji had made for you as you watched him carefully cut fruits into heart shapes and place them delicately alongside the handmade chocolates he’d prepared in advance. You weren’t sure how he had managed to keep all this from Luffy but his efforts were paying off as the multi-tiered tower of desserts and treats for you, Nami and Robin came together under his watchful eye. The galley of the Sunny was decorated like one of those fancy magazines you’d read but couldn’t afford on islands - the counters were covered in tablecloths with red and pink decorations, cakes in the shapes of hearts and flowers were on the tables, and there was a mountain of wrapped presents waiting for you all, helpfully labeled with tags. 

You hadn’t known Sanji as long as Robin and Nami but had quickly understood the chef’s love of love when you came aboard the Thousand Sunny. He was always looking at beautiful women, always simping for you, Robin, and Nami, always thinking about his future bride and wedding. And yet, watching him place the melons and pineapple on the tower, you had an inkling something was amiss with the Love Chef.

“Sanji, do you like Valentine’s day?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Of course! Who wouldn’t want to celebrate the love of Mellorines and -” he started to say, a smile on his face that didn’t match the brilliant one you’d come to know and love. You tried to stop yourself but you found yourself watching the chef near constantly when you weren’t working - you knew his body language, his mannerisms, and could even predict what moves he’d use when fighting Zoro on the deck. Which is how you knew the smile on his face wasn’t completely genuine.

“No, what I mean is - do you like Valentine’s day? You specifically?” Sanji’s beautiful hands paused after placing the last fruit on the platter as he stared blankly at the creation he had made. 

“Would you care to accompany me while I go smoke on the deck?” he asked you, reaching for the cigarettes in his shirt pocket. You hoped you hadn’t made him upset in some way; you wouldn’t say anything to intentionally hurt his feelings. 

You would never admit it to Robin and especially not Nami for fear of teasing, but you harbored a huge crush on Sanji. He was sweet, handsome, kind, helpful, and strong, everything you could ever want in a man. Sure, he could get a little silly or flirty, but you felt that if he was in a relationship he would be loyal. Sanji was your dream man, but you felt unable to actually touch him, to get to the real man inside the character.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you replied, hopping off the barrel that had been your makeshift chair. You left your pink drink on the table as you passed in front of Sanji, who was holding the door open for you to exit first. You thought he’d go to the side of the ship but instead Sanji started to walk towards the ladder to the crow’s nest.

“Oh, wow, up here?” you asked, starting to climb. You were wearing a skirt and hoped the view would tempt him to flirt with you a little. It didn’t take anything at all to have him espousing his eternal love or bleeding from his nose and that was well and good. You’d been trying to get him to show a little true emotion but maybe starting with flirting might help loosen him up. Sanji was a lot more reserved than most people gave him credit for. His outward emotions were real and reflected his heart but he didn’t often share the depths of his thoughts or feelings with anyone, much less with the newest member of the Strawhats. 

“Mmh. I don’t want to ruin my Valentine���s Day surprises for Nami-swan and Robin-chwaan!” he said, his tone falsely saccharine. You climbed the rest of the way in silence, going towards the open window to air out the smoke of his cigarettes. Standing next to you, Sanji lit up and inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

“Sanji, what’s going on?” you asked, putting your hand on his forearm in concern.”I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You could never upset me, mon ange. But I have to admit I am a little surprised to be having this conversation. I - you’re the first person to ever ask me, but to answer plainly - no. I don’t like Valentine’s day. I haven’t since my days at the Baratie,” he explained, blowing smoke out the window. 

“Would you mind if I -?” you asked, sticking out your index and middle finger. 

“My pleasure, mon amor. Would you care for your own?” Sanji asked with a smile as he reached for the pack.

“No, I want - I like sharing them,” you said, aware a small blush was creeping up your face. Sanji didn’t say anything but placed his cigarette between your fingers, curling his long elegant ones around your palm for a moment.

“So, since the Baratie?” you asked, taking a drag of your own before passing back the cigarette.

“Mmh. Every year we’d get all these calls from wives and girlfriends, planning their own valentine's day celebrations. Sometimes the men would call, but not nearly as often. The women would be dolled up, looking incredible, while the men would be plain and boring, wearing unironed disgusting clothes. They’d bring tacky gifts that the women would pretend to like, while the men would pretend to listen to what their partners were saying. It was sickening,” Sanji spat, flicking the cigarette still between his fingers. He placed it gently once again between yours as you continued to listen. 

“It was so disgraceful, so distasteful, such a mockery of what love should be. If I was lucky enough to call someone my partner, they wouldn’t have to wait for Valentine’s day to feel the warmth of my love,” Sanji said with a faraway look in his eyes. You placed the cigarette back in his fingers, though it was nearly out. The tips of your fingers brushed his own as he looked you in the eyes. 

“Thank you, dearest heart. If I had someone who loved me as I loved them, they would know with every fiber of their being that I cared for them, that I yearned for them, that I needed them like I need air and water. I wouldn’t wait for some paltry date on the calendar to tell me to celebrate my love,” Sanji stated, flipping his hair out of his face as he continued. It fell immediately back into place as it was before but Sanji didn’t seem to notice.

“I’d celebrate every morning, noon, and night, cherishing my love with my whole heart. I’d devote every moment to making sure their life was as incredible as they made my own, whether that be in gift giving, or sweet words, or even just a gentle touch at the end of a long day,” he stated, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“My partner would never have to look farther than my loving arms to find what they needed in the world, and if I couldn’t provide it I would step aside and let them find better. Valentine’s day? What a cruel joke. If I had someone love me as I loved them, every day would be as romantic as Valentine’s day,” Sanji concluded, stubbing out the cigarette. You weren’t quite sure what to say to Sanji’s impassioned speech but had a follow up question.

“Sanji, I - then why make the big production? The cakes, the presents, the food and champagne? Why all the work for a holiday you don’t like?” you asked, leaning closer to him. He gave you a soft smile and caressed your cheek with a thumb, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Because I don’t want you to feel unloved. Robin and Nami never had the luxury of having Valentines, they were…busy. And how could I exclude you, ma vie? No, all of you must have the perfect Valentine’s day celebration and who else could pull it off? Not some idiot Marimo that’s for sure,” he said, now pulling another cigarette from his pocket while he distracted himself with thoughts of Zoro.

“That’s so selfless, Sanji. Thank you, this really is the best Valentine’s day I’ve ever had,” you stammered, unsure what to say in the face of Sanji’s vulnerability.

“Then it was worth the effort,” Sanji replied with his true smile, the one that made his eyes close with how high his cheeks rose on his face. Watching him carefully, you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him down towards your own. Sanji’s stubble was rough on your palms as his blue eye opened wide. Holding his face between your smaller hands, you pecked him lightly on his full lips. You’d spent countless hours day-dreaming of this moment, of how it would happen, and how he would react.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sanji,” you whispered, letting go of his face. Sanji’s face turned bright red as his fingers rose to trace where your lips had been, his mouth slightly open. He wasn’t responding, just staring at you in silence as you fidgeted, gripping the hem of your skirt in your fists. You couldn’t look at him in the unbearable silence so you turned to go back down the ladder. Sanji caught your forearm gently before you could leave, pulling on it without force. As you turned to face him you saw his forehead was scrunched up, the swirly eyebrow you longed to trace with your finger tip tilted up in silent question.

“Mon cherie, you didn’t have to do that. I don’t need any kind of -” 

“I didn’t have to, I wanted to,” you said softly, reaching for his face like he had yours a few moments prior. He flinched back ever so slightly but allowed you to cup his cheek as you looked into his kind face, unguarded and vulnerable for a few moments longer before both of you had to return to reality and get back to party preparation.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time, Sanji. I’m sorry for not asking first, if you never want to talk about this again I, -” your voice was quiet but determined but you were cut off as Sanji leaned forward to return your kiss. One of his hands went to the back of your neck, holding the weight of your head in his splayed fingers, while the other wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards his lithe body. He kissed you tenderly, almost reverently, like you’d combust into smoke should he press too hard. His lips sought yours at every turn, gently coaxing you into opening your mouth for him so he could deepen the kiss. He moaned into your mouth when you nipped his lip gently with your teeth before returning the favor. He was breathing heavily as he began to press kisses into the column of your neck.

“Ma bichette, please, do me the honor of being my Valentine this year,” he mumbled into your skin as you tilted your head to the side to give him more access.

“I t-thought you didn’t li-ike Valentine’s day,” you squeaked as he mouthed over your jaw. His eyes looked up at your own as he smiled.

“You have shown me the error of my ways, mon tresor.”

[07-riley]

flowers (Simon Ghost Riley one shot | valentine's day special 2)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x female reader ★ masterlist here ★ valentine's day special 1

She didn’t want to make too much of it; she had never given much importance to relationships, barely having time for that because of her work. But she always thought that if she ever got the chance to go on a date, she simply wouldn't refuse to accept it.

That had happened two months ago. She'd had some sort of date with her lieutenant, then another, and then two more. If what they did could even be called dates—after all, they always ended up doing something that they could enjoy without leaving the base, sometimes it was just impossible to go anywhere. Surprisingly, she had enjoyed each one of those outings. It wasn't that he was intimidating or anything like that. In fact, more than once he had made her laugh during an awkward moment, and he always seemed focused on his work.

Now they had a sort of relationship that went a little beyond just being colleagues. Unlike everyone else on base, she'd stopped calling him "Lieutenant" or "Ghost" now he was Simon to her. She'd seen him without his mask more than once (though the first time had been by accident), and during one of their dates, they’d shared a kiss. But nothing more.

She'd tried hard not to think about Valentine’s Day and wonder if they'd do something together. She knew it wouldn't happen when she overheard the previous morning that Simon would be busy almost all day. If she could, she would have complained to Price, but they weren’t close enough for that kind of joking. He was her superior, after all, and she trusted him enough to ask for a day off when she was with cramps but nothing more.

She pushed the door to her room open, her back aching, just wanting to collapse onto the bed and rest. Her whole body hurt; she had increased her training three days ago, and now it felt like it was killing her. A sigh escaped her lips as she finally fell onto the bed, feeling her muscles relax and…

There was something different.

Her gaze fell on the desk in front of her bed. She usually used it to place clothes she would organize the next morning or papers she needed to review later. But she never used it as an actual desk; it was always covered with clutter, but not now. A part of the desk was cleared, and there was a bouquet of flowers resting on the old wood. It didn’t seem like it had been there long, maybe just a couple of hours.

The first thing she felt was panic. Someone had entered her room—the room she herself had locked when she left that morning, the room whose key only she had.

The flowers were beautiful, she wouldn't deny that. They were tulips, with a sunflower in the middle of the bouquet. Two of her favorite flowers. It could have been a coincidence, but it felt too much like more than just that. She needed to know who had left those flowers there—and more important, who had entered her room.

The first person she asked was Soap. He had been going back and forth all morning, but he was one of the few people still on base. Unfortunately for her, she got no answers. He claimed he hadn't seen anything, though she was almost certain he was lying.

She also got nothing when she questioned a girl in the bathroom whom she barely knew—who only stared at her as if she were insane.

She had no luck either when she casually chatted with one of the cooks or one of the nurses. There weren'’t many people around. Maybe they weren't the best options since they rarely left their work areas, but it didn't hurt to try.

By six in the evening, she slumped onto one of the cafeteria tables. She had spent the entire day running around, thinking she might find someone who had seen who entered her room and left the flowers, but she had gotten nothing. She simply sat there, staring at the sunflower as she twirled it between her fingers.

She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed the new presence beside her. Assuming it was Soap, she didn’t even turn around. After all, he had been the first to find out about her search and one of the few people she trusted the most. Judging by her expression, he probably already knew how fruitless her search had been.

"Did you like the flowers?"

That wasn’t Soap’s voice.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she turned in her seat—only to find none other than her lieutenant standing in front of her. He was still wearing the same uniform when she had seen him leave the base in, meaning he had probably just returned minutes ago.

Her first instinct was to ask how he knew about the flowers, thinking maybe he had seen something. But then she realized… He hadn’t seen anyone leaving her room. He had seen everything because he was the one who had put them there.

"It was you." It wasn’t a question.

Simon shifted slightly, and she could almost swear he had that smirk on his face, the one he always have when he was with her. She had deduced it was his way of showing he was comfortable around someone.

"It was me," he confirmed.

"Why?" She parted her lips, wanting to say something else, but nothing came out. She looked at the sunflower one last time before meeting Simon’s gaze again. She was too shocked—she hadn't even mentally prepared herself to receive anything that day. They had only been on a few dates. They weren’t anything—or at least, that's what she wanted to think. If he was seeing someone else, she would try not to feel hurt.

She didn’t want to admit it, but she had convinced herself that a few dates didn't mean anything, because if she saw him with someone else, she would be disappointed. If she was honest, the thought of date with anyone other than Simon hadn't even crossed her mind.

"I’m not really sure what people do on Valentine’s Day," he admitted. "But I remembered you mentioning your favorite flowers."

"That was on our first date." She tried her best not to look too surprised. Had he remembered every detail about her, or had it just stuck in his mind by accident?

"Do you want me to forget it?"

"No," she laughed. "I liked the flowers. Thank you."

She smiled, looking down at the sunflower in her hand. When she had woken up that morning, she hadn’t expected to receive anything for Valentine’s Day, and this had been a lovely surprise—even if, at first, it had sent her into a panic over someone entering her room.

"We’ll celebrate our Valentine’s on Tuesday."

Her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected anything else after the flowers. If she was honest, she had always thought that what she had with Simon was just a few dates for fun. Even after Soap told her that if Simon hadn't been interested in her, there wouldn't have even been a first date, she had refused to believe it. Maybe she just didn't want to be disappointed if things went wrong.

The flowers weren't all?

"Where are we going?"

"It’s a surprise."

"Is it a surprise, or do you just not have anything planned yet?" she teased.

Simon chuckled as he stood up from the table. He still had a few things to do before heading back to his room and and end his day.

"I've been planning it for over a week." He gave her a look through his mask, holding her gaze for a few seconds before turning to leave. She wanted to say something, to stop him, but no words came out. Besides, she didn't even know what to say. It wasn't like she wanted to argue about it.

For over a week.

She watched as Simon left, disappearing down the hallways. There was a strange feeling in her chest, one she couldn't describe.

On their first date, she had been incredibly nervous. She had called her sister, telling her she had a date with her lieutenant and was scared that it would just be a one-time thing. Her sister had told her that was almost impossible. After all, he was a soldier who didn’t have much free time—if he was taking her on a date, it was because he was genuinely interested.

Maybe she had been wrong and her sister was right. Maybe Simon was more serious about her than she had thought.

[slayrith]

valentine's day at the lodge

happy valentine's day lovelies! as a sweet treat, here's how i think the until dawn cast would do for you for valentine's day...

for my ladies..

Emily Davis

she would spoil you. Like you'd get some many designer gifts and fancy chocolates AND a floral arrangement personally done by a ton-notch florist

Emily also 100% gets you guys matching items- like we saw Matt and Emily's matching turtlenecks, this bitch wants everyone to know you guys are together.

Spent ages planning the perfect Valentine's day outing- istg she made an itinerary for the day and is constantly looking at her phone to make sure everything's perfect; if you guys steer off of it in any way she may get a little ruffled over it but honestly? she's so happy to spend the say with you she gets over it surprisingly fast- guess your reassuring smile calmed her down

Ashley Brown

she honestly spent so long crafting a thoughtful and sentimental gift it completely slipped her mind that you guys would actually have to do something together

but knowing her, she'd be more of a picnic date or night-in making a homemade meal or ordering in your favorite restaurant and watching sappy romance movies or whatnot

the kind of gift she would make would be an amalgamation of your favorite things- like she'd so buy a copy of your favorite book and learn how to take the pages and make them into paper roses for a bouquet if it didn't hurt her soul to tear a book

her card for you is so sweet- not only would it be handmade, Ashley writes the sweetest and most intimate love letters you could ever imagine like she puts her hobby of writing into good use

Jessica Riley

She had been thinking of spending Valentine's day with you since you two got together- or even since the last one.

"We should do this" "Oh- I should get you this!" "This sounds like such a fun date for Valentine's"

By the time the holiday rolls around, you really have no clue what she's planning for the day

Her gifts are more traditional with a signature Jess spin on it- roses and your favorite flowers in a gorgeous tulle wrapping with a lacy bow tied on it, an ultra-fluffy teddy bear covered in her perfume, and your favorite chocolates ever- the cutest card she spent months searching for on top

You two go to a dinner together and she can not stop taking pictures of you, the two of you, the food.. she's so sentimental and she wants to capture every moment you guys have together

Sam Giddings

She's more of a date person than a gift person, let's be honest

Like she would get you a gift- probably something you mentioned and she made a mental note after seeing your eyes light up- but she's way more of a quality-time person than gift-giving

Since she's more of an outdoorsy person, she'd be more prone to a picnic or going to a restaurant with an absolutely beautiful view- you and her underneath the stars is a dream for her, honestly

she for sure handmade her card, her signature art on it with a very sweet yet simple message- she's very thoughtful, but her actions speak louder than words

Hannah Washington

Valentine's Day is her favorite holiday, and she makes it obvious

As romantic as a dinner date would be, she's a homebody at heart- your date would be something like a night in baking or making a meal together and sifting through Josh's film collection to find some sappy yet artful romances

ALL of her gifts are handmade- even if she bought something, she always put her own spin on it, and she gets really shy when admitting that to you

Her favorite kind of gifts are baking you your favorite cookies or crafting an elaborate card specially made for you, and her note was so long she stuffed papers into the card and wrote "happy valentine's day" on the card itself\

Beth Washington

she's more traditional- roses, a box of fancy chocolates, and a sweet card

however, this woman takes you to a romantic brunch then finishes it off with a lovely dinner

she's very sweet but romantic stuff isn't her strongsuit so a lot of her efforts are in collaboration with Hannah

one of your gifts was your favorite cookies baked homemade by Beth and Hannah- which you find sweeter because of the time she took to make sure everything was perfect

for my fellas..

Mike Munroe

he has so much experience- he works with the basics

a beautiful bouquet of roses that are your favorite color/a color that reminds him of you, a well-picked box of chocolates, and a candle-lit dinner at a luxury restaurant that he definitely did not get a reservation for a month in advance

mike got you a lingerie set as a gag gift- "something for the both of us, you know? since it is a holiday for couples- just kidding.. I mean unless-"

let's just say it might have been put to use that night depending on how he was acting

Chris Hartley

let's be honest, his first valentine's day with you is his first valentine's day with anyone- so he makes sure he gets it perfect

chris definitely has a note in his phone with everything there is to know about you- your favorite flowers, food, restaurants, even your least favorites; he didn't want to mess anything up

Josh helped a lot with his planning- helping him plan a nice dinner, finding chris a good florist on his budget, etc

he's more the type to gift you something thoughtful, and more into more relaxed dates than anything- maybe making you a nice meal, or spending the night in playing video games or just spending time together

Matt Taylor

similar to mike, matt goes a more traditional route- but I feel matt is more chill

he'd take you to a restaurant he knows in his gut you'll like, even if you've never been before

he is so giddy- he spent so much time and thought planning this, he almost spoiled his surprise for you the week before, and you already had a feeling what he was giving you

his gift is very personal; i feel like he'd get you matching jewelry or something with his name on it- he likes claiming what's his, after all

Josh Washington

everyone thinks Josh is the type to lavish you in luxuries- but honestly? I think he's humble, and more of a "it's the thought that counts" sort of guy

like yes, he's gifted you some expensive gifts, but they were all things he knew you would like- not just something you'd appreciate because of the price tag

if anything, he's the kind of guy to set up a movie night in, or to make a scrapbook of all his favorite memories of you two

the most extreme he's gotten one year is a weekend away at the lodge with just the two of you

"sure, I could get you some $500 necklace, but a night with you is something I couldn't put a price tag on."

[thesimstree]

The perfect date in The Sims: a collection of ideas, lots, and CC content

Ready to make Valentine's Day truly special for your sims? In this article, we offer you a kit for the perfect date: unique ideas, beautiful lots, fitting mods, as well as poses and backdrops to capture this special day as beautifully as possible. Don't forget to share your stories in diaries on our service; we would love to read them!

Options for how to spend Valentine's Day are waiting for you below, but let's start with something universal: perfect poses and backgrounds for screenshots.

If your sims plan a date with additional romantic attributes like a bouquet of flowers, the poses from the couple posepack by bluefeelingblue are perfect for the role-play.

For other occasions, we suggest trying the Love Me Posepack by @ashlegacies. Just look at how beautiful it is!

In the background, you can place the LOVE Arch by @luuforyou – a neon arch of hearts that glows and decorates the photo. By the way, it'll surely come in handy at some love festival in a city park. 

And the last universal find is an incredible backdrop by @plumbaleena, Valentine's Day Backdrops. We wish you the most romantic photos :)

Now, let's move on to the dates themselves!

Butterfly garden

A true fairy tale where your sims can enjoy beauty and relax. Choose a picturesque park (for example, this incredibly beautiful one by Ac Sims) and place butterfly houses by Naunakht so they flutter around the sims, creating a magical atmosphere. Complete the picture with a tent by @mylittleponyoh, which will add romance and coziness with its lighting in the evening.

Cooking favorite childhood dishes together

A great opportunity to get to know your loved one better. And perhaps someone in the pair has never tried that dish! Create a romantic atmosphere and start cooking, just remember to do it with love. Candles (by @ravasheencc), champagne (by @somik-severinka), and a vinyl record player (by @myshunosun) can help set the mood. After dinner, sims can treat each other to a massage (by @littlemssam).

Date at the aquarium

Sims can walk among the aquariums, admiring the amazing sea creatures and colorful fish. It's not just relaxing but also a very romantic place where you can enjoy each other's company in peace. The underwater views will create a magical atmosphere, leaving plenty of pleasant memories. For this idea, we found two lots: The Aquarium by @rachelsim and Dream Aquarium by @yukihyou.

Getting couple tattoos

Getting matching tattoos is not only romantic but also incredibly fun! Imagine your sims taking a bold step to express their feelings. There are many options for cc-content with matching tattoos you can look for. For starters, check out the Valentine's Gift Couple Tattoo set by @pinksimz.

And since sims don't have to wait for their tattoos to heal, they can head straight to a heart-shaped bath by @leosims4, where bubble foam and champagne by @somik-severinka create the atmosphere of a true resort!

Joint dance class for pairs

If your couple needs a little more passion and synchronicity in their relationship, definitely make use of this idea! Learning tango together means sharing special moments full of tenderness and movements in the rhythm of the heart. The Ballroom Dance mod by @mercuryfoam can help.

Additionally, you can use a dance pose pack by @starrysimsie to capture all those romantic gazes in photos. This kind of date will surely make them fall in love all over again!

Recreate the first date

This is a touching way to relive magical moments and return to the beginning of a love story. Recreate all the details of that special day and add a twist: bring along some champagne (by Somik and Severinka) and chocolate-covered strawberries (by @tianasimstreehouse) to complete the perfect evening. Such moments not only refresh feelings but also provide tender memories for many years to come.

Old arcade games

Shared victories and funny moments will strengthen the bond between couples and provide plenty of reasons for laughter. Everyone can find entertainment to their liking with the help of two mods: Functional arcades by @wickedpixxel and Salle d’arcade by @kimikosoma. This date will become a bright memory, full of joy and smiles.

[borrelia]

reading up again abt how our local ecosystem is considered endangered and only 1-2% of the original habitat remains aughgh i gotta go SAVE THE BIODIVERSITY!!!!

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[dawnwriterimagines]

Innocents among you

Part Two to TRAITORS AMONG US

SIMON RILEY X FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 X FEM!READER

Summary: Your torture is over, but is it really? There is only the torment in your mind now. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the flowers at your hospital bed and the tormentors awaiting the relief of your forgiveness.

Part 3!!

Part 4

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

You flatlined twice, almost as soon as you were handed off to the medics.

Committing themselves to doing CPR before bringing in the defibrillator for an electric charge to your sudden cardiac arrest. "Clear!" They restarted your heart just outside the hallway of your cell, Simon held back by Price as your heart stopped again within the same minute and panic ensued. Johnny and Kyle hearing the news, rushing up towards the hall, their footsteps probably the echo that you held onto as your heart rate picked back up.

Clearly, you lived.

You didn't have the luxury of going comatose immediately after. As you would've preferred.

You'd awoken hours after the medical team carried you off to the infirmary. Still on edge, still plagued by discomfort and cold, despite the lights of the recovery facility and the nurses that paraded around you.

Morphine wears off in about 6 hours, so you were up wailing in agony within the same time. Clearly no one expected you up so soon, but you hadn't slept in days, at least not more than an hour. Jerking up involuntarily, hands all over you to keep you down and steady, you could hear a familiar doctor's attempt to calm you down. But, the blistering pain that radiated from every pore in your body was ringing so loud, a present noise that blocked everything out.

So, at first, you'd been terrified, attempting to clutch onto the first thing you'd woken up to. But, you couldn't move, at least not voluntarily.

With the damage to your spine for countless hours, days, and what you had discovered to be two fucking weeks of endless torture, you'd undergone three difference corrective surgeries that would 'possibly' fix the nerve and circulatory damage done to you. It had left you nearly completely immobile since your admission into the infirmary. The doctors were quite astonished that you were even alive...

The nurses were patient enough with your panicked state to slowly ease you out of your stupor. But, at times it wasn't easy, especially when you didn't even know where you were at first. Since you couldn't see...

You were blind for about four days. Everything a tinted red for a few more after you'd regained your sight.

Fevers plagued you for the week, skin that was raw and inflamed from the severe cold and constant dousing from the pipes, you couldn't move if you wanted to.

The first thing you'd been graced to see were the multiple arrangements of flowers, lilies, white tulips, hydrangeas, roses...typical assortments of regret and remorse.

"Can someone throw these away?" had been your first words.

The nurse who had been checking over your vitals looks over at the flowers, the were all over the desk, even on the floor lining the windows, once they ran out of space to put them. It was beautiful. But, she knew why. Everyone knew why. You were quite famous here in the infirmary, as you were in special unit. "Of course."

They were out within the day. The room bare once more.

And then you saw them outside your infirmary window. Just a glimpse. Around the time you were still getting your sight back.

Seeing them for the first time since everything made bile build up in your throat, a screaming fear that created a pulsing headache.

Kyle, Johnny, Price and...you didn't see Simon.

Price was...a statue. Not moving an inch. His hand against his mouth, covering up the aching distress anyone could see on his face.

Kyle was pacing, back and forth and back and forth. Making an offhanded comment at one of them every few seconds.

But, Johnny was talking, pointing spitefully at someone out of your view.

He was there too then. Simon.

Turning away from the window, you couldn't look at them anymore.

"Don't let them in," you breathe out to your doctor as she sets down a trayed mug on your sliding table as she sits you up to drink a hot cup of tea, which you had requested. "Any of them. Please." You were still so cold, you couldn't imagine dealing with any type of cold weather for a while after dealing with this.

She's confused a moment, before turning to the doorway, where she recalled seeing the four men waiting outside in the hallway. She's seen them just sitting there for days now, they wouldn't beg or argue to come in, they'd just wait. It's not like you were cleared for visitors yet anyway.

Every morning she clocked in for the job, there they were. Sitting there like abandoned children, awaiting the moment the door would open to be welcomed inside.

It was like they never left.

Of course she knew who they were to you. Word spreads fast on the base. Especially for a Task Force as 'famous' as they were around here.

Squeezing your shoulder, comfortingly. Feeling protective, your doctor spoke, "Of course," she slides the mug forward a bit, taking the teaspoon to stir once and lift it to toward your lips to sip. "Blow," she guided.

You did. And sipped.

And it was warmer than any blanket they'd wrapped you in.

---

Prior to being able to trudge around on your own, with the help of a crutch you'd been given to go to the bathroom by yourself finally, the nurses had sponged you down in bed. Your spinal surgeries led to you being at risk if they made efforts to remove you from your bed for anything more than a medical emergency.

Mostly, because you're terrified of the showerhead....and it's pathetic, but no one judges you for it as you opt for a sponge bath every time instead. Even if you're shaking as the water slides down your skin even now. The last thing you needed on top of all this was to develop aquaphobia.

Today was the first day you could do it on you own, limping your way to the bathroom with your crutch. The smell of bleach is much stronger in here, it stings your nose.

You stared at the metal stool left tucked at the side, walking around it as if it would pounce up and attack you, you try not to look at it. You'd been doing well without panic attacks for a few days now, just hold it together.

Taking a breath, you reach out to the handle for the spout, glancing up at the showerhead, before back down. Swallowing thickly when you begin to turn it before pausing, hearing the water rush up the pipe to spill out. Turning it back up just as quickly, shutting off the pipe, you inhale deeply, trembling now, hand up to the chilled tile to steady yourself.

You'll try again, you had to.

Drip...

Drip...

Unable to help yourself, the sudden rush of paranoia that runs through you is terrible, a hoarse cry leaves you. You shove yourself away from the shower stall, back ramming into the doorframe, catching yourself, and away from the showerhead as the water drips, slowly from the faucet.

Drip...

Drip...

As panic tightened its grip around your chest, your breaths quickly turned to short, sharp gasps. The room spinning, colors blurring into a dizzying whirlwind. You turn swiftly, nearly knocking yourself off your feet as the thudding of your own heart startles you, you can hear it in your ears, in your hands, in your feet.

You press a trembling hand to your chest, clawing over the area, trying to slow the frantic pace of your breathing, but it only seemed to escalate. The small room narrowing to a black hole of fear and suffocation, every gasp began to disorient you, turning lightheaded.

As tears welled in your eyes, you collapse against the side wall, sliding down to the tiled floor. Slamming your palm against your chest, once, twice, as hot tears leave streaks down your bruised face, you beg your lungs to expand and wait for your breathing to regulate.

Beginning to sob uncontrollably as you hit yourself in the chest again and again and again, waiting for the moment you found yourself able to breathe.

Why did this have to happen?

You remember the violent swing of the baton against your face, the sting it leaves afterwards, the immediate spotting of bruises forming. The memory startles you, receding back into yourself, back to that day.

"It wasn't me..." you cried loudly, in the empty room. It echoes against the tiles.

Simon wrapping his hands around your neck, staring you down as he squeezed, maliciously. You couldn't breathe as your lover shook with the strength he uses to hold himself back from taking your life.

"I'm sorry," you hiccupped. "I'm--I'm sorry," you're not sure when you crawled yourself into the corner, the lights of the bathroom flickering off dimly from your lack of movement. As you're drowned in darkness, the water dripping from the spout, the cold tile against your skin, it's too much. You scramble upwards, running out of the bathroom.

The automatic lights flicker back on inside, but you're too in your head to notice.

Stumbling down to your knees as you feel the rip of a ruined stitching tearing along your side. "Ah!" comes your startled cry. Making it to the side of your hospital bed, you fist your hand through your sheets, unable to stand yourself up.

Taking pained breaths against the sterile sheets, you bury your head in them, cursing whatever luck you thought you had in this life.

They were your family...

All you had for so many years...

As your breathing slows to distraught, agonized huffs of air, sniffling to yourself as you catch sight of your face in the metal frame of your hospital bed. The dark purple bruises beneath your eyes as the swelling gradually went down, the still bloodshot left eye of yours, the twelve stitches on the left side of your face. So gruesome you knew it would scar you for life, a permanent reminder on your fucking face.

Anger bubbled up inside you at the sight of it. At the memory that would always follow when you'd look at it.

Anger that you hadn't been able to properly feel until now.

Anger that you feared to have until today.

"Are you alright?" the sound of his voice makes you visible tense.

Simon.

He's here.

You don't turn to face him, if you did, you'd revert back to the person you were cowering into moments ago. "The door was open...I just--" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "Lemme help you up."

Hearing his footsteps suddenly moving closer, you speak fast. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" you scream over your shoulder, tucking yourself further away from him. "Do NOT move."

He stops in his tracks. You catch the sight of him in the metal framing of the bed, he's a blur in the metal, but you notice his mask is gone, he's Simon Riley now, not Ghost as he appeared to you in the interrogation cell.

"Don't you dare get any closer," you spat.

"I heard you," he spoke, carefully. Mouth opening and closing, before speaking again. "But, you don't have to be stubborn. If you stay there any longer you could tear your stitches."

"Whose fault is that?"

Simon shifts his stance on his feet, waits a second. "I know. And I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. What we all did to you," he says, quietly. "The intel we discovered...or that was forged, it came from a source we've used a dozen times, (Y/n), we thought it was true. It had to be. We've never been misled before."

"So..." your nails bite into your skin, you make an amused sound, biting down on your lip for a moment, till it hurt. " That's what you came here to say, huh? What you waited days to--. Is this you justifying--"

"No, (y/n), that's not--"

"--why you tortured me, strangled me, stripped me, in that fucking cell, Simon?"

"We had to believe it, at the time..."

"Was I not a trusted source?" you argued. "Had I not proven more than a thousand times that you could trust me? I've fought next to you, laid in your bed, given you my love, my trust, I--" you shook with rage at the time and energy wasted on time family, this relationship, if the end goal was always meant to just be this.. "I thought that was at least half the reason you decided to marry me..." at the mention of your relationship, you could see the way Simon nearly lost his balance, hands coming up to run along his face. "You told me you would kill me in that room..."

"I was just talking, I wouldn't have--" his voice cracks as he whispers, trying to convince.

"When you left, I thought you'd come back to kill me any minute, or Price, to spare you. I waited to die for two days, terrified out of my mind. I wondered about heaven, not if I'd make it... but what it'd be like, what I'd be missing out on," you thought back to your time in that cell, a haunted expression Simon couldn't see. "While you all got a good nights rest, woke up for some bacon and eggs, and listened to the warden tell you that your prisoner was framed...for a crime you'd already punished her for..." you stuttered on your breathing, tears flowing silently.

Simon inhales deeply. "I could never expect you to forgive me. I-I had taken my hurt out on you, I thought you did it, I was so sure. I couldn't hear what you were saying, I just could see the evidence, and I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love. I'm truly--" he gets to his knees behind you.

"Get up."

"I can never tell you how sorry I am---"

"Simon."

"I never should've done this to you. If I could ever--" his voice rising with distressed breaths, you didn't have to look at him to see his face a mess of sorrow, tears that would mix into the stubble on his face.

"Simon!"

"--make it up to you. If you could ever find it in your to forgive me, (y/n). I'll spend the rest of my life--" he gets closer, reaching out.

Whipping around, stiffening completely as you feel the graze of his fingers across your skin, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" you shove your back against your bedding, your hand swinging and flying across his face. His head snapping to the side as he pauses, freezing up where he kneels, having completely forgotten your request to stay put. "What's the matter with you! Even now? Even now, you can't just listen to this one thing?!"

"I-I'm sorry..." He looks at you, finally seeing your face clearly and up close since it all happened. Finally he can see the bruises along your face, the blood that fills your eye, the dark bruise still around your neck.

Seeing him. He looks rough. Honestly, he looks terrible. His hair shaggy and falling over his eye. Dark circles with bags under them. Pale, and thinner than he should be.

His jaw clenches with guilt and he averts his eyes, you continue. "How could I forgive you for this?" you stare at him, "I could forgive you, if you hadn't let them chain me up like an animal. If you hadn't watched them drown me for hours, beat me black and blue and left me screaming for days. I could forgive you if you had just believed me even for a moment." you feign thoughtfulness. "How about you look at my face. My wrists. My legs! MY FUCKING SPINE, SIMON!"

"Nothing I can say or do, will ever make any of it ok, I know that. And I can't ask for you to ever forgive--"

"What could I possible owe you in this life, that makes you think I'd even think about forgiving any of you for the things you did to me?" you gritted out, angrily.

Simon's head drops, a slow, shuttering sigh leaves him. "I'll never stop trying to make this right. Never."

"...Get out, Simon."

"I'm sorry."

"Simon."

"I'm so sorry..." he reaches out again.

"Ghost."

He's silent this time, fingers tensing, out in mid air.

"I never wanna see you again."

"I love you, (Y/n)," he confessed, eyes feral and wide. Pulling at the ends of your slip.

"I don't want to hear that, Ghost," kicking away from him. "Stop it."

"I couldn't stop even as it happened--"

"Shut up. And get out," shaking as you sneered at his desperate attempts. "It's over, Ghost."

"And I took it on you. It hurt so much, I couldn't think," Simon's face twisted with agony and remorse. "I'm sorry!"

He was making you lose your goddamn mind, you broke. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" screaming at one another as overwhelming tears escaped your eyes.

---

It's quiet in your hospital room, it's empty now, the door closed this time.

The door knob turns and opens again a moment later. "Oh no, Ms. (L/n)!" luckily it was your assigned nurse, who takes your arm and fixes it around her shoulder before helping haul yourself up to your feet. "What're you doing on the floor? There's a call button for a reason," she scolds as you sit on the edge of your bed.

You're quiet.

Alarmingly so for your nurse, who notices the pulled stitching that creates a line of blood down your side. "If this is about what happened to you..." the nurse started, speaking carefully, pulling a lining of gauze from the side to press to your skin. You don't even wince at the pressure, even when she begins to clean and replace the broken stitch. "Don't let it break you. Not even further than this experience already has..." she says, while through the last stitch and prepping a bandage.

"I've been broken long before this," you whispered, looking towards the afternoon sun shining through your window. "This. This didn't break me, no," you admitted, before glancing up with glossy eyes, rage hidden beneath a profound look of sadness. "It destroyed me."

Her hand pauses at your side, your words startling, turning to see the tear that slips down your cheek. Knowing now how deep your scars were from this, before gently sliding the last of the bandage across your skin. "Do not think you are irreparable. That time can't heal your wounds."

"But, there's always reminders," touching the stitches on your cheek, "some things can't be forgiven."

"I never said to forgive..." the nurse interjected. "If you could, after all this, you're stronger than any woman that could be named."

You snicker at that, humming soundly. "That's an interesting thought. I guess I'm one of the weaker ones then."

"And yet, still the strongest I've ever met," she finishes. Pats your cheek, "click the button next time. Save us both the heart attack."

"Noted," you assured.

As she's prepping to leave for her rounds, you open your mouth, once, twice, before clearing it. "Is it possible, someone could help me out--the water..."

"Of course," the nurse says, quickly. "Don't worry, I understand. I'll get everything set for you."

As she walks away, you breathing out your appreciation, you take a long inhale, swallowing down the heaviness in your chest.

part 3 OUT NOW!!

and if you'd like to support a fanfic hoe in need...would you Buy me a Coffee?

Tag List:

@m3ntally-unstable @dreamsarenicer @ttsbaby01 @theweirdgeninistuff @shelbycillian @azxulaa @kthehoeforfictionalmen @amusling @v1x3n @nobodycanknoww @thesinsoflust @asexualbuthorny @poisonedsultana @blackhawkfanatic @character---obsessed @yunggoblin @teenagellamaangel @hanniebanggi @nym-phos @gastonlover9000 @lyssa-211 @doodle-cat16 @haven-1307 @kneelforloki @delphiakira @just-going-through-the-motions

[sleep-0-deprived]

Yandere CEO who is serious and strict but becomes a real puppy at the reader's feet, he gives everything the reader wants and kneels before him asking to be able to touch and give pleasure to the reader.

Yandere CEO x male reader imagines~! ૮꒰ྀི ⸝⸝․․⸝⸝ ྀི꒱ა

A/N (I did the Yandere as a sub top and I thought of the Yandere being mid forties while reader being late twenties because I thought it fit best anon!) <33

Just imagining Yandere CEO being a complete heartless man to the world, old and cold as they say. Until he seen your resume running across his desk and if you told him of love at first sight he would scoff at you and kick you out but oh my, when he seen the small picture of you next to your resume he didn’t even care to read it because this man was going to have you. The only words he could think of was “he must’ve been crafted by the gods, I bet Adonis himself spent his life carving those lips” shivers went through him dialing your number trying to get a interview with you.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who hires you at first for your pretty face making you his assistant putting you a desk in his office wanting all eight hours of your days to be spent close as he can get to you, being soft and sweet for you unlike his mean and cold demeanor with the rest of his employees. he’d glance over at you typing something on your computer quietly asking “are you alright? Did you need a break, your hands aren’t sore are they?….i can get you into a nice spa if you’d like. I don’t want my best employee burnt out”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who gets you gifts on the daily nearly pouting if you tell him not to, all he wants is for you to cling to him! He’d beg and plead asking you to let him suck you off whispering in your ear “let me help you out, boy?…I wanna ease you up a bit, you deserve the best so just let me give it to you” he’d mumble getting on his knees and massaging your thighs nice and gentle getting your cock out of your slacks worshipping it nuzzling his face into it peppering your angry tip with wet kisses.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who sends you flowers takes you on fancy trips. Sending you to Rome with him when he goes to sort out business you’re sitting somewhere in a fancy restaurant holding his black card telling you “buy anything you want, I wanna spoil you baby..” and by the time he gets back to your five star hotel room all he asks os for all your affection groaning into your ears holding you by the waist bucking and thrusting his hips up into you from beneath murmuring on and on rambling having you on his cock sending shivers through him “oh you’re so perfect~ pretty little thing~ hng oh fuck moan a little louder you sound angelic like that—“ he’d whimper spilling into you nibbling on your shoulder softly.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who asks you all sweetly if he can have you cock warm him while he manages files, pleading just wanting to please you wanting to have you all sprawled out like a happy cat with his chubby tip pressing and massaging your walls just bullying your prostate while he tugs at your cock like its glass having you orgasming more times than you can count pleasing you like it’s his life’s mission “c’mon baby boy, one more for me? I know you can push it out shhh doin perfect there’s a good boy”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who loves your chest, worshipping them as his holy grail sucking at hurrying his fave in your pretty s/c pecks. Nibbling at your nipples pressing little kisses to your peaks using his hands to massage them while he rotates back and forth making sure each one gets the perfect amount of attention “they are so beautiful sweetheart, god your skin tastes so divine” it was like sex polling with your skin covered in the finest nectar for him driving him insane hazily looking up at you with complete and utter infatuation.

[eraenaa]

Bittersweet

Inspired by the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier

Feyd- Rautha x Lady Reader Tag List

Summary: As the Na-Baron's proposed bride, you were simply too sweet for him and his bitter being. You were too innocent and pure to be tainted by the blood-stained hands of the Harkonnen heir.

Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, Mature, 18+, P in V sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Overstimulation, ¿Slight Rejection?, ¿Softer Feyd-Rauth?, Not Proofread

Word Count: 4,607

They say you were of great beauty and good breading, all things needed in a wife. Feyd-Rautha never sought out a love match; all he needed was a wife whose womb was suitable for taking his seed and producing his heirs. He saw meeting you as a dire chore, having to travel to your planet and seek out and court the girl whose task could be reduced to a simple broodmare. Feyd-Rautha grimaced at the bright sun on your home planet, a planet that resembled ancient Earth before it ultimately met its demise. Your father, the duke, stood with his duchess to greet and welcome him. He turned to your mother, a small fake smile on her lips as she was trying hard not to let her distaste show as she saw the man who they planned to marry her daughter too. Sickly pale and hairless, far from the standard of beauty your planet had. 

“Na-Baron, welcome; we hope your journey was well,” your father greeted. The Na-Baron let him continue on with pleasantries as his eyes searched for you, whom he was tasked to court and marry. He wished to know if you were truly as beautiful as all had praised you. He wanted to deduce if you were somewhat worthy of all of this trouble he must go through. “Come, let us escort you inside, my lord. My daughter waits for you there,” He heard the duke say, and the Na-Baron felt annoyance at your self-importance, not even bothering to greet him as he had landed, having him be the one to come to you. He somewhat made up his mind that you were a spoiled child of one of the great houses. Covered in frills and frivolity. That whatever beauty they talked about and praised you for was just a cover to hide the fact that you were a tempestuous, spoiled brat who would certainly be a difficult wife for any lord. 

Feyd-Rautha hid his confusion and annoyance as he was led to a place surrounded by greenery and colors that stung his eyes foe be was used to the bleakness and darkness of his home. “My sweet,” The Na-Baron heard your father call, and that is when he finally noticed you. Your back was turned from him, hair that he had none cascaded down your back and reached your waist that was cinched inside the bodice of your color-filled gown. Feed clenched his jaw and felt his breathing stutter as you finally turned your direction to him. Turning to the call of your father with your bright eyes searching for his frame and pink lips parted, you had a flower in your hand, your fingers rolling the delicate stem. 

“Na-Baron, may I present you, my daughter,” Your father said and urged you to step closer. You licked your lips and curtsied lowly before the heir of house Harkonnen and your possible husband. “Welcome, Na-Baron,” You said lowly. Feyd was never one to be phased, especially not stunned, but that was the precise state you had placed him in. He thought the praises they gave of your beauty and nature was an exaggeration— they talked about you as if you were a propaganda, a savior, a goddess of beauty. And now, the heir of House Harkonnen understood their words and saw they spoke truth in every syllable uttered. 

You grew more nervous with each moment the Na-Baron did not reply to your greeting. You felt rather unnerved with each passing moment he stared you down with his blue eyes, his plump yet pale lips parted as he assessed your frame. You swallowed thickly and turned to your father for some sort of comfort, but he, too, did not know how to take the Na-Baron’s silence. “My lady,” the Na-Baron finally rasped out, your skin glowing with gooseflesh at how his voice sounded— it was a sound you had not heard before, something different and interesting. All together, the Na-Baron was different and interesting. “I shall leave you two to talk and get to know each other better,” Your father said, and you willed your heart to calm as the intense stare of the Na-Baron was undoing your composure. 

“How… how are your travels, my lord?” You asked after a pause of silence, the Na-Baron wanted to roll his eyes as you had the same trite question as your father. However, he still replied. When there was silence after his answer, he watched you fiddle with your fingers and unconsciously bite your lip as you thought of another topic of conversation. “Would you like a tour of the castle, Na-Baron?” You asked, and though Feyd had little to no interest in architecture and was actually quite tired from his travels, he still felt himself nod and walked beside you as you guided him through your home. 

Feed listened to your sweet voice that sounded of harmonious melodies. Telling him of the history of your house and the decor the castle keeps. Noticing how your voice would grow slightly higher when you spoke of something that was of much interest to you. He also noticed how all who passed the two of you would bow in respect and you would offer them your sweet smile with a wave of your hand or a greeting on your lips. It should annoy him that when stood next to you, his imposing and intimidating demeanor seemed to be outshined by your charming and pleasing self. 

You two paused by a mirror, a painting atop of it, which you explained the meaning of in great detail. Feyd-Rautha caught your reflection, the two of you of stark difference. There was quite literally an aura of lightness exuding from you, the sweetness in your voice, the innocence and naivety in your eyes so entirely different against the darkness he exudes, the black that stained and hardened him. Feyd-Rauth could not take his dark eyes from your lips, the way they moved as you spoke, how you would lick them when you paused from speaking, giving them an irresistible sheen and making them look more pink and evermore kissable. 

The Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha never had the urgent desire to kiss anyone before. Yes, he had his darlings and concubines, but ever since he acquired them, he had never once kissed them first. When they started to grow slightly comfortable around him, they would kiss his lips, eager to make him kiss them back, but he never did. He did not find any sort of pleasure in kissing them. But with you… just by the look of your lips, all he wanted to do was grab your flushed cheeks and feel your mouth against his. “My lord?” You called as you had noticed that the Na-Baron was staring far off into the mirror, unresponsive to your previous calls. “Na-Baron?” You asked and gently took hold of his arm to asses if he was truly well. 

Feud felt his whole body tingle as you placed your touch atop his armor-clad arm, a concerned look on your face that he had never been the receiver of. “Are you well, my lord?” You asked with a concerned tilt of your head. “Y-Yes,” He stuttered, what had you done to him? The ferocious and fearsome fighter that he was now far gone as you blessed him with your gentle touch. “I apologize; I may have droned on for too long… I shall escort you to your chambers so you may find rest,” You said with slight embarrassment. Lowering your gaze to the floor and removing your hand from his arm. Feyd did not know how to perceive you… you were demure yet somehow confident. You were genuine, yet not at all of you could be read and deciphered by him. 

The Na-Baron once again followed you as you led him to the guest wing of the keep. His eyes were steadily at your frame, the way your hair swayed and bounced at every step you took. How you left behind a trail of your scent in the corridors, the Na-Baron greedily inhaled it and felt himself turn warm with a further push to his desires. As you had led him to his chambers to let him rest, you curtsied before him once more, the Na-Baron catching the most tempting view of your bosom. His mind and body were screaming at him to pull you into the chambers and have his way with you. To show you new dimensions of pleasures and ruin that he was certain you had never had before. But the Na-Barom did the genteel thing to do and gave a bow before watching you walk away and finally retire to his own chambers to rest. 

When the next morning came, the Na-Baron found you in the gardens once more. You kneeling by a structure that houses water with a statue in the middle of it. He curiously leaned forward to inspect what you were doing. He watched as your fingers pushed floating flowers, and a small smile grazed your face. He stepped closer, announcing his presence in the reflection of the water. He expected you to grow startled; he was waiting for the fear to come to your eyes, but he was taken aback as you turned to him with a pretty smile upon your lips. The Na-Baron swallowed thickly as he felt his heart stutter at your smile. He never thought he had one— a heart, that is. But now it announced itself greatly as it throbbed loudly in his chest when you stood and stepped closer to him. 

“I hope you had a good night’s rest, Na-Baron,” you said in your genuine tone. “I—I did,” Feyd clenched his jaw; he was stuttering again. What had you done to him? How could you have dismantled and discombobulated him with just a smile and your honey voice? “Would you care to join us to break our fast?” You asked and glanced toward the direction of the laid-out feast for the morning. The Na-baron gave a curt nod, and you led him towards the table where your parents were approaching. 

Feyd gave them a nod as they greeted him whilst assisting you into your seat. He was truly doing the most here, being obliging to you and your kin just so the courtship would be a success and he’ll finally gain a wife and a womb. Feyd listened in to the chatter between you and your parents; you were truly quite talkative. If it were anyone else, he would have grown annoyed with the incessant blabbing that he would cut off their tongue. But somehow, with you, he did not mind it. He actually found it endearing, and he wouldn’t mind for his future days to be filled with your voice. Feyd watched as you filled his cup with a dark, steaming substance. “Would you like sugar and cream, Na-Baron?” You asked and Feyd eyed curiously the liquid in his cup. He did not even know what it was, and you were offering him other substances to put on it? He declined and raised the cup to his lips. Surprised at how he quickly grew fond of the bitter, dark liquid. He watched as you added three cubes of sugar and a dollop of cream to your own cup, altering the bitterness the Na-Baron relished in. 

When the meal ended, you half expected that the Na-Baron would disappear with your father and discuss business; you were surprised that he was once again by your side. “Shall we continue on with the tour?” He asked, watching as you slightly frown. “Are you certain, my lord? I… I was afraid I had bored you yesterday with me droning on about the histories,” You say and feel your stomach fill with butterflies as the lord offers his arm for you to take. “No, I found it quite… educational,” He said and oddly felt his cold blood run warm at the smile that bloomed on your lips. You were quick to oblige his request, and his ears were filled with the soothing melody that was your voice. 

Though your voice and presence were soothing, there was a pestering feeling inside the Na-Baron. With every moment you kept your arm on him, your smile pointed towards him, and your innocent eyes looking up at him, he felt entirely guilty—guilty and torn. Were you truly the one he was meant to marry? You? So pure and innocent, a pretty little flower that would wilt under the dark, harsh sun of Geidi Prime and its heir. He could not take it upon himself to be the one to ruin you— he could not be the bitterness that seeps into your sweetness. 

As he sat across from you during dinner, a glass of bitter liquor in his hands, he had made up his mind. He could not be so cruel to be with you— you had turned his stony being soft for you and you alone. He wanted you, yes. Greatly so. With every moment spent in your presence, all he wanted to do was to take you and make every single inch of you his, but he placed great restraint upon himself as he could not tarnish your innocence. Perhaps in a few years, when the naivety of youth is gone in your eyes, and the sweetness in you has finally been diluted. Just not now.  

Feyd knew he should keep his distance, but he humored himself and escorted you to your chambers. “Good night, my lord,” You said, peering up at him. As always, he was silent. In others, you would find their silence unsettling and off-putting but with the Na-Baron, you found peace in his silence. Serenity, no matter the warnings your mother repeated at how violent and harsh Harkonnens were. There was something about his difference that attracted you greatly, which horrified your mother when you admitted to her that you developed a liking towards the young lord and how you would not be opposed to that if a match was struck between the two of you. 

You watched as his lips parted, and his dark blue eyes would trail between your orbs and your lips. You were hesitant as to where the scene would lead; you did not know if you should disappear into your chambers or stay rooted in your spot and wait for what would transpire between you and the Na-Baron. A long stretch of silence came, and you finally decided to move, a tad embarrassed as you had hoped that he would lean in closer and possibly kiss you… you have had the thought countless of time today. You let out a breath and turned away but ultimately were pulled toward Feyd-Rautha’s direction and finally felt his plush lips against yours. You tasted the bitterness of the brandy he had during dinner along with the cool taste of him… you feel cold hands cradle your cheek and the back of your head to keep you and your lips steady against his.

Feyd was proven correct at just how sweet you were. You were tooth-achingly sweet, inside and out. He pulled you closer and licked your bottom lip, expecting resistance, that your sensibilities would return pulled away. But you only let out a quiet moan and let him snake his tongue in. Feyd Rautha felt himself strain harder against his trousers, his hand that cupped your cheek trailed lower to your neck then down to your bosom. You gasped and pulled away, surprised by the immediate action. Feyd was dismayed himself as he gambled too much. He should not have dared to be so bold and quick to show all of his desires. “My lord, I…” you say in surprise, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Eyes were flashing with a warning but deeper desire behind it. You breathed heavily as the Na-Baron backed away and stomped off, retiring to your room confused and filled with need. 

The following morning came, and Feyd’s mind was made. He could not succumb to his desires and ruin you further. He was selfish, and his mind was muddled with want when he dared to kiss you and feel you against him. He knew if he spent another moment in your presence, his control would falter, and he would finally take what he had desired the moment he saw you in the gardens. “We respect your decision, my lord, however unfortunate it is,” Your father spoke as the Na-Baron stood in his study. The sun had barely risen, and the Na-Baron was quick to speak with his host and bid goodbye. “The treaties shall still take place, but a marriage is no longer required, my lord.” The Na-Baron stated, giving the agreement as a consolation for your planet. He watched as your father nodded his head. “I shall call on my daughter for the two of you to bid good bye,” Feyd wanted to protest, cowardly as he had hoped to leave your planet without another glance at you because it would make everything all the more harder. 

You frowned as your father broke the news to you and your mother. You turned to the woman who birthed you and saw the relief in her eyes, urging you to say your goodbyes so the Harkonnen heir could finally leave. You chewed on your lip as you could conclude by the abrupt departure and change of mind of the Na-Baron. You entered your father’s study, and he quickly left to give the two of you privacy. 

You stood by the wooden door, head hung low, and could not take it upon yourself to look at the man you had hoped to be your husband. “Goodbye, my lord, I… I hope you enjoyed your stay,” you said lowly, and Feyd clenched his jaw as he heard the hint of melancholy in your voice—melancholy that he was the reason for. “I have. Thank you for your hospitality, my lady,” He said and felt his body being pulled closer to you. A pull that he himself could not hinder. He stood before you and took your chin between his rough fingers, urging you to look up at him. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, guessing your startled state the other night is what had led him to the decision. If not that, it was because you were not as chaste as he may have wanted for a wife— that you were ever so enthusiastic to kiss him and let him hold you. Perhaps he thought you untamed or promiscuous which is the reason for his sudden departure. You licked your lips as he made no reply; you shielded your gaze and backed away, his hold on your chin gone. “My lord, if this is about last night, I—“ Feyd clenched his jaw as his mind made him remember the way your lips danced with each other, the way it felt to hold your soft frame against his. “It is not.” He gritted, and you immediately stopped speaking, sensing aggravation in his tone. 

“Then, may I ask what is the reason?” You asked, wanting closure for the disappointment. You listened in to his strained breathing, your eyes catching the way his fists clenched along with his jaw. “I cannot marry you… I cannot be the one to ruin you,” He whispered the last part, his rasping voice struggling to utter the words. You tilted your head in confusion, “What? I do not understand, my lord,” You said and Feyd took in a harsh breath. “You are too pure— too sweet for me. You are not suited to be in the harshness of Geidi Prime let alone be a leader to it.” He said harshly, guilt coming to him as you stared at him with slight fear and offense. “You are too innocent and… and good for someone like me; this is for the best, my lady.” 

You frowned at his words, “You cannot think me to be so delicate,” You defended yourself. The Na-Baron scoffed and shook his head, “You are delicate. You are like those flowers you are greatly fond of— just one wrong thing, and you’ll wilt. You will not wither away in my hands,” He stated, and you felt your lips twitch at how he compared you to flowers. “Is that it? You think I’m weak and too kind?” You asked and observed the way the Na-Baron nodded. “Then I am the perfect match for you, do you not think?” You said, stepping closer. 

Feyd-Rautha was at a loss for words. “If I am weak�� I would need someone strong to protect me… someone who is known to be the most skillful warrior in the universe… someone like you,” You whispered and dared to take hold of his cold hand. The Na-Baron felt his heart announce its existence once more, loudly thrashing inside his chest. Your scent invades his senses and makes his knees weak. His gaze turned from looking into your enchanting eyes and then to your luscious lips. “If I am too kind, then I would need someone fearsome so people would not take advantage of me and my good nature… I would need someone ruthless as they say you are,” You whispered, pressing your bodies closer, making him see that you, too, desired him. You feel his length straining against his trousers and perfectly settle upon your stomach, your cheeks going flush at the look of great wanting in the dark eyes of the Na-Baron. 

“If I am too sweet… then I need someone bitter to balance me… I need someone like you, my lord. I want you.” You whispered, slowly going to the tip of your toes to indicate you wished for the kiss. The Na-Baron got the hint and smashed your lips. Your lips fervently danced against each other, the Na-Baron kissing you as if you were the air he needed in his lungs. “You want me?” He breathed as you both parted for air. “I do, Na-Baron.” You said. Truth in your tone. You feel wetness pool between your legs at the growl that left his throat, his lips meeting yours once more. You guided his hand to cup your bosom, just as he had wished to do so the night before. You moaned against his lips as he kneaded your chest through the soft bodice of your gown. 

You feel him guide you to your father’s desk. Perching you upon the stable wooden table and placing himself between your parted legs. Your breathing heaved as his lips were placed on your neck, the Na-Baron biting your flesh and soothing it with his tongue. You turned your head to the ceiling as you felt him hike up your gown, his cold hands leaving fiery heat with each touch. “Say it again,” Feyd demanded as his hands squeezed the plump flesh of your thighs, the heat from your core radiating and calling for him. “I want you, Feyd… I need you, please,” You pleaded and placed your lips to kiss his neck, soft lips kissing his pale flesh, teasing the ball on his throat. 

Your eyes widened as the Na-Baron pulled away, watching in shock as he went to his knees and placed his strong hold on both of your thighs, urging them to part further so his lips could be met with your cunt. You gasped as you felt him push aside your small clothes and lick your slit with his talented tongue. “So fucking sweet,” he groaned and buried his head in your needing cunt. You bit down hard at your lip as the moans you wanted to spew would surely be heard by those who stood and passed outside. “My lord,” You cried as you felt him sucking upon your pearl and his cold finger teasing your entrance. “Feyd… please!” You pleaded as you wanted to feel more. The Na-Baron hummed and obliged your request, placing a finger in your tight cunt. You hear him spew out fouled words and praises, amazed as he watches your wet cunt squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You take my fingers so well, my sweet… now let us see how you’ll manage when it is my cock.” You whimpered as he abruptly stole his pleasuring fingers away as you were on the verge of climax.  

Your eyes were hooded with lust as you watched the Na-Baron greedily suck your essence from his fingers. You felt the urge to close your parted legs to seek out friction at the way he undid his trousers and set his manhood free. Your lips parted as you saw the whole of him, throbbing and pink… the head of his length releasing sheer grayish beads that indicated how much he wanted you. Feyd growled at how shamelessly you looked upon his length, want, and lust, the only thing evident in your eyes. He smashed your lips once more and positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock gliding between your glistening folds. He pushed his way in, and he heard your sharp intake of breath, and whimpers of pain quickly followed. “This what you wanted…” Feyd gritted. A thin sheen of sweat all over his body at how you clenched tightly around him. “Yes, this is what I want.” You said, trying to prove to him that you were not as delicate as he had made you out to be. 

It took a moment before he was fully sheathed inside you. Both of you already panting. When Feyd slowly moved, he watched as your face contorted in pain, kissing away the tears that fell from your eyes as he took away your innocence. Feyd hissed as you clenched around him, finally feeling pleasure, your mouth spewing out sweet moans and calls of his name. “Look at you… my sweet, little wife, so pleasured by my cock,” The tears of pain turned to pleasure as you feel your peak quickly building up again. Feyd claimed your lips and bit down harshly to draw blood, curious to see if even your blood was as sweet as your being; it was. You moaned against his lips as your peak found you, your wetness doubling along with your sensitivity, but that didn't phase the Na-Baron.  He only continued to pound at you at a pace that would surely leave you unable to walk and sore for days to come. 

“Feyd, please…” You pleaded for something you did not know. All you knew was you were about to come once more, ready to cry out the name of the man who provided you with such blinding pleasure. The Na-Baron could usually last for hours, but with the way you clenched around him and how you sweetly moaned and called for his name, it was a miracle that Feyd had not spilled his seed the moment he pushed the head of his cock inside you. “Will you come again, my sweet? Will you come around my cock again?” Feyd hummed as his thumb circled the pearl in your cunt, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

“Yes…yes— oh yes!” You cried as you came, clamping around the Na-Baron’s length so tightly that he, too, joined you in your climax. His dark seed filling you and taking root. You two breathed heavily, Feyd hunching over you, who was perched upon your father’s desk. “Still too sweet and pure for you?” You asked in between breaths, watching as Feyd-Rautha wickedly smirked as his bitterness seeped into you and how his hands had tainted you. Perhaps he did need sweetness in his bitter life.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Burgeon

Logan Howlett x Reader Sex Pollen

Summary: Reader works in the science lab at the mutant academy. Trying to grow a new plant from a mutated seed they had found. When the bloom puffs a cloud into her and Logan’s face they both begin feeling strange.

CW: oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, biting, p in v, creampie

a/n: sorry this took so long to write I was depressed :D also surprise its today

~~~

You rested your head on your hands as you watched the plant in front of you slowly yet rapidly bloom a gorgeous, wine red bud. The way the flower held itself closed mesmerized you. How small bumps decorated the stem and the leaves along it were a dark purple color.

Logan, a.k.a. The Wolverine stood next to you. Piddling with one of the enclosed flora that was under surveillance. Not all that interested in the details of your work, but enjoying spending time with you. Especially when the big blue fur ball was not around to distract you. Dusk was approaching as it shined through the greenhouse windows. A beautiful color painted the sky as the darkness of the night approached.

“Oh, Logan! Look the bud is about to bloom!” You wrapped your arm around his pulling him over to you. He groaned as you pulled him over to you. You watched closely as the petals fought each other to release. Taking their sweet time to reveal the beauty within.

“Sure is taking its time,” Logan huffed, eyes fixated on you now. Loving how happy you looked awaiting the new flowers arrival.

The petals dispersed. Revealing the most beautiful black center of the flower. A large cloud of purple dust coming out with it. Before you could say anything, you and Logan both inhaled the fumes. Covering your mouth and coughing aggressively as the pollen stuck to the inside of your mouth. You wide eyed the plant, shocked at what came out of it.

“What the hell— that thing isn’t poisonous is it?!”

“I… I don’t really know,” you meekly whispered.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean we found this thing, noticed it was displaying some irregular behavior for a seedling of its type. And we decided to monitor it. I didn’t know it was going to cough up smoke at us!”

Logan stamped his foot. Frustrated by the lack of caring on your part. Pacing in a small circle next to you with the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Okay! We just have to stay here for the next 48 hours. Keep us under supervision just in case we feel any side effects. We go about our days like normal, just can’t leave the Academy,” you rubbed your hand up and down your arm. Logan irritably took a seat, head down with his hands folded over his lap. You grabbed the pod and placed it in a holding chamber all of its own. Walking over and kneeling down in front of Logan.

“I’m sorry. If I had known—“ you reached your hand out to rest it on Logan’s leg.

“You don’t have to be sorry. We can forget all about it at the party tonight. Celebrating whatever the hell Charles was on about,” Logan grinned at you.

You smiled, “I’ll celebrate anything if it means free drinks.”

Logan left the greenhouse while you finished up cleaning and double checking everything. A sudden hot flash washed over your body. Pulling a sweat from every inch of you. You fanned your hand in front of your face, your clothes feeling oddly tight suddenly. Maybe someone turned the heat up in the greenhouse. You walked over to check the thermostat. Nothing about the number had changed. As long as it was reading right you were comfortable leaving it be.

Walking up to your room. Heat engulfed you, a minor ache on your body now approaching. Choosing to ignore the problem entirely. Changing into something more comfortable for the evening ahead. Looking at yourself in the mirror when a sudden, promiscuous image flashed in your mind.

Logan.

Behind you. Both of you completely nude as he pounded into you. Watching yourself take him in the mirror. His hands splayed out on your chest, lips on your neck.

Your face flushed with your arousal. Unable to fight the feeling forming deep down inside you. Aching at your core. Leaning over your bed as you writhed.

The feeling of his hands grabbing your hips. Buried completely inside you. Your back arching to meet his thrusts. Head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

You gasped at the thought. Unsure of what was happening to you. Uncontrollably desire was taking over your body. Your hand found your aching core in an attempt to cool yourself down. Scrunching up your face at the feeling. It felt good, but not right. It was not what you needed. You needed him.

Your face was completely flushed with thoughts of Logan. Trying your hardest to make it less noticeable before going downstairs.

“Just stop,” you told yourself.

Heading down to the common area where all your fellow teachers had gathered. An adults only party, all the students were off away. You smiled as you greeted your fellow mutants. Getting stopped by Hank. His warm smile and soft eyes pulling your attention to him.

“Hi, Hank,” you smiled as you walked over to him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Hank grinned, fangs decorating his bright white smile. You thought about how his teeth would feel against your neck. Blushing at the idea of the large monster on top of you. Your thoughts suddenly morphing to fit Logan into your fantasy. Fangs nipping at your skin as strong hands held yours above your head. Panting as he thrusted into you. Sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Everything going good with that mysterious plant of yours?” Hank questioned, breaking your fantasy.

“Uh— Yeah, kinda. It bloomed today but some purple pollen came out it. Not sure if that’ll have any effect on me,” you droned off as you saw Logan enter the room. Completely fixated on him now. Seeing his bulging muscles revealed by his tank top. His broad shoulders and strong brow bone indicating he was some form of frustrated. His eyes finally caught yours. Awkwardly you turned back to focus on Hank as you continued on about the beauty of the mysterious flower. Unable to keep Logan in your peripheral. Excusing yourself from the conversation. Walking into a corner so you could scan the entire room. Unable to spot Logan anywhere.

Muscular arms wrapped around your waist. Almost calming the burn trickling down your nervous system. Nose finding its place in the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale. Your hands meeting those around you, feeling the veins popping out. Smell of musk and cologne overwhelming your senses.

A silent feeling that he understood exactly what you were going through.

“Smells so good,” his gruff, low voice rang in your ear. Your head leaning back against his shoulder, eyes straining to look at him. Black eyes stared at you. Pulling you flush against him, his semi-hard cock pressed into you. Chills ran up you. Rolling your hips to grind against him. A low groan, almost a growl, vibrated against your ear.

Hands inched down closer to the place you ached most. Fingers grazing the sweet spot causing you to arch backwards slightly. Circling your mound as his eyes scanned the room.

“Everyone is in here,” you whispered, a soft moan on your tone.

“I know,” he grumbled, kissing below your ear.

Both of you silently enjoyed the feeling of your bodies pressed together for a moment. How perfectly your body melted to his front. How the smell of him sent goosebumps down your body. The sound of his breathing in your ear pooling inside you.

“Saw you over there with furrball. He not tickling your fancy tonight?” Logan’s fingers dug into your skin, a hint of jealousy on his tone.

“No,” you simply said.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Logan groaned into your ear, “I could smell you from my fucking room. Need to rip these clothes off and get inside you right now.”

You choked on air. Realizing Logan was having the same feelings you were. Unsatisfiable desire.

“Didn’t matter how fucking good my hand felt, wasn’t right. It wasn’t you,” he purred. His fingers danced along the line of your pants, daring to dip under your clothes. Feeling your pantyline against his fingers, the softness of the lace continuing his desire. Your hand met his, intertwining fingers with him. Looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Lust blown eyes stared into yours. He plotted an escape route to make sure none of your coworkers watched you slip away together. Grabbing your hand and dragging you behind him.

His touch tingled against your skin. Your sensitive body being thrown into overdrive as you headed down the hallway together. Pulling you into a stairwell and turning to face you. His entire face was red, sweat beaming down his brow. You blushed. Eyes locked together, blown pupils matching each other.

“Dunno if I can wait much longer,” Logan growled as he palmed at himself through his jeans. You fell to your knees instinctively. Tugging at his belt, pulling a deep sigh from him. Releasing his fully erect cock from its confides. It sprung up, tip swollen and leaking. A thick vein wrapped around the underside. You felt your pussy clench around nothing, your mouth salivating at the sight of him. Doed eyes stared up at him, your hand grasping around his member. Lips pressing against the tip in a kiss. Logan moaned at your touch. His fingers tangled in your hair as he guided you down on him. Choking around his girth.

“That’s it,” Logan praised as he lead you up and down on his cock. Hollowing out your cheeks to take him all the way. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, fighting off your urge to gag. Feeling him twitch in your mouth, knowing it would not take long for you to get him there.

Logan’s eyes squinted shut as he finished in your mouth. A grunt as he held you in place. “It’s not enough,” he moaned. Eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at you. Reaching a hand down to help you up, “I need to be inside you.”

His words melted into your core. Igniting a primal feeling in you. You wrapped your hand around Logan’s leading him up the stairs.

“My room’s closer,” you answered the question you knew he was silently asking himself. A grin painted his face as he watched your ass bounce going up the stairs.

Hurriedly typing your code to access your room. Logan’s fingers rubbed circles on your core through your clothes. You arched your back into him, feeling his still completely erect dick. “‘M gonna fuck you so good, doll,” Logan purred in your ear pulling at the button on your pants. You bit your lip finally getting the door open. Logan practically shoved you inside.

Attaching his lips to yours immediately, hands cupping both sides of your face. His tongue penetrating your mouth as your teeth clinked together. You hooked your fingers under his tank top, pulling it over his head. His hairy, muscular chest was completely drenched in sweat. His lips attached onto your neck, tongue coming out to lick a stripe up your sensitive skin. “What’s going on with us?” Logan asked against your skin.

“I’dunno,” you moaned when his teeth grazed a spot you liked, “I just want you.” He smiled at your response.

Logan pushed you onto your back on the bed. Ripping your pants and panties off you. A gasp fell from you. “You’ve got plenty more,” he growled as he kneeled at the side of your bed. Pulling you so that he was directly in front of your core. Soaking the blanket underneath you as arousal took over every sense you had. Logan chuckled as he lapped at your core, “Tastes so good.” You arched your back off the bed at the sudden contact. Pushing yourself closer into his mouth. Furrowing your brows because — GOD — he felt good, but it just was not enough to cool the fire inside you. Grinding yourself against his face trying your damndest to reach your high. Logan latched onto you like an animal devouring his last meal. Fingers digging into your thighs, bruising the soft skin there. Hooded eyes stared up at your face admiring how you scrunched up your nose and hung your mouth open. The soft moans and squeaks pouring from your mouth like music to his ears. He rolled his hips into the side of the mattress, desperate to fuck you. But more desperate to get you off first.

Your nails dug into the soft blanket below you. Riding his tongue through your orgasm. Body jolting and legs shaking. His name a scream on your lips. Logan pulled away, his face soaked in your juices. Dropping his pants to the floor. He stroked himself as he stared at your entrance. Your body still basking in the afterglow of orgasm. Logan pounced on top of you. Gently removing your top, lips finding their place on your exposed breasts. Biting through the fabric of your bra to play with your nipples. Licking and sucking the thin material. His hand pinched at the opposite one. Lips dancing up your neck, biting at your jaw.

Rolling his exposed cock into your soaked entrance. The first bit of relief you had felt all day. A shaky moan escaping you. Logan smirked above you, leaning his head back feeling how your body begged for him. Sliding his member through your slit, collecting all your wetness on him. “My pretty girl,” he praised, “I’m gonna fill you up to the goddamn hilt.”

Easing his way into you. Your walls practically pulling him in. Both of you moaned in harmony, throwing your heads back. “That’s more like it,” he cooed. Easy himself back before slamming back in. Setting himself at a brutal pace. The sound of skin smacking together filled the room. He panted above you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You leaned forward to catch him in a kiss, Logan’s body slouching so that your front were pressed firmly together. Curving his arms under you, holding you tight as he fucked into you. A huff of breath falling from him with each snap of hips. He held you close, lips pressed against your neck. An occasional kiss being planted there. “You take cock so well. I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” he growled against your skin.

You clawed at his back. Desperate to hold him closer. Scratching down his body, pulling a moan from him. His pace was growing sloppy as he approached his own high. Your pussy still sensitive from your own. Walls clenching when he’d hit deep inside you. “Gonna be so full of me aren’t you? Little cum slut,” Logan grunted with each of his thrusts.

Logan attached his lips back to yours desperately panting and moaning as he felt himself about to finish. Sheathing himself fully inside you as he shot his seed. The feeling of him soothed the burn you had been feeling. Relieved by how perfectly he filled you up. You felt him grin against your skin, slumping all his body weight into you momentarily.

“Could stay like this all night,” he whispered in your ear. You petted his back, kissing him on the cheek.

“Yeah?”

“That way I can already be inside you when I feel like I gotta soothe the feeling again,” Logan playfully bit at your cheek.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I know this fic has been a long time coming so I hope it was a great read! I plan on writing quite a lot for the month of October, so if you have any requests send them my way! My next Logan fic is gonna be a Werewolf!AU //

{tags}

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @goodness-gracious13 ~ @figsnpassionfruits ~ @gretavankleep37 ~ @shinysam29 ~ @sunnyfranc ~ @savy-luvs-dilfs ~ @ayamenimthiriel ~ @megangovier ~ @its-in-the-woods ~ @father-of-2cats ~ @atthediscowithoutpanic ~

[eyesxxyou]

First Smoke 🚬

💨・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.5k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, smoking, shotgunning smoke, dubious consent, dry humping, spanking, a bit of toxic relationship dynamics, logan is not a good person, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

You’ve always been attracted to Logan Howlett. From his strong build—broad shoulders, the fine lines of veins on his arms—to his carefree disposition. You liked the way he carried himself, confident, lumbering, like his dick was too big between his legs. You especially liked his belts. The thick, worn, leather. The large buckle was always either silver or bronze, engraved with a design.

It was a worldly lust, one you shunned for many years growing up. One you tried to pray away. A test from God to see if you could remain devout. And for a while, you were doing so good. You kept your left for him down, you prayed for the strength to face him everyday.

And then he offered you a drink.

You were back the next day, and the next, and the next. All with the promise of great pleasure and even greater corruption. You prayed every night for forgiveness and went back to commit more sins, more atrocities against your body. You never let Logan take your virginity, but he did penetrate you with his fingers nearly every day. You’ve seen his erect cock, long and thick, 8 to 9 inches of solidity, while he jerked off while fingering you. He came on your belly, just nearly missing your cunt.

You sat like a pretty, little doll in Logan's garage in white stockings with flower designs on them, a white dress dotted in lilacs that went down to your shins, a white cardigan you knitted yourself, and your iconic mary janes heels. You fiddled with the pearl necklace sitting delicately on your collarbones while your heels clicked and your cardigan fell slightly off your shoulder.

Logan was shirtless, the muscles of his sweat covered back flexing as he rummaged through his toolbox. He was beautiful, sun-kissed, pants hanging low on his lips with that thick belt of his. His hair stuck slightly to the nape of his neck.

After a moment, he grunted, closed his toolbox, and reached into his pocket for a lighter while going over to grab a cigar. He placed the thick thing between his lips and flicked his lighter.

“Isn't that dangerous, Mr. Howlett? Lighting a cigar around grease and oil and gasoline?” You ask softly, watching him take a long drag before blowing the smoke. He looked at you with a quirked brow. “Don’t worry about it, doll.” He sat down on an old chair across the garage out of the sun, fingers motioning you over to sit in his lap as you always did. He loved you in his lap, your frame so pretty on top of him, the way you squirm.

Your eyes flickered to the open garage door, rolled up all the way to let the waning sunlight in. “I can't, Mr. Howlett. Someone will see us.” And that someone will recognize you as the pastor’s daughter and inform your father that you were caught in his lap. Canoodling with not only a man, but a man twice your age. He’d never let you out of the house again.

Logan glanced out of the door. “Nah, we’re hidden behind the bike.” A lie that fell too smoothly from his lips. You both were in the corner, in the shade. Eyes would glaze right over your bodies. No one would notice you two unless they were truly taking the time to look. People rarely ever did.

You seemed to calm a little at his words and carefully made your way over to his little corner where he lounged. Logan offered out a hand to keep you steady as you hiked up the skirt of your dress a little and straddled his thighs. You placed your hands on his chest to balance yourself. You liked the hair on his chest that led down his rock solid abdomen. There was a single vein leading down below the belt.

You looked back over your shoulder at the open garage door, eyeing the street as a car passed by. Logan noticed the worry pressing wrinkles to your face, the doubt in your eyes and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him instead of the street. Smoke came out of his nose slightly, “stop worrying.”

He took another long drag of his cigar and watched with amusement as you eyed the thing curiously. “You don't want none of this, baby. It’s too strong for you.” Logan’s hand stroked your thigh through your stockings. Your lips unintentionally formed into a small pout. You were used to being told no in your life, but Logan never did. You liked the freedom that came with being with him, even if that was at the expense of your soul. You were making dealings with the devil.

Logan sucked up smoke into his mouth and grabbed you firmly at the back of the head, pulling you in to press your lips to his. He blew the smoke between your lips and let it fill your mouth and billow down your throat. Breaking away, began to cough into the back of your hand.

“I told you; too strong for a little babydoll like you.”

The taste lingered on your lips and in your mouth, smokey, bitter. How could he possibly enjoy this stuff? He smoked and drank like it was nothing but you had remained abstemious your entire life, you weren't accustomed to the taste yet. More importantly, your lips had tasted his lips. He had so suddenly stolen your first kiss from you.

You whispered to him, “that was my first kiss.”

“Oh baby,” Logan leaned forward, chuckling softly. “That wasn't a kiss. I can show you what a real kiss looks like.” He took his cigar from his mouth, enjoying the way you shuddered as his prickly facial hair brushed against your cheek. He kissed you because he could, because he wanted to, because he knew if he didn't steal your first kiss from your delicate hands, someone else would. He had to take everything from you, be your first everything, possess you wholly.

You were awkward, squirming, unsure of what to do with your mouth, your tongue. Logan held you by the hips, pulling you ever closer, tasting of smoke, whiskey, and bad decisions rolled into one. His tongue pressed to yours, tracing and exploring every crevice of your mouth. He was not gentle with you. You were no child, you could handle it.

Your lips tasted like a medley of fruit from your lip balm and toothpaste. You were fresh, clean, so terribly pure that every lick of his tongue against yours, every orgasm he drew out of you dirtied you in the mud of sin. Your hands were clawing at his shoulders, your hips pressed down into his lap with the help of his hands.

Another car went past and you leaped away from his kiss, panting. “Someone’s going to see us, Mr. Howlett. My father will kill both of us.” Logan didn't seem to care all that much. He pulled the skirt of your dress up and pulled you down until your body pressed flush with his. Your little cunt pressed right to the large buckle of his belt.

He reached between your legs and found a weak spot in your stockings, jabbing his finger through and ripping the lacy fabric through the middle to access your pretty center. You were wearing another pair of cotton panties, white, with a little bow on the front. “Mr. Howlett.” You whined at your ruined article of clothing. You’d never be able to explain it to your parents. “Listen to me. We can't, not here.”

“We'll be fine, doll.” He grunted, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. Logan was so much stronger than you, his hand forcing you to press yourself down onto him, your cotton-covered clit catching along the design of his buckle. You gasped, shuddering, your eyes growing heavy. Your hands on his shoulders, rubbing his chest. You weren't like you were before. Timid. Afraid. You were scandalous in a way you never thought you would be. You took the time to grind your hips against his buckle, finding just the right ridge to play with your clit.

How he's tainted you.

Logan leaned back, smoking with a serene smirk while he watched you take your pleasure against his belt. It was quite the show. Your fingers against his solid chest, your eyes fluttered to a close, the way you humped him almost like a desperate bitch in heat. Dulcet moans passed your lips like a song, silky and sweet with a touch of depravity.

“Oooh– Mr. Howlett~” You liked all the bumps and ridges of the design on his buckle, the way it all tickled your pussy at just the right spots and angles. Logan stroked your hip with his free hand, smoking with his other. You were all whiny and squeaky, already falling apart in his lap. He’s made you something monstrous, disgusting. And you liked it.

You were soaking through your panties. Any other time you would have been humiliated, the sin of your lust. But oh, you were hitting all the right spots and you couldn't hear anything beyond the ringing in your ears. Someone could have walked right into Logan's garage and witnessed you pleasuring yourself on his belt of all things and you would have hardly noticed.

Logan, thoroughly amused, took a long drag from his cigar and blew it into your face. You felt a little hazy, whining a little. “Stop.” He did it again, smiling and chuckling lowly as you squirmed. “I can get the whiskey out again, doll. You seem to enjoy yourself better when you’re drunk.”

You shook your head. “Nuh uh, let me– let me keep going. I'm…enjoying myself– just fine.” You squeaked as you found a little nub to rub your bundle of nerves across. You could feel everything as if you didn't have any panties on at all. Your underwear stuck to your cunt like a second sink, so thin that it might as well not be there in the first place.

You were a sensitive little thing. Getting you to cum was an easy task. A few clicks at your clit, a few dirty words in your ear, and you were melting into a puddle in his lap. This time, you were doing it all by yourself, showing off all you had learned. But there was nothing quite satisfying about that. Logan liked his unwavering control over you.

So as you teetered towards the edge of relief, Logan grunted, “Don't you cum until I tell you to.” There was a warning hidden behind his voice. There would be consequences if you disobeyed. You were used to obeying, you just found a new master to serve. 

You cried softly. “No, no, no, ‘m so close,” you slurred, rutting your hips like a wild animal. Logan tapped his cigar off the side of the chair before placing it back between his lips. “Don't you dare, doll.” It threatened unknown possibilities, an infinity of punishments. “I’ll march you out into the street and finger you in the front yard. Everyone will see you for the slut you are.”

He’d never actually do it. Logan would like to keep the sight of you cumming to himself alone, but the threat was enough to keep you at bay, to keep his firm control over you.

You shook your head wildly, still rubbing and humping, tears pricking your eyes. “No, please–” You wept at the thought of being ousted from your community, disowned by your family, made to be some shameless whore on the street. A man like Logan would never marry you. He'd never make you his wife. He liked playing with the hearts of little girls like you, who didn't know any better.

So you try your best not to cum with tears streaking your face, tears that only make Logan harder. You look so pretty when you cry. Partially from pleasure, partially from fear, maybe some pain. Your legs trembled with the weight of an orgasm denied.

You went like this for 2 orgasms. Your pussy rubbed red and puffy through your panties, a wet patch on the crotch of his pants from your dripping cunt. “I can't! I can't, Mr. Howlett.” You were sobbing hysterically. Your entire body shook violently with your next orgasm that rushed you like a freight train and came with a hot flash throughout your entire body.

Logan watched you cum on his belt, pussy pulsing and rubbing. You almost went cross-eyed, how cute. Your cheeks were dripping wet with salty tears he could just lick right off your face if he so desired. He liked seeing you cry, liked the way you sobbed like you had no sense.

You were panting, aching, nearly fell right off his lap if he didn't catch you. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry. Please don't take me to the yard. My– my family will never look at me the same.” You murmured out your words, still crying like a baby.

“I ain't gonna take you to the yard, doll.” Logan, thoroughly amused by your panic, guided you to lay over his lap with your ass facing the open garage door. “I am gonna give you a spanking though.” He smiled at the whimper you let out; his hand flipping up your skirt to reveal your ripped stockings and soaked through panties.

You were reminded of when you were a little girl, in your father's lap when he would spank you for doing something bad. You wiggled and writhed with anticipation, fingers gripping his thigh. Logan soothed his hand over the soft skin of your ass as he gripped great handfuls of flesh into his palms.

The first one came with a great ring of skin against skin. You yelped, lunging forward. More tears, more childish crying. Logan rubbed the spot where he spanked you to soothe the pain. “Quiet down. You don't want anyone to get curious, do you?” You shook your head with feverish intent. You couldn't have anyone looking this way, watching you get spanked, reporting back to your father.

Logan raised his hand and brought it down against your other asscheek. You bit your lip to stifle the sob that threatened to leave you. You did the same when he spanked you again and again, biting so hard you could taste the metallic beginnings of blood.

In total, Logan spanked you 15 times before he deemed it enough and let you up. You were shaking like a startled dog, your once neat, pinned up hair now ruined, your dress wrinkled, your stockings ripped. You were a beautiful mess. His beautiful mess. He was ruining you.

“Come here, babydoll.” Logan coaxed you towards him as he put out his cigar in the ashtray nearby. He took you by the hips and pulled you back into his lap. You were so small and meek, you didn't even fight.

Logan brushed your hair out of your face, carefully fixing it back up with various bands and clips until it looked reasonably neat again. He was gentle for once, taking your chin in between his fingers, and he kissed you. He was tender with that too, licking the blood from your bottom lip with a smile.

Logan always had a habit of destroying his favorite toys.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 15 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: What is inside the box?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, hinting of suicidal thoughts in the past, stalking, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

„Life. What even is life? An endless, pointless cycle of moments and memories which all serve the sole purpose of destroying my soul?"

“What is this?”

The words were barely even audible, but you could tell that he heard you nonetheless.

You tried so hard to focus on the box and whatever was inside, to be fierce and angry, but all you could truly look at was the bouquet in his hand. A giant bouquet of white roses, just like you had mentioned before. The innocence for which white roses stood, a heart that was inexperienced in love. The secret language of flowers. You had spent a whole afternoon explaining it to him and he didn’t laugh once, he didn’t even smirk. He had been so enamored with your words and the way your eyes shone and sparkled as you spoke about it.

And now he brought them home to you. Of course he did.

It made the pain in your chest grow tenfold. How was it possible? And why did you deserve this? What did you do to deserve it?

Why now?

Why not a month ago, when you had been confused and angry, sad and disappointed, covered in marks and an air of fear?

Why now?

He slammed the roses down onto the bed and rolled his sleeves up.

Did he wash his hands already?

He cracked his knuckles and suddenly you were sure these last few weeks had been no more than a fever dream. You saw yourself, motion- and lifeless, strangled to death by his beautiful hands.

But you fought. You fought so hard to let the anger win over your fear.

“What is this?”

He hummed softly and took a step closer, only for you to back away.

“Can’t you tell?”

You looked down at the box again. It was shaking in your hands. With a few quick, uneven breaths, you reached inside and began to pull out what would, no doubt, cause you nightmares, if you made it out alive this time.

“Is everyone born with a soul? Do some of us end up losing it during the course of our life? And is the soul even real? If it isn’t, why do I feel like I can feel it breaking? Tearing and crumbling? Every time she touches me. Every time she smiles and says it’s what’s best for me.”

The paper was the most prominent, for it was so big. It was crumpled up by a few times, like someone had read it in a fit of rage and attempted to throw it away - but decided against it.

Your cry for help.

You didn’t need more than two seconds to recognize the text. You had written it quite a while ago and you remembered the day vividly in your mind. Sitting at your desk in your childhood bedroom. A storm had raged outside, like it did every so often and you found yourself crying silently, feeling the suffocating weight of your mothers abuse. After she finished punishing you with the belt for what felt like hours, she stroked your hair in a way that was almost affectionate and whispered: “My dumb, stubborn girl. This is for your best. You should know better than to defy me again.”

She then locked you in your room and you spent the next two hours lying on your stomach, crying into your pillow. Every movement was painful and the depression came crashing like a stone rain. The loneliness was the worst. After eventually you stopped crying, because your tears ran dry, you closed your eyes and imagined, how beautiful would it be? How beautiful would it be, if someone came and rescued you. If someone came and loved you.

Loved you to death.

“The darkness surrounds me like a grey cloud. And I want out. Out, out, out. Please, Lord, let me out. Let me swim in the abyss of darkness and send me a dark prince to swim alongside. Let him be broken, like I am and I promise I will set him free. Let others call him overwhelming, let them call him suffocating. Let them call him all the bad things in the world. I care not. I don’t want for his love to be easy. Don’t let him love me conveniently, passively. Let him devour me whole. Let his soul consume mine. Let him be all-consuming. Let him end me with his love. Let me be his and let him be mine. All mine.”

You spent hours of your childhood and youth daydreaming like that. But the outcome was always the same.

You, crying and alone in your bedroom, sobbing to yourself, because no one loved you.

And no one ever would.

Normally, you’d fall asleep after a while. But not that day. The pain was intense and the humiliation that came with it was even worse. You considered watching a show, but even that felt impossible. Reading? Oh, no. You couldn’t bear it. For once, the lovely romance didn’t bring you any comfort, because it wasn’t your own. It only ever reminded you of how you wouldn’t get that kind of affection. That attention.

That love.

Ever.

So, instead, you moved to your desk and began to mindlessly hit the keyboard of your laptop in an attempt to find some comfort in the words. You poured out your heart and soul, because it was all that you got that would keep you from dreaming of dangerous things.

Once you finished typing and you read over the lines, you did something rather odd. You logged into the website, on which you’d normally be no more than a silent reader, a quiet mouse in the walls, a fly, observing and merely existing. And for whatever reason, you really couldn’t tell, you pressed the upload button.

There was your text, your soul bled onto paper. You stared down at it and…

Nothing.

For another hour – nothing.

And eventually you gave up.

No one would read it. No one would understand it. And no one would rescue you.

You parked it in the back of your head and forgot that it existed.

It wasn’t until three months later that you began to work out a plan, apply for jobs, book a flight in the hopes of finding a reason to live, somewhere across the globe.

And when one of the companies actually considered you – it wasn’t the greatest job, but it was a job and it was a real opportunity to leave – you immediately agreed. You ended up destroying the laptop in case your mother found it and tried to find you as well.

“Where did you get this?” You hissed as you stumbled to your feet, the paper crumpled in your hand. He sighed softly and approached you with tiny steps.

“Don’t you know how the internet works, darling? Once you publish something, it belongs to the depths of the network.”

Your frown deepened. “But why do you have it?”

He raised a brow, something akin amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t think that’d be the thing that spooked you the most.”

“What do you-“

All it needed was a short glance down at the box and you felt your blood run cold.

Oh God, this was even worse than you thought. Far worse.

You swallowed, but your mouth felt dry. With a shaky hand, you reached down and carefully touched what remained in the box.

Your driver’s license. So far, so bad. You had lost it a few months ago or so you thought. Somewhere in the streets of Seoul. But did you really? You had asked yourself more than once. Why would you have lost it? You hadn’t driven a car since you came here. You took the bus, the train or you walked. And so you saw no reason to carry it with you, wherever you went. You were sure you had left it in your apartment, in-between credit cards and important papers, which you still needed to sort out. But why would it disappear from the safety of your home? It made no sense. You didn’t want to be paranoid, so you simply told yourself you had lost it.

And there it was.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest.

You had lost it, months before you even met him. But this wasn’t even the worst part.

No. The horrifying part was yet to come.

There it was – tiny, little you. Cheeky and toothless, not older than four or five. Your father had still been alive then, that was the reason you still held that spark, that gleam in your eyes. Youthful and alive. Happy, even.

A normal girl. Unbroken.

You remembered the tiny photograph. For whatever reason – it couldn’t be love – your mother had kept it. The picture had its place in the living room of your childhood home, right above the chimney. And there she was, staring up at you - the sweet, little brat that you once had been.

Somewhere in the middle of South-Korea.

And it hadn’t been you who took that picture with you.

He had been there. He had been home. He had been in the fucking house.

Back in the day, when you gathered your most necessary things, you didn’t care about tokens or childhood memories. No, you only took what you could wear, eat or pay with and then you left in a hurry. There were no things like childhood pictures. You were sure this picture belonged somewhere in Yorkshire.

A ring from your jewelry box, a near-empty lip gloss you had worn only for yourself, a hair clip, a teddy bear and was that…

Oh, God.

You stared down at the pair of panties that you had worn far more than once in your life. He hadn’t taken that from any cupboard, had he? The faint blood-stain was self-explanatory.

A wave of nausea caused you to shudder and gasp out. You pulled your hand back like you had been burned and the paper fell from your hand.

He was still standing a few feet away, watching your reaction carefully. He obviously hadn’t hoped for disgust and fear, but that was exactly what covered your expression.

“Oh, God.” You whispered breathlessly. Your blood was rushing loudly in your ears and you stumbled backwards, until your back hit the wardrobe. “Oh, God.”

“Don’t panic, alright? Let me explain.”

“Explain?! What is there to explain?! Did you- Were you in my- Fuck!”

Your hands were shaking furiously and you tugged on your own hair, hardly recognizing the pain as such. The real pain was in your chest and stomach. The real pain stood right before you.

“Let me explain.” He said more firmly and took another step closer, ready to free your hair from your bruising grip.

You backed away and stared at him with wide, crazed eyes.

“Stay the hell away from me!”

He exhaled slowly, obviously to calm himself down. He was pretty good at this now. After all, he hadn’t hit you in weeks. But now, he seemed pretty tempted.

“Calm down.” He gritted out. “Shut your mouth and let me explain.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine and suddenly the curtain was lifted again. This was one fucking Joe Goldberg worthy moment. Just that not even that guy had been twisted enough to follow his victim around the whole globe…Or had he? You hadn’t finished the show yet. And you probably never would, after all, you were as good as dead.

“Why?” You heard yourself whisper.

He ran his hands through his hair, leaving it messy in his frustration. He then took a deep breath and loosened his tie.

Oh, he would strangle you. Creative.

“It…It’s complicated.”

You frowned. Ever since you got here, you hadn’t ever before witnessed him get so…flustered? Embarrassed, even. What on earth was this?

Was he even truly angry?

“Speak.” You hissed out. “Speak, or I swear to you, I’ll-“

He raised a hand to silence you and it worked. Your anger only went as far and the fear won. There was obviously still something inside of you that fought for your safety. Your sense of self wasn’t entirely dead. Only beaten to a pulp. An unconscious one.

“I read your text.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I’m a sinner and I’m not a good person. The thoughts I have, they’re dark and bad. Too bad for anyone to understand, except for the lonely, broken souls which yearn for the same freedom that I do.”

Now it was you who took a breath to calm yourself. Fucking idiot.

“I then…” He groaned in frustration and kept stalking closer like a predator. “I hacked your IP-address. I found out where you lived.”

The wave of nausea became more and more apparent, leaving you gasping and near retching. You felt your mouth run dry and the room spin around you.

“I saw the pictures on your computer.”

Now, that was what caused you to stumble and your knees to give in. He immediately rushed forward, ready to catch you, but you backed away against the other wall, like a caged animal.

The pictures…

The pictures were for no one but yourself. Just a silly girl, trying on her mother’s dress and playing dress-up in her room. You remembered how the dress made you feel. Pretty in a way…but also restrained. You remembered the way your eyes glistened in the photos. Pretty, but sad. What had made you so sad? The way the dress made you feel. And the way you were so sure that you would never, never feel beautiful in a dress.

Never feel confident.

Never feel desired.

“And then?” You croaked out.

“And then I paid you a visit.” He said quietly.

“Dear Lord, I was already on my way to you. How many times? I cannot count. And what kept me here, what kept me? The hope for my dark prince to come.”

“I sat in a fucking Honda for near two days. I hid behind the hillside, so you wouldn’t get suspicious. A few times, I was sure someone would call the cops on me, but no one ever did. No wonder. Your next neighbors lived like a whole mile away. I remember getting so angry and thinking to myself, doesn’t she ever leave the house? But that anger quickly disappeared, when I finally saw you.” He smiled wistfully and tilted his head to the side. His smile seemed oddly genuine and not twisted at all. Unlike the rest of him. “Your mother was walking in front of you and speaking to someone on the phone. I remember thinking that you look nothing like her. She radiated such confidence, but not in a good way. More like…More like someone who takes up all the space in a room. Who sucks out all the air and doesn’t care that she leaves everyone else to suffocate. That bratty make-up and the way she swayed her hips and wiggled her ass around like a dumb dog. Repulsive.”

He sounded so angry.

It left you feeling oddly confused…and somehow comforted. Your first reaction was to be angry and horrified, because he followed you and stalked you all the way back to England. But the way he spoke about your mother, it made you feel so…seen. It was exactly how you saw her. So, you just stood and listened.

“You were different.” He hummed softly. “You looked so fragile compared to her. Like every step you took was a high risk. I didn’t understand it. I kept thinking how beautiful you are. Sad, sure. But beautiful. I kept asking myself why you wouldn’t see that. What a waste.”

Your heart was racing in your chest. It didn’t make any sense. Not a single word that left his mouth made any sense. His actions were a lost cause anyway, but his mind was worse. Whenever you felt like you understood him, he quickly made sure you didn’t. And now everything was different. All that was gone, right? He was a fucking stalker.

He was a murderer. You knew that since you first met him, knowingly, but at least he was open about that.

This, right here. This was a lie. A big, messed up, mean lie.

“None of this makes any sense.” You somehow choked out. “You read a text I wrote and saw a picture of me and that made you travel all the way to England? And why are we- Why am I here? Did you-“

“Let me finish.” He was now close enough to reach out a hand and touch you, but he didn’t. There he was again. The man who was so strangely adamant not to force himself on you.

Was there a reason for that? Would he ever tell you?

Your chest heaved rapidly with every breath you took. You knew there was no way out, except right through. So, you nodded.

Lord, help me.

“All I want is for someone to love me…and to love him in return.”

“I went inside and…” He glanced at the box and smiled to himself. “I know I went a little overboard, alright?” He sighed softly. “But can’t you see it? We’re made for each other.”

“You’re a stalker.” You said quietly. A part of you feared his reaction. But another part of you, the stronger one in this case, feared something else far more.

No matter what he did to you so far – he always seemed clear about it. He had never once come off as confused. Sociopathic, maybe. But he knew what he was doing. He knew that he abducted you. He knew.

But in that moment, something seemed different. And that scared the hell out of you.

He was insane. Of course he was. But his eyes were open about it.

Instead of striking you though, he smiled. A soft smile, with soft eyes. He then reached out a hand and carefully brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your back against the wall behind you.

“Don’t be scared.” He said quietly. “Let me finish.”

You kept your eyes closed, but you nodded slowly.

“You wanted someone to rescue you, didn’t you?”

That made you frown and your eyes shot open.

“But that wasn’t you. I made it out of there on my own. I found myself a job. I booked the flight and I left on my own. That wasn’t you.”

He smiled in a mixture of amusement and something else. “Are you sure?”

That gave you pause. “What?”

He sighed softly and kept his gaze fixed on his fingers, still playing with your hair.

“Didn’t you ever ask yourself why you got the job so easily? No interview needed, nothing. They just hired you. Some little girl from England with no experience, except for what she learned in school.” He spoke calmly and softly. And you felt another shiver run down your spine, but not in the same way as it did, when he kissed your neck.

That memory suddenly seemed awfully distant.

Did that even really happen?

“What are you talking about? How would you-“

He shot you a long, suggestive look, his lips twitching treacherously.

“My computer.” You said quietly.

He nodded. “I told you, darling. It’s all in the network.”

“But how did you make them hire me?”

“It wasn’t that hard. Enough money can buy you anything these days.”

You swallowed. “Alright. So, you bribed them to hire me. What else?”

He hummed, feigning thoughtfulness. “Your mother came home late the day you left, didn’t she?”

Your eyes widened. “Is she-“

“No.” He said firmly and slowly shook his head. “No. She just had another client, unexpectedly.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. You were a horrible person. Your thoughts were dark and came from a bad place.

“Good.” You whispered. He raised a brow, like he didn’t believe you. It wasn’t too hard, he could read you like a picture book.

You glanced down at the box again. “So, you were in my house. My computer, my job. What about the rest?”

He smirked and looked down for a moment. “You have something specific in mind, don’t you?”

“Didn’t you care about the blood?” You didn’t know why that triggered you so much. Almost more so than the job. Maybe he had altered your brain chemistry so much, that you now thought insane things to be normal. Twisted ways to be expected. Bad to be good.

“You think I’m scared of a little blood?” He bit his lip and slowly shook his head. “Me?”

You wanted to laugh. It was so ridiculous. Everything was. This whole situation was so sick and at the same time, he was cracking jokes?

“Did you forget that my own desires are rather twisted?” He sighed softly. “I just wanted to be close to you. To feel you. And that was all I had at the time. Except for that one time in your apartment, of course.”

You tried to swallow, but the was no saliva. You tried to breathe, but there was no air.

When you saw the driver’s license, you had assumed as much. But you had also assumed that he had broken in, while you were at work or anywhere else. Not at home.

“Where was I?” You whispered shakily.

“Asleep.” He murmured. “Like an angel.”

You closed your eyes and held onto the wall, but this time he didn’t let you back away and instead he caught you. He pressed his palms against your hips and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Careful.” He whispered.

“Did you…” You swallowed heavily. “Did you touch me?”

His calm expression turned into a frown and he pulled his head back to get a better look at your face. “No.” He said in a tone of voice that made it obvious how offended he felt.

“Forgive me!” You snapped back angrily. “How silly of me to assume!”

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but he took another slow breath to calm himself down. Whatever he did, it was working. His expression relaxed.

“I didn’t touch you.” He said quietly. “I just watched you for a while.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

“What?”

“Why did it take you so long to…” You gestured around the room.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I didn’t want for things to go this way. I wanted to…to meet you. To speak to you. To take you out for coffee maybe. But…I just…”

You listened to him with a patience that surprised you. Of course you wanted to be angry with him, because you knew, despite the mess in your head, that would have been the right way to react. And you were angry. But you weren’t really angry, because he broke in or followed you. Because he stole your things or pulled the strings of your life like you were some dumb puppet.

You were angry, because he never told you about it.

Because he lied.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His head snapped up and he met your gaze with obvious disbelief. “What?”

You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had to find out by myself.”

He frowned - and for the first time ever since you had met him – he was truly speechless.

“I trusted you.” You said quietly, without taking your eyes off him. “I accepted your sick bullshit, I took everything you gave me. I forgave you every thing you did to me – to my body and to my mind. I trusted you. And you can’t trust me in return. Why not?”

“I was…”

“Afraid?”

His dark eyes widened and he pulled his head back like you had slapped him. “What? No. Not afraid.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest, feeling far angrier than you expected.

“You slapped me. Punched me. Threatened me. Made me feel like I’m worthless. You deprived me of food, water and goddamn privacy. You ignored me for weeks. And I still forgave you. But you couldn’t even tell me the truth about who you are.”

“Stop this.” He hissed.

“You don’t care for anything except yourself. The only reason why I’m here, is because you thought I was pleasant to look at and pliable. Did you do this more than once? Do you always do it like this? Collect your poor victims online? Is it always people like me, with no family and no one to miss them? Or are some of them more lovable than I am?”

“I’m warning you.” He gritted out between his teeth, his gaze flicking from the floor to your face and back.

“The only reason why I’m here is because you wanted to fuck and me and eventually get rid of me. If I didn’t agree willingly, you would have just taken what you wanted, just like that man-“

“Shut up!” He rushed forward and grabbed your shoulders, pressing you against the wall with, what seemed to be, all his strength. His grip was painful and his movement rough, but the sound of his voice was anything but. It wasn’t an angry exclamation. It was a man, more desperate than you had ever seen before. “Shut up! That’s not true! It’s just not true!”

Your heart skipped a beat and you swallowed thickly. This was either really good or it was fucking bad.

“Then why am I here? Why me?”

His breathing was going shallow and his eyes were wide and almost frightened. It was a sight you weren’t used to at all. He was normally either composed or angry. But never this desperate, never this vulnerable. Not even that one time in the kitchen. Even back then, he kept a semblance of composure, but in this moment, he was too far gone. He looked like he was in pain, like he was aching and you were the reason. This time, though, you couldn’t stop. You needed answers, you needed something.

“Why me?” You whispered again, fighting for air.

“Because I-“ His brows furrowed in a mixture of anger and desperation, while his gaze scanned your face restlessly. He looked like he was on the verge of exploding, of dying, of crumbling into a cloud of non-existence.

“Say it.” You whispered. “Just fucking say it.”

When he still didn’t reply and instead just kept staring at you with those wide, uncertain eyes, it suddenly became too much for you.

“You owe me the truth!” You snapped in a fit of anger. “I did everything for you! I accepted everything! And also, for God's sake, I'm not an idiot! I can tell that there is something, something you want to tell me but your just too afraid to! I don't understand what it is and why it's so hard for you, but, fuck, things are hard for me, too! Despite all this, I never tried to leave, because I didn’t want to! I stayed here, despite everything and you can’t even bring yourself to tell me why you-“

“I love you.”

“Love me unconditionally, love me to death. Love me with his last breath. And I promise you, I promise, I will love him just the same. I will die for him and I will live for him. Let him murder my soul and I will kiss his hand. Let him bathe in my blood and I will apologize for the mess. Let him be as he is, let him be dark, let him be hurtful. Let him suffocate me and I will forgive it. Just let him love me as I am.”

There was no affection in his words. None at all. He bit them out like a curse, like another man would have a degrading slur. The hiss in his voice was all too apparent and so was his anger. There was no affection. Only pain.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care though. All that you cared about was…

“What?” You breathed out.

He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on you. Killing someone wasn’t nearly as hard for him, you could tell.

For a good ten seconds, you didn’t care about the way he said it. But then you suddenly did. And you also cared about the way he couldn’t seem to look at you.

Was he bullshitting you?

Had he just said that?

Was this some kind of twisted mind game?

“No, you don’t.” You nearly spat out. “You don’t even know me.”

His eyes shot open and the look in them was all but terrifying. But again, you didn’t care. You had long made peace with death. That was probably one of the main reasons why you stayed with him and did everything he asked, why your sense of self-preservation left you so early.

You were his girl, after all.

“I don’t know you?” He spat out in return.

“No, you don’t. How would you-“

“Your favorite colors are forest green and apricot.”

He was bullshitting you. It was a mind game.

“Do you really think a stupid color-“

“You never had a boyfriend. Just one kiss. A lost bet. You had your first real crush in High School and it was your teacher. You’re afraid of sharks, but you love orcas. Your favorite food is anything Italian. You hate alcohol. Your favorite book is Wuthering Heights. You favorite season is spring. You favorite musician is that Indie woman and I keep forgetting her fucking name, but you know who I mean. With the long, dark hair. She sounds like she’s crying in every song and she keeps referring to Jim and no one knows if she’s singing about her ex-partner or the drink. Your favorite actress is Sharon Tate. You’re afraid in the dark. You like being called darling. It sounds like something someone would call his partner in a stable relationship. You love Fred and Ginger. The nineteen-twenties are your favorite decade. You prefer Fitzgerald over Hemingway. You cry when you cum. And you love it, when I kiss your neck and call you sweet names, while I’m slowly ripping your body apart. You’re too ashamed to say the word fuck, in any normal situation, but you’d say anything, anything at all, when you’re in the right mood. You wish your mother was dead and you hate yourself for thinking that. One of your biggest fears is birthing a child. You want to write a book. You’re religious. You forgive far too easily, even a sick bastard like myself. You’re-“

By the time he got to the point of mentioning your mother, you felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over you. And suddenly everything was too much. His grip was too tight, the air was too little, your heart beating far too fast.

You didn’t. You didn’t want her to die. You just wanted…just wanted to be free.

Was that the same thing?

Were you horrible like that?

You didn’t even realize you were starting to hyperventilate, not even when he loosened his grip on you and gently cupped your face in his hands.

“Hey.” He whispered. “Hey. Stop. Stop.”

Hot tears ran down your cheeks and he quickly wiped them away with his thumbs.

“Look at me. Look at me.”

He gently tipped your chin up and then wrapped his arms around you, cradling you against his chest and gently running his fingers through your hair.

“Shh.” He made softly, as he gently rocked you back and forth. “Shh. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” He whispered.

He was a stalker. He was sick. He was dangerous.

And he knew you.

And he loved you.

He still loved you.

He knew your flaws. And he loved you.

He loved you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to him tightly, like a child, desperately seeking the comfort and warmth only he could give you. His grip on you tightened and he nuzzled the top of your head, mumbling gentle reassurances and sweet nothings against your hair.

It took forever, but eventually you calmed down.

He made you calm down.

And he loved you.

He cared about you.

And he loved you.

He knew you and he loved you.

After a while, when you finally managed to gently free yourself from his grip and slowly pull your head back, just enough to look at him, he didn’t cower. He stared right back at you, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression softer than ever before.

He was a different man.

You couldn’t tell what it was. But it was there.

It wasn’t just a better mood, a better day, a shift in his demeanor –

It was him. He was different. A different man.

But somehow, he was still the same.

The way he looked at you was the same. Only softer.

The way his eyes shone was the same. Only wiser.

He loved you.

“Do you really mean it?” You whispered, with the innocence of someone who was inexperienced in love.

He bit his lip and briefly glanced down at the floor, before he met your gaze again.

“I mean it.” He whispered back, with the softness of someone who had no idea what love even meant. His lips hovered right above your own and suddenly he didn't seem so bitter any more. "I love you." He whispered against your lips. "I do."

For you, he seemed willing to try.

He would do anything, wouldn’t he? Because you would.

Maybe he would even love you to death.

“Let him love me.”

He loved you.

_______________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @rlmiku

Author's note:

The most important things first:

Thanks to the lovely @thelastofkryze for the plot twist, because pookie came up with the stalking thing!

And thanks to the wonderful @muchwita for being a grand inspiration of the toxic love part in the letter ("Let others call him (...) love me conveniently, passively.")

Our man's being soft for a reason, guys!

I love you all! 🤍

[mysticalmallard]

Good weird

Description: Ghost girlfriend comes over to stay the night for the first time

Wordcount: 705

Warnings: none I think

CoD Masterlist 💀 Main Masterlist

Ghost's normally dark and sparsely decorated apartment looked decidedly more lived-in that night as he waited for his girlfriend to arrive. He'd tidied up the place, made the bed, and even bought a vase of fresh flowers for the coffee table.

As the doorbell rang, he took a deep breath, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

Opening the door, he saw his girlfriend standing there, a mixture of excitement and nerves on her face, with her bag on her shoulder. It was the first time she was spending the night at his place, and they both knew it was a significant step in their relationship.

Ghost stepped aside, allowing her to enter. The two of them stood awkwardly for a moment, both unsure how to break the silence.

His girlfriend smiled at him, her eyes taking in the small but clean apartment."I like your place," she said, her fingers tracing the edge of a chair. "It's very... you."

Ghost chuckled, a rare sound coming from him. "I try to keep things simple," he replied. "Less chance of making a mess."

She walked over to the vase of flowers on the coffee table, admiring them. "These are beautiful," she said, her fingers grazing the soft petals.

Ghost watched her, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest as he saw her enjoying his space.

"I wanted everything to be perfect," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "It's the first time you're spending the night here, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

She turned to look at him, a soft smile on her face. "You don't need to try so hard, you know," she said, her voice full of affection. "I'm comfortable as long as I'm with you."

Ghost felt the weight of her words, the honesty and vulnerability in them soothing his nerves. He stepped closer to her, close enough that he could smell the sweetness of her shampoo.

"I'm not used to this," he said quietly, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Having someone else in my space... It makes me feel...weird."

She placed her hand on his chest, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. "Good weird or bad weird?" she asked, her eyes searching his face.

He took a breath, the feel of her hand on his chest anchoring him. "Good weird," he replied, his voice low. He brought his hand up, covering hers with his own. "Just... uncharted territory for me."

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them now comfortable rather than awkward. Then, a flicker of mischief flashed in his girlfriend's eyes.

"You know, now that I'm here..." she drawled, stepping even closer to him, "there are some things we could... explore."

The implication hung in the air like a promise, and Ghost felt his heart rate pick up.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice going lower, huskier. He leaned in, his lips almost touching hers.

"Very much so," she replied, her breath ghosting over his skin. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing softly over her bottom lip.

She smiled against his touch, then spoke, her voice laced with mischief. "Hey, you know what we should do?"

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Enlighten me."

Her eyes lit up, an idea forming. She placed her hands on his waist, looking up at him with a cheeky grin.

"How about this," she suggested, "we have ourselves a little pampering day. I'll give you a massage, and we can watch some trashy TV. How does that sound?"

His eyes widened in surprise, not anticipating such a suggestion. But the idea of having her hands on him, taking care of him, was definitely appealing.

"A massage, huh?" he said, feigning nonchalance. "And what's in it for you?"

She moved even closer, her hands slipping under his shirt and trailing lightly across his bare skin. "Oh, I get the pleasure of seeing you all relaxed and blissed out. Trust me, it's a win-win."

Ghost fought to keep his cool, the shivers her touch was sending down his spine betraying his nonchalance. "You're lucky you're cute," he said, his hands snaking around her waist to pull her closer.