#but yeah I have thought about touching myself

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Valentine's Day | Sebastian Sallow x OC

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day friends ❤️ I’ve been working on this in preparation and didn’t manage to get it done for the big day (was a little busy myself….) but a few hours late isn’t so bad right??? I hope y’all enjoy!!

Words: ~6,500

Tags: Smut, Size Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff, Chonky Seb Supremacy

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Sebastian blinked the sleep from his eyes as he reached for his coat, yawning as he slung it over his shoulders. It had been a long week—longer still considering how little sleep he and Evangeline had been getting.

Not for the usual reasons, no.

At nearly eight months pregnant, Evie’s discomfort had reached an all-time high, and between the endless tossing and turning, the nighttime cravings, and the occasional sharp jab of their child’s ever-growing limbs, neither of them were getting much rest.

Sebastian didn’t mind, though. If anyone had a right to be miserable, it was his wife.

Still, he hated leaving her in the mornings, knowing she hardly got a moment’s peace.

As he turned back toward the bedroom, he found her exactly where he’d left her—curled on her side beneath their blankets, the soft glow of the morning light making her long dark hair shimmer against the pillow. She stirred slightly when he leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Mm, you’re warm,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she nestled deeper into the sheets.

He chuckled. “Don’t tempt me, love. I have to go.”

Evangeline cracked one eye open, squinting at him. “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Sebastian smirked. “And?”

“And,” she said, stretching, “I had this wild hope you’d stay in bed with me all day.”

The thought alone sent a pleasant warmth through him, but he shook his head with a sigh. “If only. We both know that’s not happening.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way home, yeah? We’ll have a quiet night in.”

It wasn’t much. Not by his usual standards. But nowadays, Evangeline could barely sit through a meal without shifting uncomfortably, and the idea of forcing her into a dress or making her endure a busy restaurant felt cruel.

Evangeline only hummed, eyes fluttering shut again. “Mhm. Quiet night.”

Sebastian took her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm before squeezing it gently. “Get some rest, love.”

With one last glance at her, he pulled away and stepped out of the room, completely unaware of the wicked little smirk she wore as soon as he was gone.

Tonight would be anything but quiet.

The moment Sebastian was out the door, Evangeline threw off the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed—only to immediately regret it.

“Merlin’s bloody beard,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her belly as their child made their displeasure known with an insistent kick against her ribs.

Right. Moving quickly was no longer an option.

With a sigh, she carefully pushed herself upright, resting a hand against the small of her back as she stood. The house was quiet in his absence, but that wouldn’t last for long—not with what she had planned.

She had one goal today—to remind Sebastian that she was still his wife, not just the mother of his unborn child. Not that he had ever made her feel otherwise, but between the exhaustion, the swollen ankles, and the ever-growing weight pressing on her spine, she hadn’t felt particularly desirable in months.

Tonight, she was going to change that.

And the first order of business? A long, hot soak in the bath.

She drew the water until it was steaming, infusing it with a touch of lavender and chamomile, hoping to ease some of the tension in her back. As she lowered herself in—slowly, carefully—she let out a long sigh, resting a hand over her belly as warmth seeped into her aching limbs.

“Now, you behave,” she murmured to the tiny troublemaker in her womb, who had been shifting and stretching all morning. “Let Mummy enjoy this, just for a little while.”

For once, their child seemed to cooperate, and she took full advantage of the moment, soaking until her fingers pruned and the haze of exhaustion lifted. By the time she emerged, she felt almost like herself again.

From there, it was a matter of putting her plan into motion.

Step One: Sweets.

Sebastian had been indulging all of her strange cravings for months—pickled plums at midnight, treacle tart with extra clotted cream, and that regrettable week where she insisted that everything had to be spicy. He never complained, never refused her, but his favorites had been sorely neglected in the process.

She intended to make up for that tonight.

It had been ages since she’d last baked—standing for too long made her back ache, and even with magic, there were limits to what she could manage. But today, she was determined.

Sebastian deserved something special, and if that meant pushing through a little discomfort, so be it.

With a flick of her wand, the kitchen came to life. Flour sifted itself into a bowl, eggs cracked mid-air, and the rich scent of melted chocolate soon filled the room.

Evangeline propped herself on a stool, watching carefully as the ingredients mixed. It wasn’t quite the same as doing it by hand, but she supposed she could allow a little magic to help her along.

After all, she had plenty more to prepare before her husband got home.

Step Two: The Bedroom.

Sebastian would have a heart attack if he knew she’d been moving around so much. He was protective to the point of hovering, constantly insisting she rest, that she take it easy, that he could handle everything. And while she appreciated it (mostly), tonight need to be perfect.

So, she ignored the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like his, telling her to sit down, and instead focused on tidying their bedroom.

Freshly washed sheets were a must—their usual ones were soft, well-loved, but she wanted something crisp, something luxurious against her skin. With slow, careful movements, she stripped the bed and replaced everything with the set she’d picked out days ago in a rich, deep shade of red,

Then came the lighting.

A flick of her wand sent enchanted candles floating into place around the room, their flames flickering softly, casting a golden glow that made the space feel impossibly warm, impossibly intimate.

She paused, surveying the room as she rubbed slow circles over the curve of her belly. Almost there.

The pillows were next. She propped them just so, ensuring she’d be comfortable later, because if she had her way, she wasn’t leaving this bed for the rest of the night. Sebastian could protest all he wanted, but she knew him well enough to know that once he was sufficiently distracted, he’d forget all about lecturing her.

By the time she finished, she took a step back, admiring her work. The sheets were smooth, the lighting was perfect, and the air held the traces of chocolate and cinnamon from the sweets cooling in the kitchen.

A satisfied hum escaped her lips.

Step Three: Herself.

Evangeline sat at the vanity, regarding herself in the mirror as she brushed through her hair. The candlelight cast a warm glow over her features—softer now, rounder. Pregnancy had reshaped her body in ways she was still adjusting to, filling out her curves even more, her face slightly fuller, her skin more luminous.

Sebastian never said anything negative—never. If anything, he looked at her with something like awe, as though he couldn't quite believe she was real. But she knew him. She saw the quiet concern in his gaze when she struggled to stand, the way he watched her at night when she winced from an ache or a sharp jab from their baby.

She understood. He worried. He always worried. But she missed the way he used to look at her with heat in his gaze and unguarded hunger. The way he used to drag her into his lap at the end of a long day without thinking twice.

Tonight, she was going to remind him.

Her fingers trailed over the scattered makeup pots on the vanity, her mind drifting to the most recent Gladrags catalog that had arrived by owl post. The latest Parisian fashion had captured her attention—women with darkened eyes, deep red lips, a striking, elegant boldness that made her want to try something new.

She reached for the small pot of eyeliner first, dipping a careful brush inside before sweeping the dark pigment across her lids, elongating her lashes and sharpening the shape of her eyes. It was bold. Dramatic. Almost too much—until she imagined Sebastian’s reaction.

A smile curled at her lips as she reached for the next touch: lipstick, deep crimson, almost too rich against her pale skin. It made her lips look fuller, plusher.

He wouldn’t be able to look away.

The thought sent a shiver through her as she leaned back, admiring her reflection. Good. Perfect.

From the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, she pulled out the package she’d hidden days ago—lingerie, soft and lacy, designed specifically for her new figure. It wasn’t something she would have ever considered wearing before, but when she’d caught sight of it during a shopping trip with Poppy, something about it had called to her.

And now, she understood why.

Sebastian had been patient. Sweet. Careful. He treated her as if she were delicate, precious—like glass, ready to shatter at the slightest misstep. And while she loved him for it, respected him for it, she was tired of careful.

Evangeline changed slowly, fingers skimming over the sheer fabric as she adjusted it around her belly. The material fluttered over her skin, accentuating every curve, every soft swell that had once made her self-conscious but that Sebastian had always adored.

Her pulse thrummed with anticipation as she settled onto the bed, propped up by pillows, waiting.

Sebastian wasn’t expecting this, but she knew he wouldn’t complain.

Sebastian rolled his shoulders as he stepped up to their front door, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. It had been another long day—paperwork, training drills, the usual Ministry nonsense—but at least it was over now.

And he wasn’t arriving home empty-handed.

In one hand, he balanced a takeaway bag filled with their dinner—roast lamb and buttered potatoes from Evangeline’s favorite bistro, along with an extra slice of treacle tart because he knew she’d been craving it lately. In the other, a bouquet of roses, their petals a deep, velvety red that shimmered faintly in the light.

It wasn’t much. It would have been more in different circumstances.

Before pregnancy, he would’ve planned something grander—a candlelit dinner at some overpriced restaurant, maybe even a weekend away. But that wasn’t an option now, not with Evangeline so far along. She could barely sit through a meal without shifting uncomfortably, and he refused to make her suffer through an evening of forced romance just because of some arbitrary holiday.

No, a quiet night was best.

Sebastian exhaled, adjusting his grip on the bouquet before nudging the door open with his foot.

“Evie?” he called, stepping inside, shaking the lingering cold from his coat. “I’ve got dinner, love. And before you say anything, yes, I got extra dessert.”

Silence.

His brow furrowed. Usually, she was curled up on the sofa by now, dozing in the warm glow of the fireplace, waiting for him with some book half-finished in her lap. But the house was still. Too still.

Something flickered in his chest—not worry, exactly, but something close to it as he stepped deeper into the house.

A faint, sweet scent lingered in the air, a mis of vanilla, chocolate, and cinnamon.

Sebastian stepped into the kitchen, takeout bag in one hand, bouquet still clutched in the other, only to stop short at the sight before him.

The countertop was covered in sweets.

Cookies shaped like hearts, delicate pastries drizzled in chocolate, tiny tarts dusted with powdered sugar—all neatly arranged on red and pink doilies, as if plucked straight from the window of a high-end bakery.

His brows lifted, surveying the sheer effort that had gone into it all.

Merlin’s bloody beard.

Evangeline hadn’t baked in weeks—not since standing for too long had started making her back ache, not since she’d taken to spending more time on the sofa, exhaustion settling deeper with each passing day. He hadn’t minded, of course. If anyone deserved to put her feet up and be doted on, it was her.

Which made this all the more baffling.

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he stuffed the takeout into the fridge.

Of course she had gone and done this. Baking all of this for him when he would have been perfectly content with a quiet night curled up beside her, rubbing slow circles over her belly while she drifted off in his arms. But no—Evangeline never did things halfway.

His gaze flicked toward the faint glow spilling out from beneath their bedroom door own the hall.

She was probably already asleep, candles still flickering, too exhausted to even blow them out after all the effort she’d put in today. Merlin, he really needed to talk to her about that—what if she set something on fire?

Sebastian sighed, stuffing a bite of cookie into his mouth, his heart tugging as he imagined her curled up in bed, fast asleep, the scent of flour and vanilla still clinging to her skin as she waited for him to join her.

His chest ached with something warm, something fond, something so wholly his that it sent a rush of warmth up his throat.

Still chewing, he padded quietly down the hall, roses in hand, intent on pressing a kiss to her temple, whispering his thanks against her skin before wrapping himself around her for the night.

But when he pushed the door open—

The half-esten cookie nearly fell out of his hand.

Because Evangeline was not asleep.

No, she was very much awake, sitting up against a pile of pillows, watching him with a smirk.

The dim glow of the candles cast a golden halo over her bare shoulders, over the sheer lace that clung to her body, over her winged eyeliner, the deep red of her lips.

Sebastian froze. His brain simply stopped functioning.

His jaw tightened, his pulse roared in his ears, and he barely managed to chew the last bit of cookie before swallowing it down in one dry gulp.

Evangeline’s lips twitched.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

Sebastian said nothing.

He was too busy trying to breathe. Too busy staring at her, the way the sheer fabric draped over the swell of her belly, the way it hugged her curves, the way she looked—

Sweet Salazar.

The bloody cookies were irrelevant now. He was about to have a new favorite dessert.

His grip on the bouquet tightened. “Evie,” he rasped. “What—”

“What?” she interrupted, feigning innocence. “Did you think I’d be asleep?”

Sebastian blinked. “Yes,” he said honestly.

She laughed, soft and lilting, before beckoning him closer with a crook of her finger.

Sebastian obeyed before he even realized he was moving.

His feet carried him forward on instinct, the roses slipping from his grasp onto the nearby dresser as his hands twitched at his sides, aching to touch her.

“Merlin,” he breathed, eyes dragging over her, drinking her in like a dying man crawling toward water. The dark liner around her eyes made her gaze sharper, smoldering. The red of her lips—Merlin’s bloody beard, her lips—was so rich, so inviting, that he nearly lost himself in the thought of kissing her senseless then and there.

And the lace. The damned lace.

It clung to her in ways that made his throat go dry, sheer fabric stretched over the heavy curve of her stomach, teasing at the edges of her thighs, her breasts, her hips. He had seen Evangeline in every state imaginable—soaked in rain, smeared in dirt, draped in fine silks and ballgowns, tangled in his sheets with nothing at all. But this?

This was going to be the death of him.

“Do you like it?” she asked, tilting her head.

Sebastian let out a laugh, but it was breathless, strangled, a little desperate.

“Like it?” His jaw clenched as he reached out, fingers tracing over the lace at her hip before pressing his palm to the swell of her belly as if reminding himself of everything she had given him—was still giving him.

“You—” His voice cracked, rough, raw. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Evangeline hummed, the corner of her lips tugging up in amusement. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he murmured, his hand finding her thigh, smoothing over soft, warm skin.

She gasped, barely a breath of sound, but he heard it, and hell, if that didn’t set his blood on fire.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above hers. “You know I love you exactly as you are.”

“I know,” she whispered, her hand rising to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “But I needed this.”

Sebastian let out a low groan, his forehead dropping against hers as his restraint wavered—thin, threadbare, fraying by the second.

"How badly?" He asked, his voice low.

Her nails scraped gently against the back of his neck as she tilted her head, letting her lips barely ghost against his own.

“Very badly.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips—just enough to make his hand press firmer against her thigh—she whispered, “More than you can imagine.”

Sebastian let out a ragged breath, his jaw tightening as he felt her—warm, soft, pliant beneath his touch, the sheer lace doing absolutely nothing to shield him from the heat of her.

“You’re not too tired?” he asked, because even now, even now, some part of him was still desperate to make sure she was comfortable, that she wasn’t straining herself, that she meant this.

Evangeline huffed, her hands gripping the front of his shirt. “Sebastian Sallow,” she murmured, “if you don’t fuck me into oblivion, you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Sebastian choked on a breath, his entire body going taut as a smirk curled at the corner of her lips. Smug. Teasing.

Wicked, wicked woman.

His woman.

Sebastian kissed her—properly, thoroughly, with every ounce of pent-up desperation that had been simmering beneath his skin for weeks. Evangeline gasped against his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, devoured it.

He groaned against her mouth, shifting to cage her in, the sheer fabric of her lingerie teasing against his knuckles as he let his hands roam—from the soft curve of her thigh, up to the generous swell of her belly, then higher still, tracing the edges of lace and silk and sin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You are unfair.”

Evangeline only smirked, breathless, her lips deliciously red and kiss-bruised already. “And you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, “are wearing far too many clothes.”

Sebastian let out a rough, ragged sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You know,” he mused, as his hands found her hips, “I should be lecturing you right now.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“For exhausting yourself,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “For standing on your feet too long, for making all of that.” His eyes flicked toward the door, toward the kitchen filled with sweets, before dragging his gaze back to her. “And this?” His fingers skimmed along the lace barely covering her swollen breasts, his thumb grazing her nipples just enough to have her breath hitch. “This is just cruel, love.”

Evangeline hummed, tilting her head, utterly unfazed. “Mmm. I think you like it.”

He huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead against hers. She was right. He was hopeless, absolutely bloody hopeless for her.

He kissed her again, slower this time, deeper, savoring the way she sighed into him, the way her hands traced over his shoulders, moving to working at the buttons of his shirt.

Sebastian let her push the fabric aside inch by inch until her hands met bare skin.

Her nails dragged lightly down his abdomen, tracing the softer flesh there. He hadn’t looked quite the same since they’d gotten married. Somewhere between settling into their life together and indulging in Evangeline’s baking (when she wasn’t too exhausted to stand), he’d grown thicker, broader. His shoulders had filled out more, his arms stronger, his stomach softer,

And it had only gotten more apparent.

It felt as though her pregnancy had started rubbing off on him, as if all those late-night cravings and extra servings had settled into his frame just as much as hers.

And Merlin, the way she looked at him now. She was completely feral for him like this.

He had figured it out months ago when that old green flannel refused to button properly. He had stood in front of the mirror, frowning, tugging at the fabric like it was the shirt’s fault, like he could will it to fit the way it once had.

He’d hated it.

Until Evangeline had looked at him, taken him apart with nothing but a slow sweep of her gaze and proceeded to ride him within an inch of his life, whispering absolute filth against his lips about how good he looked, how much she loved him like this, how unfair it was that he could gain weight and only get stronger, thicker, better.

So now, when her hands slid over the bare plane of his stomach, when her thumbs smoothed along his waist with something bordering on reverence, he let her.

Evangeline hummed in approval, her eyes dragging over him, drinking him in. "Fuck," she muttered, shaking her head as she trailed her fingers lower, pushing his shirt off his shoulders completely. "Look at you."

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on her hip. “You act like you don’t see me every day.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, smirking. “Not like this. You’ve grown, Sebastian.”

He let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a scoff and a groan. “What, like I’m the one carrying a bloody child?”

Evangeline laughed, shameless as ever, her eyes dark with something heated, something hungry. “Doesn’t matter. You’re—fuck.” Her hands slid down to his waist, gripping him with a possessiveness that sent heat rushing through his veins.

Sebastian swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over her lips. “You like it,” he murmured, smirking when her fingers flexed, digging into his sides. “You really like it.”

Her lips curved. “Obsessed, actually.”

Her fingers skimmed lower, curling at the waistband of his pants, her gaze dark and hooded as she took him in—half clothed, flushed, breath coming in uneven gasps as he hovered above her.

Sebastian huffed, his hands tightening at her hips, fingers pressing into the softness there. "You’re looking at me like you want to eat me alive."

Evangeline smiled. “And what if I do?”

Sebastian pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze molten, heavy-lidded. “You sure you can handle this, love?”

She huffed a breathless laugh. “You’re the one who should be worried about keeping up.”

He groaned at the way she rolled her hips up, seeking friction, seeking him.

“Bloody hell, Evie.

She was insistent now, pupils blown wide, her hands tugging at the buckle of his belt like it was the only thing standing between her and salvation. “You’re still too dressed,” she whined.

Sebastian let out a ragged breath and grabbed her wrists, stilling her frantic movements. “Easy, love,” he murmured, voice hoarse, teasing. “You’re going to tear it at this rate.”

Evangeline huffed, her chest rising and falling with each desperate, panting breath. “Then help me,” she demanded, squirming beneath him.

Sebastian swore under his breath, his hands flying to his belt to help her. If she kept whining like that, he was going to lose what little restraint he had left.

"You have no idea what it’s like," Evangeline continued, her voice half a whimper, half a plea. "You can reach yourself whenever you need to. You don’t have a bloody beach ball in the way stopping you—” She let out a sharp, frustrated sound. “You have no bloody idea, Sebastian."

Sebastian stilled, his blood running hot, his cock twitching at her words, at the pure, unfiltered need in her voice.

She hadn’t been able to touch herself. Hadn’t been able to soothe the ache, to take the edge off. Had been suffering with no relief

And yet, fuck, if that wasn’t the single hottest thing he’d ever heard, because she needed him.

“Jesus Christ, Evie,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against hers as his belt hit the floor, careless, forgotten, clinking against the hardwood as he let her pull at his trousers, dragging them down as far as she could before he kicked them off himself.

Evangeline let out the most obscene little moan as her hands found the bare skin of his waist, gripping, pulling, claiming.

Sebastian nearly lost his mind.

“You’re killing me,” he rasped.

“Good,” she whispered, breathless, her fingers already tugging at his briefs.

His hands moved to help her, fingers curling over hers as they tugged at the fabric, working together in frantic, needy little tugs until the fabric wa s gone, kicked somewhere onto the floor, utterly forgotten.

A sharp inhale left Evangeline’s lips, her gaze dropping, her eyes darkening at the sight him. Her thighs trembled, her fingers flexing against his waist like she was fighting the urge to drag him down, to take him without a second thought.

He gritted his teeth, exhaling through his nose as he pulled back just enough, just barely, enough to see her properly, enough to take her in. And sweet Salazar, she was—

Splayed out beneath him, curves plush, full, sheer lace draped over her body in a way that made his chest ache with something more than just need.

Her belly rose and fell with each shallow breath, her thighs pressing together like she was trying, failing, to soothe the ache between them on her own.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, dragging his fingers up her thigh, spreading her open. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Laid out so pretty for me.”

Evangeline whimpered, her hands fisting the sheets.

Sebastian dipped his head to press slow, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down her throat, across the tops of herbreasts.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin, dragging the lace between his teeth. “Every single fucking inch of you—mine.”

“Sebastian,” she gasped, voice breathy, trembling.

He lifted his head, locking eyes with her, his lips curling as he braced himself above her, his hand smoothing over the curve of her belly, reverent and possessive.

“How do you want it, love?”

"Hard," she begged, hands fisting against his shoulders, nails dragging down the bare muscle of his back. "Fast—Sebastian, I need—"

The way she looked at him—flushed, desperate, completely at his mercy—sent heat flooding through his veins, scorching, unbearable.

"You're insatiable," he murmured, voice thick with amusement, even as his own self-control frayed, his cock twitching at the way her thighs trembled for him.

Evangeline whimpered, her hands tightening around him, pulling, pleading. "You have no idea."

Sebastian growled, dipping his head, pressing his mouth to the curve of her belly, to her ribs, to her breasts, dragging higher until they found the sensitibe , flushed skin of her throat. "Oh, I know, love," he murmured, his tongue flicking over her pulse "You’ve been waiting for this all day, haven’t you?"

She moaned, her back arching, her thighs spreading wider, offering.

"Impatient thing," he murmured, voice full of praise, adoration, his lips ghosting over hers as he lined himself up over her thong, teasing her, drawing it out. "You need me that badly?"

"Yes," she gasped.

"Bend over for me, then."

Evangeline let out a soft, desperate little sound, her fingers clawing at his shoulders. "Sebastian—"

He smirked, pressing a kiss to her throat. "Come on, love," he murmured. "You wanted it hard and fast—wanted me to ruin you, yeah?"

She gazed at him through half lidded eyes, her head tipping back as she nodded, her hands tightening in his hair.

"Alright, on your knees for me, then."

Evangeline whimpered as he helped her roll over, shifting her hips, pressing her chest against the mattress, her hands curling into the sheets.

Sebastian ran a reverent hand down the length of her spine, his fingers splaying wide, possessive, before dragging down to the soft, plush curve of her ass.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hands tightening over her hips as he settled behind her, his cock straining, aching, twitching.

Evangeline shivered, letting out a soft, needy moan. “Sebastian, please—”

"Shh, love," he murmured, his hand trailing lower, fingers pressing into the plush, thick curves of her thighs before teasing over the damp lace between them, his breath catching when he felt her, warm and soaked and waiting for him.

“Fuck, Evie,” he groaned. “You’re dripping for me.”

He slid his fingers beneath the lace, dragging his knuckles against her clit, watching the way her body jerked, the way her lips parted in a strangled cry.

Sebastian's cock twitched at the sight. He wanted to tease, wanted to drag this out, to worship her properly, but—fuck, she was so gone, so desperate for him, and who was he to deny her what she needed?

He pulled back just enough to tear the lace from her body, tossing the ruined fabric aside without a second thought.

“Sebastian—”

“I’ll buy you another one,” he muttered, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder before tightening his grip on her, lining himself up again, pressing his cock against the slick entrance of her.

“Alright, now deep breath, love,” he murmured, voice thick and dark with promise.

She nodded against the mattress, humming in response, and then, finally, finally—

He rolled his hips forward in one slow, thorough stroke.

Evangeline shattered beneath him, her breath catching in little, broken gasps as she felt him—deep, stretching her, filling every aching, empty part of her.

His hands roamed, feeling and worshipping every inch of her as he buried himself to the hilt, seating himself deep inside her, stretching her in the way only he could.

She was so tight, and wet, velvet-soft, and fuck—he was barely keeping himself in check.

But he had to.

She was pregnant, swollen, full with his child, and as much as his instincts screamed at him to move, to take her, he needed to make sure she was comfortable, that she relaxed, adjusted—

Evangeline let out a frustrated little sound, "Move," she demanded, er hips rolling back against him, trying to force him deeper.

"Easy, love," he tried, voice rough, wrecked. "Need to make sure you're—"

Evangeline snapped.

“Sebastian fucking Sallow, if you don’t start moving, I swear I will—"

He hips flicked forward.

Evangeline moaned, her body jolting, her back arching as he filled her, as he gave her exactly what she was begging for.

Sebastian growled, his hands steadying her, holding her, making sure she had nowhere to go, nothing to do but take him.

"That what you need, love?" he managed, his voice breathy, dark and dangerous.

Evangeline let out a wrecked little whimper,her ass pushing back against him. "More," she gasped. "More—"

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers digging into her waist as he rolled his hips into hers again, this time harder, this time sharper, enough to pull another sweet, perfect moan from her lips.

The rhythm he set was devastating, pulling out just enough to feel the tight, wet drag of her before pushing back in, seating himself all the way inside her, making sure she felt every thick, aching inch of him.

“You’re taking me so well, love,” he breathed. “So fucking tight for me.”

Evangelin groaned as his fingers slipped beneath her belly, feeling the soft, round swell of it, the warmth of their child nestled between them. And Sebastian felt it—the way she was melting beneath him, surrendering, letting him take everything she had to give.

"Doing so well, love," he murmured, dragging his hand lower, his fingers finding the most sensitive part of her and rubbing tight circles.

“Sebastian—" she sobbed, "fuck I'm—"

“Come for me, Evie,” he whispered, his fingers pressing harder against her clit. “Come for me, love.”

And like the good girl she was, Evangeline fell apart.

Her whole body shook, her thighs trembling as her climax crashed over her, pleasure wracking her in sharp, overwhelming waves. She gasped, choking on a sob as her fingers clawed at the sheets, her back arching, her body clenching down around him, dragging him deeper, holding him tight.

Sebastian swore, his grip on her bruising, his own control snapping like a frayed wire.

"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, his voice rough, reverent, ruined. "That's my girl—

Evangeline moaned, her breath catching in little, shaky gasps as he kept moving, rolling his hips into hers, working her through it, drawing every last bit of pleasure from her until she was nothing but a boneless, shaking mess beneath him.

Sebastian was right there, hanging on the edge, teetering, his whole body taut as he chased his own end, lost in the heat of her, the feel of her.

"Evie," he ground out, his fingers sliding up her belly, his palm splaying wide over the curve of it—

Fuck.

With a deep, shuddering groan, he followed her over the edge, his vision blurring, his body shaking as pleasure crashed through him, hot and overwhelming as he spilled inside her, filling her in the way he knew she loved.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, the aftershocks rippling through them both as Evangeline melted onto her side, warm and sated.

He followed her into the sheets, his arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her against his chest, and Evangeline sighed a soft, contented sound

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love," Sebastjan murmured against her skin, pressing the softest kiss to her shoulder.

Evangeline let out a breathy little laugh, tilting her head just enough to catch his lips with hers in a slow, sweet kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Sebastian grinned against her mouth, nipping at her lower lip before pulling back. His hand smoothed over the swell of her belly, fingers tracing slow, reverent circles over her skin, feeling the warmth of her, the weight of them, of the little life growing between them.

His.

His Evangeline. His wife. His home. The mother of his child. His everything.

"You doing alright?" he murmured, voice thick and lazy.

Evangeline hummed, her body melting further into his. “Mmm. More than alright.”

Sebastian chuckled, pressing another kiss to her neck. "Good. Because you're not moving for a while. You've done enough today."

She huffed a laugh, threading her fingers through his where they rested over her middle. “You act like I could, even if I wanted to.”

Sebastian grinned, utterly wrecked in the best way possible.

They stayed like that for a long moment—warm, tangled, utterly content, until—

Her stomach let out a loud, insistent growl.

Sebastian snorted, burying his face in her hair, his chest shaking with laughter.

Evangeline groaned. “Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, pouting as she tucked herself further into the pillows.

Sebastian grinned, pressing a teasing kiss to her shoulder before rolling away, dragging his briefs back on and padding toward the kitchen.

"Stay put, love," he called over his shoulder, smirking as he went back for the takeout bag he'd abandoned earlier. "I've got dinner—and extra dessert."

[bcksbarnes]

snipped

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky is feeling plagued by his past so he asks you to cut his hair.

word count: 1.2K

genre: fluff, sad!bucky

bucky wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to do this, unfortunately his hair had been apart of him for so long that it was like an extension of himself. it was both a mask that represented a time that he wished to forget, and a reminder of the better human he needed to become. but, the thoughts of the tragedies he caused while looking the way did weighed heavy on his mind. he already spent most of his nights woke up with nightmares from his time as the winter solider, he couldn’t continue looking in the mirror and feeling the same way as well. 

“hey,” he says as he walks into your bedroom, leaning against the doorframe while he watches you lay in bed. when you don’t respond right away he calls your name, causing you to look up from your phone with a small blush on your cheeks. 

“sorry, nat’s on a date and i wanted to see how it was going.” you respond, placing the phone next to you on the bed. 

“did she answer?” he asks, a small smile on his face as he watches you. 

“yeah, she said he’s boring. what else is new.” you tease, your eyes raking over his face. it only takes you a second to realize he’s uneasy. “what’s wrong?” 

you two had been together long enough that it didn’t take much for you to know when bucky was upset or thinking about something. his usual quiet and brooding behavior was always met with small quirks like tapping his foot or biting his top lip when there was something on his mind. this time it was the former. 

he sighs as he kicks off the door frame, moving to the edge of the bed and sitting down, still an arms length away from you as he tries to think of how best to approach the topic. 

“can you cut my hair?” he lays it out, his fingers picking at a piece of lint at the bedspread, feeling sheepish as he doesn’t meet your eyes. he’s embarrassed by this for some reason. he’s cut his own hair before, usually when he was on the run and was able to find a rusty pair of scissors, but that was usually just a trim and now there’s something about the meaning behind this that makes it hard for him. 

your gaze softens as you hear his request, sitting up further on the bed as you wait to see if there was anything else he was going to say. when you were met with silence you speak up. 

“of course i can.”  

bucky looks over at you, his smile had faded a few moments ago and now all he could think about was how this was going to feel. liberated? angry? happy? he wasn’t too sure, and maybe that’s what scared him the most. 

he had done horrible things as the winter solider, things that he could never forgive himself for, but life was different now. he was deprogrammed, he was helping people, he met you and he was starting to feel like he was allowed a life of not always having his demons follow him around. he was ready to move forward. 

“hey.” you move off the bed to stand in front of him, your hand moving to gently grab his chin and tilt his head up towards you. “we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, bucky.” 

he sighs softly at your touch, his hands moving to rest at your hips as he pulls you a bit closer, your legs slotted between his. it’s intimate and full of affection, you two always know how to keep your touches light but meaningul. 

“i am ready.” though he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself by saying it out loud. “i think ... i’m ready to stop torturing myself every day with the reminder of my past. i want to move forward. i want to show myself that i’m capable of moving forward.” 

your heart aches at his words because you will never understand the pain he goes through everyday, but there was nothing that was going to stop you from supporting him. your hand moves from his chin to cup both of his cheeks, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. his grip on your hips tighten a bit as you hear him let out a shuttering breath that he had been holding in. 

his hands move up to press against yours, keeping your touch on his face close for a moment as he relishes in the comfort. and despite popular belief, bucky barnes needed comfort. 

it’s a few minutes later that the two of you are in the bathroom, bucky is sitting on a folding chair he managed to find and you had both the scissors and clippers ready to go.  

“are you sure?” you stand behind him as he sits, your hands on his shoulders as your gazes meet in the mirror in front of you. he nods his head softly, saying everything that he’s incapable of verbalizing in that moment. “okay, i’ve only cut hair like once so if it comes out bad don’t hate me for it.”  

bucky cracks a small smile before he closes his eyes, letting out one last deep breath before you get to work. a comb works through his long hair one last time, getting all the knots out as you place it in a short ponytail.  

the metal scissors are in your hand and you whisper a soft you got this to him before you begin to cut. it takes a second to cut through it all but before you knew it you were holding onto most of it in the ponytail. it was shorter, shaggier, needed to be buzzed down and given a little height – but he looked good. different, but good. 

you can feel the way he shifts anxiously while you use the clippers, having to tell him to stop moving on a few occasions so you didn’t accidentally cut him, but it’s over almost as soon as it starts, his eyes still closed tightly not wanting to look until the finish product. 

your hands find their way back to his shoulders once you put your tools down, taking a moment to admire your work and how different he looks. you bring your lips down near his ear. 

“you can open your eyes, buck.” 

a beat passes and you can tell he’s nervous to but he has to face it at some point. one last deep breath leaves his lips before his eyes flutter open, landing on the mirror in front of him. 

he doesn’t speak for a minute, his eyes taking in his features and his new defined haircut. it looks great, if you say so yourself, but in that moment he’s hard to read and you’re not sure what he’s going to say. 

bucky rests his elbows on his knees and his head drops forward, your hand soothingly rubbing his back. when he looks up again his eyes are red and teary, the moment obviously catching him off guard with how much it would mean to him. 

“how do you feel?” your voice is soft, keeping the both of you grounded in this moment which you know he appreciates.  

a tear slips from his eyes and he runs a hand through his freshly cut hair. one word slips through his lips. 

“free.” 

[berfgrimm]

sharp dressed man | choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

pairing: choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral, cheating, deepthroating, dirty talk, friends to lovers

note: this is a request that i promise started out as white haired Seunghyun. then i remembered this performance existed and i panicked. i’m so sorry but I hope you enjoy!!

———————

You have to know what Seunghyun tastes like. The thought is stuck in your brain like it’s a broken record, repeating over and over. You shouldn’t think about it. You’re both seeing other people, albeit very casually, and on top of that, you’ve been friends for years. Still, the loop plays in your head because of one stupid fucking gesture.

Your friends invited you to their performance on Inkigayo, and of course you accepted the invite; you loved to see them on stage, in their element. What you didn’t expect, however, was to watch Seunghyun grab a handful of his crotch mid-performance. A handful. The crowd screamed and you would have too if you didn’t feel like you were going to pass out.

But why? Who cares that Seunghyun grabbed himself? Why should it matter to you? If anyone asked it definitely didn’t matter to you, and you did not think about it for the rest of the evening. But now you find yourself alone in a dressing room with Seunghyun, and it’s the only thing on your mind. His bandmates had decided to get dinner after the performance, but Seunghyun stayed behind; you opted to stay with him, to see if you can will yourself to stop feeling like this. After twenty minutes of near silence, Seunghyun finally speaks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you look at him quickly. He has a look of genuine concern and it’s the first time you become aware of how you may be presenting yourself in that moment. Your body feels tense and your face tight, having been more focused on your thoughts than your appearance.

“Uh, yeah, I’m cool,” you reply, relaxing your shoulders and straightening out your back. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been acting strange all night,” he pushes. “You weren’t like this before the performance. Did you think that it was bad?”

“What? No, not at all!” You turn to face him, pulling one of your legs up onto the sofa with you. “I love watching you guys perform,” you continue. “I have no complaints.” The last part was a lie; if you were in the right state of mind, you’d tell him off for making you feel even a fraction of what you’re feeling right now.

“I can tell something is off about you,” he insists. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“I’m fine,” you say, with a smile. You realize that you have your hand resting on his thigh, and have no idea when you placed it there. “Fuck, sorry,” you say, retracting your hand as if it was on fire. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“Hey,” he laughs, turning to you and grabbing both of your shoulders. “Calm down. You look like you’re—”

You kiss him. Fuck, why did you kiss him? You pull away almost as quickly as you kiss him, and you can’t bring yourself to look in his eyes. You feel your heart pounding and your eyes water, panic setting it.

“Fuck, I am so fucking sorry, Seunghyun,” you say, shaking your head looking down at your lap. “I don’t…I don’t know why I did that. I mean, I know why, but I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. I have no idea what came over me. You were out there on stage and you touched yourself like that — I don’t know! I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Fuck, I’m sorry.” You ramble so much, you don’t give him the opportunity to say anything in response, but his hands still hold onto your shoulders.

“You…” Seunghyun begins to speak but he trails off for a moment, and you can hear him pull in a slow breath. “I touched myself on stage, so you kissed me?”

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, your skin flushing and the weight of his hands now becoming unbearable. You shove his hands off of you and stand from the sofa, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. “My mind started to just…wander,” you continue, pacing back and forth as you still refuse to look at him. “I don’t know why; I can’t explain it. I watched you touch yourself like that, and I wanted to know…what you would feel like, and what you would taste like. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. If I could not feel like this, I would. Trust me. I don’t like to feel out of control like this. Now, all I keep thinking is how I want you to talk dirty to me, like you could say whatever you want, I wouldn’t care. I need it to be nasty. I shouldn’t…fuck, I shouldn’t have said that either.”

You can’t stop yourself from rambling, not until you finally lay eyes on Seunghyun. He still sits on the sofa like he was before, his eyebrows furrowed — he’s confused. You pull in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to try to stop yourself from shaking, which is a new development. You’d hoped that if you said everything you were feeling out loud, then you’d realize how it sounded and could just get over it, but now it’s worse. You feel like you’re going insane, completely embarrassed; you have to get out of this room before you do something stupid.

“I’m going to leave,” you say, taking a few hurried steps towards the door, but you feel Seunghyun lean to catch your wrist, stopping you. When you look at him, for a moment, he looks as torn as you feel, his eyes studying your face for something but then his expression changes.

“Lock the door,” he instructs. “Then get on your knees.”

All of the blood feels like it rushes between your legs, and you could realistically pass out. You lock the door quickly and move around to the front of the sofa to kneel down in front of Seunghyun parted knees. You’d never noticed how slender his fingers are but now as his hands unfasten his belt, you can’t help but pay attention. He keeps his eyes on you as he unbuttons his pants and drags the zipper down, untucking his shirt in the process. Seunghyun pushes the waist of his pants down enough so slip his other hand inside of his briefs so he can wrap his fingers around himself.

“You know that I’ve been seeing someone,” he begins, pulling his hardening length from the confines of his tight pants. “But you don’t care about that? You don’t care that I’ve been sleeping with someone else, do you?” He’s not really asking, but is almost degrading you for wanting to blow someone who’s taken. It shouldn’t be hot, but you love how his voice sounds.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, your eyes trained on his hand that slowly strokes his cock.

“Haven’t you been sleeping with someone, too?” Seunghyun continues, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a small smirk. “Is he not taking care of you? Is that why you’re crawling to me like this?”

“I can’t…” You shake your head, unable to come up with any response that will be remotely reasonable.

“This is all you can think about?” Seunghyun nods his head towards his lap, and you immediately nod. Of course he smirks at your response — why wouldn't he be amused when you’re this pathetic?

Seunghyun keeps stroking over himself, making sure you keep your eyes on either his erection or his face. You can actually feel how wet you are and your first instinct is to touch yourself but that’s not really what you need. All you want is to feel him in your mouth, so maybe if you tell him that, along with some other stuff…

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste it,” you mutter, and you swear you can see Seunghyun falter just a little, his hand stuttering in one of his strokes. That’s when he stops, beckoning you over with a crook of his fingers; you don’t think twice, inching forward until you’re between his spread knees. You need to get a better view, a better way to get a grip on him.

The tremble in your hands is noticeable as you reach towards the waist of his pants. Your fingers curl around the fabric near his hips, catching the elastic of his briefs as well and tugging; Seunghyun lifts his hips enough to help you pull the material down to his thighs.

You start with his balls, massaging them gently for a moment before you wrap your free hand around him, near the base so you’re able to angle him just a bit. You drag your tongue from the base all the way to the head of his cock, the tip of your tongue taking special care to tease the dip where his shaft meets his head. He sighs, spreading his knees just a little wider to welcome you in.

Your tongue swirls around the head of his member, before you spit over him carefully so you can get him slick. You stroke slowly at first, your hand enveloping every inch as your other hand sets on his thigh. You flick your tongue over him to get a taste of his precum and already you feel yourself desperate to go faster to get to taste even more. You take his tip into your mouth, sucking on his gently, your hand shifting to massage his balls softly again.

“Fuck,” Seunghyun mumbles, so quietly, you almost miss it. You lift your gaze to meet his, blinking as innocently as you can manage while you take him just a little deeper into your mouth. His gaze is unflinching, focused on the way his cock enters your lips.

Your hand moves higher now, wrapping around the base of his shaft again and slowly stroking to meet what you don’t take into your mouth. It feels so good to have him in your mouth, listening to the way his breathing changes as you quicken your pace just a little — so you whine.

“Is this turning you on that much?” Seunghyun asks, his hand cupping your jaw to lift your head up, causing him to drop from your mouth. Your hand picks up the slack, stroking him fully at the same pace but adding in a small twist with each pump. “You were moaning on my cock,” he says, his thumb rubbing over your lips. “You didn’t even realize it. You’re strung out on a little bit of precum, and you’re hungry for more, hm?”

“I love giving head,” you say, slightly breathless as you gently bite the tip of his thumb. He smirks, pressing his thumb between your lips and past your teeth; you keep your eyes on him as you suck softly on his thumb, all while you still stroke your hand over his length.

“I think you just love having something in your mouth,” Seunghyun suggests, and you grin around his thumb. He pulls the digit out of your lips with a pop, and you tease the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around slowly.

“The feeling of a big, hard cock shoved into my throat, making me choke on it,” you press, an animalistic feeling overtaking you. “It’s like a fucking gift. I feel like I’m being rewarded.” You notice the way Seunghyun’s thighs clench when you speak so you keep your eyes on him, slowing down the movement of your hand and instead leaving kisses nearer the head of his cock.

“Is that what you want right now?” he asks, voice low and raspy. “You want me to reward you?” It makes your mouth go dry, the lazy way he speaks, so you swallow hard, which you’re certain he notices.

“If you think I deserve it,” you respond, placing another kiss to the head of his cock, just to tease him. Seunghyun lets out a huff of breath, breaking eye contact when he closes his eyes.

You take the opportunity to slip him back into your mouth, taking him deeper this time. Your mouth begins to do most of the work, bobbing up and down so you can take him deeper into your mouth. Your hand strokes what you aren’t what you’re not prepared to take yet. Seunghyun lets out a small groan, slightly strangled like he’s trying to keep quiet. That’s not what you want; no, you have to hear what you’re doing to him, you need his moans.

Your hand on his thigh shifts between his legs, massaging him again, and you feel him fucking twitch in your mouth. It makes you moan and that does it; he starts to groan deeper in his chest, the sound coming through clearer this time.

“You love giving head, hm?” Seunghyun asks, his voice deeper now but shaky as he tries to stay composed. “Are you already wet just from having me in your mouth like this?”

“Mhm,” you hum around him, and his hips twitch involuntarily, shoving them upwards so he forces himself deeper into your mouth. When you gag around him, Seunghyun takes hold of your head, pulling your head back so he can peer into your eyes. “Fuck, don’t make me stop,” you plead, panting and desperate. “I was just getting to the good part.”

Seunghyun smirks at your words, and brings his hand to your jaw again, slipping his thumb between your lips and past your teeth. You take the hint and open your mouth for him, awaiting your next instruction.

“Wider,” he mutters, and you listen, feeling yourself get wetter from the tone of his voice alone. “Wider. If you want it deep, you’ll have to make room for it.”

God, why does that make you whimper? Was it even sexy, or are you that overwhelmed with desire? That’s for you to figure out later, because now you have to open your mouth as wide as you can for him, sticking your tongue out. Seunghyun places his hand on the back of your neck, near the base of your skull, urging your head down to his cock again.

You take him into your mouth, not quite all the way, but you hold him there for a moment, hollowing out your cheeks. You slowly pull back, applying the same amount of suction as you go until you only have his tip left.

“You were begging for it and now you’re teasing,” Seunghyun chuckles, breathlessly. You pull him out of your mouth and purse your lips to blow cool air over his tip just to watch how he reacts; his thighs tense and he lets out a huff of breath, giving you a warning glare.

As you move to take him into your mouth again, you notice a smirk on Seunghyun’s lips. You bob your head faster, taking him even deeper and deeper, your saliva dripping from your mouth and coating his cock. You didn’t realize that you were salivating like this for him, that you would be this pathetic when you finally got a taste, but right now, you don’t care.

When he starts to reach the back of your throat again, you moan in excitement, gently scraping your teeth over him just a little and he inhales sharply through clenched teeth. He grabs the back of your head, guiding you down to keep taking him all the way to the back of your throat. You gladly relax to be able to accept the intrusion he presents and take him over and over as you bob faster.

“F-fuck,” Seunghyun stutters, gripping your head firmer and pressing.

You take him deeper, the absolute most you can and fuck, you’ve never had anyone push your throat to the limit like this. You struggle to keep him there as long as you can, your gag reflex fighting against your efforts, but you grab his thighs, your fingers clenching as you struggle. Your eyes begin to water, feeling your limits begin to break, your gagging becoming more difficult to ignore.

“Jesus,” Seunghyun moans, still holding your head until finally you can’t take it anymore. You squeeze his thighs to signify for him to let you go, and he does, allowing you to sit up.

You cough, and swallow, trying to calm your reflexes but tears still trickle from your eyes. Seunghyun cups your face with both hands, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes. He looks unlike you’ve ever seen him, overcome and desperate to find some semblance of composure. You breathe hard, trying to catch your breath but you get lost in his eyes for a moment, finding slow breaths even harder to reach.

“You’re sexy like this,” Seunghyun whispers, wiping some of the tears from your eyes. “On your knees, choking on me.” Your hand grasps his cock, stroking at the same pace as before, but you keep your eyes locked with Seunghyun’s, watching the way that he struggles to keep his gasps and moans quiet.

You sit up higher on your knees now, resting taking his hands and lacing your fingers together so you can pin his hands onto the sofa cushions. You open your mouth and flick your tongue over his tip for one more tease before you take him into your mouth again. This time, you go fast, using only your mouth and the motions of your head; you bob quickly, taking him all the way to the back of your throat each time.

You can tell he’s getting close. The way he can’t keep his legs still, his hips thrusting up to drive himself deeper into your mouth. His moans sound so fucking good, the sexiest noises you think you’ve ever heard. Your panties feel absolutely drenched, your nipples are fucking hard, your head spinning because, fuck, watching your friend fall apart like this for you is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“You want me…fuck, where do you want it?” Seunghyun asks, his voice tight. You don’t answer because you need to keep him in your mouth. “God, you want it down the back of your throat? You want to swallow it?”

You hum an affirmative around him, and his grip on your hands tightens so firmly it hurts. You have to pull one of your hands free so you can touch him again, massaging him to help encourage him along. You feel the way he throbs in your mouth and you salivate even more in anticipation.

You quickly pump your hand over him, still sucking on what you can as Seunghyun’s moans grow louder, deeper, vibrating through his hips and into your mouth. Until he moans your name amongst a string of expletives, as he finally comes. You can’t help but moan because he taste salty, and sweet, and so fucking good. You keep working over him, pumping everything you can from him and swallowing every drop.

“Fuck, oh, my god,” Seunghyun groans, when start to slow to a stop. You pull your mouth from him, licking your lips as you look up at him. His cheeks are red, his eyes struggling to stay open, his hands in his hair; this is the hottest he’s ever looked.

You lick your fingers clean of what you didn’t catch in your mouth, savoring the taste of him one more time. You can see Seunghyun’s eyes following your movements carefully, the quick rise and fall of his chest beneath his silky shirt not slowing down. You grin, using the edge of the sofa to support your weight as you stand on your shaky legs.

You try to play it cool but you can feel how aroused you are as you walk towards one of the makeup tables to grab some towels. You wipe your face dry, trying to think of an excuse to leave because now you’re thinking about the conversation that might happen. You aren’t ready to discuss things; you’d rather savor the moment as long as you can and maybe never speak about it again. You’re not sure, but until you figure it out, you know you want to keep the upper hand — if you could call it that after how pathetic you acted. You move back towards Seunghyun to toss a towel onto his chest, then pull your phone from your pocket to pretend to read a text.

“You should get cleaned up,” you say, looking at Seunghyun. “Wouldn’t want that girl you’re seeing to find you like this.” He looks surprised, his jaw slack as he tries to think of something to say in response, but nothing comes out. “Thanks, this was fun,” you say, slipping your phone into your pocket again. “I’ve got to meet up with someone.”

You cross to the exit, disengaging the lock and pulling the door open without sparing him another glance. As you make your way through the building in search of the exit, you try to think of what outcomes you could face. A part of you hopes that you got this feeling out of your system and you won’t have to talk about this with Seunghyun again. But another part of you makes up a dozen different scenarios of what could happen the next time you see your friend. Either way, you know your next move is back to your hotel room to take care of this ache between your thighs before you change your mind and run back to that dressing room with Seunghyun to beg him for help.

[umikawa]

a/n: omg ANOTHER senku fic?? Sedate me. I went off topic in this fic and didn’t even try to redeem myself so 🙏 writing Stanley next, wish me luck

senku ishigami x gn!reader | no warnings, set at the end of the village origins arc. 970 wc. Lot of dialogue cause that’s just how I roll (｀_´)ゞ

Senku was tired. 

Thoughts raced in his mind at a mile a minute, never-ending and constantly sprouting. On paper, he was sure it’d mimic the nervous system. Each thought that crossed his mind bothered him to no bounds, leading him to sleepless nights where he would devise plans for any situation that could happen. 

Like how to handle animal attacks like the one with Taiju in the beginning. What to do if there were (somehow) a fish shortage. What the plan was if an unknown settlement comes suddenly to raid the village. What to do if the Tsukasa empire decides to take action first…

For once (more than he’d admit), thinking made his head hurt. A groan leaves his lips as he holds his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in an attempt to soothe himself. 

“Another late night?” 

He turns around slowly, watching with parted lips as you approach him, a tray with two steaming cups in your hands. “Yeah.” Is all that he can come up with, mouth running dry. He can’t remember the last time he stopped to have a drink.

“You know, for someone as knowledgeable as you, I’d hoped you know that sleeping can be very beneficial to your health.” Senku chuckles at your words, gratefully taking the cup of tea from your hands. “What’s got you so worked up?” 

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a long sip to mask his uncertainty. “I'm just thinking about how this whole thing will play out.” It’s not a lie; he is worried about how everything will go, but it isn’t what he hoped to say. Though, he isn’t too sure what he wanted to say in the first place. 

You hum, leaning against the edge of his workbench. Your eyes trail over the mess of scribbles on the papers in front of him to the notable bags under his eyes. “Have faith,” Senku nearly rolls his eyes. “Believe in your comrades, and everything will fall into place.” 

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the feeling of your hand holding onto his chin, blinking up at you with wide eyes as you tilt his chin. “You should rest, Senku. A general can’t lead an army with only a wink of sleep.”

He laughs to himself, shutting his eyes as he pulls away from your warm touch. “I know.” Is all he responds with. He knows you're right, but he goes back to the drawing board anyway, ignoring the irregular beating in his chest. “You can go.” 

His tone held no malice or annoyance at the blatant dismissal, his words gentle as he cast a glance your way. You’d walked away from the table, standing behind him now, likely to aid him in his next endeavor. 

Once again, Senku jolts at the feeling of your touch. Your arms wrap around his waist from behind, your head pressed in the space between his shoulder blades, and your fingers clutch the fabric of his tunic. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks. Voice strained to keep himself from shouting or worse– trembling.

“Come to bed, Senku.” You’d whispered, pulling on his tunic gently. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as the slightest bit of annoyance builds up. 

Not with you, with himself for ignoring his health to the point you were concerned. 

“Alright.” He sighs, turning around in your hold. You weaken your grip the slightest. Senku wonders if you thought he’d run away if otherwise. “Don’t worry, I won’t run.” 

“You’d better not, " you mumble, releasing him fully. Your hand slips into his, fingers intertwining in place. He felt like they were meant to fit together. Senku quirks a brow. “Just in case. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to get very far with your… stamina.”

He rolls his eyes, allowing you to lead him out of the lab. Twigs and dirt crunch under your steps as you approach his hut. His eyes trailed around the village, and a part of him was praying that no one was awake to see you and him together. 

Not that anything was wrong with that– it’d just be another annoyance he’d have to deal with. 

Senku blinks down at your intertwined hands. When was the last time he held hands with someone? Did he ever? A flash of Byakuya crosses his mind, and a smidge of sadness crosses his face at the thought–right, when they went to see fireworks. 

He figures the look was still etched on his face when you entered his hut. Your hand comes to his face, thumb brushing over his knitted brows. He ignores the touch, his eyes lifting to meet yours. 

Instead of asking him what was wrong, as he thought you would, you wordlessly pulled him into you, fingers carding into his hair and ruffling it around. He groans out a noise of protest, frowning at the wide smile on your face.

“There’s something wrong with you,” he says, rolling his eyes when you pinch his cheeks. “Ten billion percent.” You don’t say a word in response, only messing his hair up even more until it falls in front of his eyes. “You’re weird.”

You scoff at the insult, pinching his chin. “Yeah? And what are you, normal?” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the craziest guy in this village, Senku. I assure you.” He chuckles at your words, and only then does he realize what you’ve done for him. 

Tore him away from his work, successfully relieving him of his stress and calming his mind. 

Except his mind wasn’t calm, and a million thoughts swarmed his head the second he locked eyes with you again. Did you always make his heart race when you looked at him?

And when did you get so… pretty?

[starlightsuffered]

Wanna Bet

Warnings - SMUT, teasing, masturbation, lingerie, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, hand job, degrading, a bit of a sub dom dynamic (both roles for each), daddy kink, dry humping, over stimulation, unprotected sex, finger sucking, name calling.

"I was thinking the other day," Timothée began. We were cuddling lazily on the couch. I noted the cocky tone of his voice and I rolled my eyes. I was in for some teasing.

"You have never turned me down for sex," I could hear the pride and grin in his voice.

"Yeah, well, neither have you big boy," I said.

"It's different with you," he goaded. "I don't think you could resist me if you tried."

I pulled out of his arms and turned to my grinning boyfriend.

"Oh yeah," I asked.

"I'm pretty confident in my statement," he said, putting his hands behind his head.

"Wanna make a bet," I challenged.

"Sounds interesting."

"Alright, we'll see who caves from no sex first, but we can tempt each other."

Timothée leaned forward, interested in my plan.

"Okay, so let's set up the rules," he said, licking his lips.

"No touching erogenous zones as a temptation, that's cheating," I listed

"Alright. How about also we start slow and gradually ramp it up, more exciting that way," he continued.

"Sounds good," I agreed. Just the idea of this game was turning me on. "We also shouldn't get anything else involved. So like no flirting with someone to make each other jealous. It's just things we do."

"No problem," Timothée agreed. "I'll have you breaking within hours."

"We start tomorrow," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"Well, if we start tomorrow...." He trailed off.

"Take your pants off," I sighed.

***

The next morning I smirked as I went for a jog. Timothée always fucked me after a run. He loved seeing the sweat running down my body, he loved the way I gulped down water when I came back. I listened to my sex playlist to get me in the mood to be sexy for Timmy today. I got increasingly more wet as I thought of what he might do to tempt me.

I got home, waiting for Timmy to come downstairs. I gritted my teeth when I saw he was wearing my favorite pair of sweatpants, and his hair was styled perfectly. I wanted to fucking pull those curls but I controlled myself.

"Hi baby," I greeted. He smiled at me in answer. I went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.

"I just went for a run," I explained as I gulped down the cold water. I let some drops run down my chin onto my chest. When I put the bottle down, my partners eyes were on me. His eyes were dark and full of lust. I knew he wanted to take me right there on the counter.

Timothée sat down at the kitchen island. I noticed his fingers were completely decked out. He was wearing rings on nearly every finger. He was showing them off too, tapping on the island, spreading his hand out, clenching his fist and unclenching.

I walked purposefully to the freezer. I rifled through it to find what I was looking for. I grinned when I found what I needed.

I peeled the plastic covering off the popsicle. I stood on the other side of the island and sucked on the flavored ice. Slowly rolling my tongue over and around it, right in front of him.

"Mmmm so good," I moaned. I watched his eyes twitch as I continued to lap at the frozen treat. I could tell I was getting to him.

"Would you mind practicing this script with me," he asked, tossing the paper onto the table. I stilled, he knew how much watching him work turned me on.

"Certainly," I growled. It was hard as he said his lines with passion, I was shifting in my seat. I responded with equal earnestly, trying desperately to get him to give in. I was rubbing my thighs together as he said one of the most iconic lines of the movie.

"What's wrong baby," he taunted when I didn't say the next line right away. "Something, bothering you?" He asked.

"N-no," I stuttered and cursed myself.

"I just remembered I have to go shopping," I said, pushing the script to his chest. I was glad he looked surprised.

"You're leaving?" He asked.

"Yup," I responded.

As I drove I tried to think of all the ways I could tempt him. I knew a few things, but I wanted to up the anti. I needed to win this.

I got new lingerie at the store. I also picked up some essentials, but I made sure to get some sexy bras and other things to help my mission.

When I came into the house with my bags I hoped Timmy had not been plotting. I was disappointed.

"Hi angel," he said. "Sorry, my friend asked me to watch their kid while they ran to the store."

I was breathless. Timothée with children was so sexy. He knew all my weaknesses. I bit my lip as I put the bags down.

"I can take her, so you can rest," I offered desperately. He shook his head, insisting he was the one who had pledged to watch the child. I NEEDED to take the small girl from him or I'd pounce on him as soon as their parent came back.

I watched in agony as he laughed with the small girl. He read her a story. He even played dolls with her. She commented positively on his bejeweled hands and Timothée smirked at me as she did.

In thirty minutes, the parent came back, thanking Timmy for volunteering to watch the child. I sat on the couch just watching him.

"I think that counts as using someone else to tempt me," I snapped as he shut the door.

"Nah," he said. He sat down on the couch and stretched. I couldn't help but appreciate his body as he bent this way and that to crack his back.

"That tired me out, care to take a nap with me?" He asked. I knew it was dangerous, but I was insanely riled up. I needed to touch him in some way. I nodded. We went to bed together. Timothée could fall asleep so fast. I desperately tried to find sleep while his hard on pressed against my thigh and his breath ghosted my neck.

I got out of bed early, unable to take the contact anymore. I took a shower, but Timothée was awake when I came back in. I bit my lip.

"Hello, Mon Amor," he said sweetly. He came to me. He kissed me deeply and I realized I'd never made a rule about kissing specifically. I kissed him back, hungrily. I felt his hardness against me. I desperately wanted to love on him, but I also wanted to win.

"Have I ever told you, you are the light of my life?" He asked and I was shaking with need. He truly said the nicest things. I dropped my towel instantly.

"Oops," I said, and bent down slowly to get it. When I came back up I was happy to see his pupils blown out with lust as he watched my every move.

"Can I borrow your eyeliner," he blurted.

"Why?" I asked cautiously.

"Wanna try it on," he smirked.

"I don't know," I hedged

"Why, does me wearing eyeliner bother you in some way? Does it have an effect on you?" He asked moving closer. I mentally cursed myself, I couldn't even remember when I'd told him I liked him with eyeliner.

"Not at all," I said quickly and went to go get it. I knew I was going to have to work harder now. While I was getting my eyeliner, I also sneakily grabbed my vibrator as well from my desk drawer.

"Here you are," I pressed the eyeliner into his hand forcefully. I was still naked and his eyes roamed my body once before exiting to the bathroom.

A/N- so this is where I interrupt you. I have split this into two parts. One where Timmy wins and one where you win. Please read the one you want, or both :)

Timothée wins

Before I could continue my plan to get on my lingerie, Timothée called for me from the bathroom.

"Can you wait a minute?" I asked desperately.

"Nope!"

I mumbled something about impatient actors as I made my way to the bathroom. My mouth dropped open when I saw what he'd done.

"Thought I'd try this on again," he smirked.

He was wearing his Oscar's outfit, complete with eyeliner. He must have remember we'd had some of the best sex of our lives when he'd shown me what he was going to wear. I was nearly drooling, my arousal pooling in my panties.

"Fuck it," I said and grabbed him by his jacket to me. I kissed him hard, and he was smirking into the kiss, knowing he'd won.

"Timmy, please," I begged.

"Please what?" He pretended to be none the wiser to what he was doing to me.

"Fuck me," I pleaded. He was on me in seconds, slipping off the robe I'd put back on. I was pushed up against the bathroom wall.

I sighed contentedly into the kiss as my fingers wound into his hair. I pulled at his curls like I had wanted to all day. I was trying desperately to grind myself against him, trying to get some sort of friction.

"Soooo desperate," Timothée drawled darkly. "So needy for my cock."

"Yes, so needy," I whimpered in agreement. He shook his head and tutted, but reached down to insert two fingers into me.

"Timothée," I screamed. He was laughing now, so cocky, so damn proud of himself. I couldn't bring myself to care as he began to move his fingers in and out of me.

"So wet, and I've hardly done anything. You must really like me," he taunted. I nodded eagerly as he curled his fingers.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided. "I'd like words please, tell me how I make you feel."

"So good, so good daddy," I knew the name would rile him up. He growled low in his throat, fingers picking up their pace. He pressed his thumb to my clit and I moaned, legs shaky.

"More, tell me more," he egged me on. "Who do you belong to? Whose slut are you?"

"I'm your slut, I'm your whore, I don't want anything but you, I need your cock!"

"No," Timothée replied, as he continued to massage my clit and move his long fingers in and out of me. "Say my name."

"Timothée," I gasped as his other hand came up to play with my nipple. "I belong to Timothée."

"That's right baby," he cooed. "Couldn't resist me could you? Couldn't stop getting wet for me, all for me eh?"

"Yes, all for you, only for you," I panted. He bent down to take my nipple in his mouth. I was moaning, desperately trying to grind against his hand. His fingers hit a sweet spot inside me and I cried out as I tumbled into oblivion.

He removed his hands from me before I could react, and then he was on his knees. I gasped as his tongue came in contact with my heat. My legs were shaky but he braced his hands on my thighs.

"Tim?" I questioned, but he didn't answer. He continued to slurp and lap at me expertly.

"You're so good at that," I moaned, head leaning back against the wall.

"You're going to make me come again!"

A few more swipes of his tongue and he caused my orgasm to crash into me. My legs shook furiously as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me. My walls clenched on nothing as he removed his tongue.

He was still smirking cockily as he wiped his mouth and stood up.

"Please," I begged.

"Please what Mon Amor?" he teased. "I can't read minds. How can I know what you want if you don't tell me."

"You know what I want," I clung to him in desperation. "Fuck me. Fucking impale me with your cock. I want you in me, so deep, please. I need you."

My words had made his jaw clench. He smashed his mouth against mine. He was grabbing handfuls of my ass. He shrugged off his sparkling, lacy jacket. Next came his pants and my mouth was watering at his hardness.

"On your knees," he demanded.

"But daddy, I want you inside-"

"Knees first," he commanded, knowing I'd do whatever he wanted. I dropped to my knees and took his long, thick length into my mouth. His hands were pulling at my hair as I worked on him.

"That's it baby girl, just like that, fuck."

I was gagging, saliva running down my chin. I moaned so that vibrations ran up his cock. I wanted him to feel good. I wanted to worship his cock like he deserved.

"That's enough," Timothée groaned, and I popped off him.

"Come here baby girl," he coaxed, and I was more than willing. I stood on quivering legs. He massaged my nipples as he rolled his hips into me. Finally, finally, he was sheathed inside me.

I cried out as he began to move. Only he could go so deep. Only he could fill me so full. As he moved he sucked on my neck and I pulled on his hair in bliss.

"Look at you," he chuckled. "So dreamy," he ran a finger over my cheekbone as I whimpered.

"I was right wasn't I, you can't live without my cock."

"You were right Timmy, can't breath without your cock. I want you in me all the time. I want your cum so bad. Will you cum for me?"

"I may," he said, and I whined. He moved his hand down to my clit.

"I think I want you to come first though," he said.

"Too much," I moaned, as overstimulation took over.

"S'not too much, you can take it baby. You're so good for me. You want to please daddy don't you?"

"Yes!" I gasped, in seconds I was experiencing my third orgasm of the day. My walls were clamping down on Timothée's cock and he moaned before spilling into me. I was rewarded by hearing him pant and moan as he fucked me through his own orgasm.

Finally, we both stilled, breathing hard and looking at one another. Timothée moved forward to kiss me gently.

"I love that you can't resist me," he murmured against my lips.

You win.

As soon as Timmy had left the room, I got out the bag from the store. Quickly, I put on the lingerie. I grabbed my vibrator and laid on the bed.

"Ohhhh," I moaned as I pressed the tip of the vibrator to my clit. Relief washed over me as I finally got some sort of pleasure.

"Timothée," I groaned out. My boy sped back into the room, eyeliner only half done. His mouth fell open at the sight of me.

"That's right Timmy, just like that, oh, oh," I was putting on a show, but it did feel good. He had licked his lips at least a dozen times. His eyes were wide as I continued to moan and squirm, my breathing fast.

"Arg," he growled running a hand through his hair. "Fuck it!"

He pounced on the bed, snatching the vibrator from my hand, turning it off, and tossing it somewhere.

"You don't need that," he snapped.

"Oh," I taunted. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm a million times better," he said.

"Prove it," I goaded.

He completely removed my lacy thong that I'd pushed to the side for my activity. He was kissing and sucking up my thighs making my breath hitch. Then he was diving in. He was feasting on me. His tongue was like magic as it swirled in me, tasting, and lapping, and sucking.

"Good boy," I praised as I put my fingers in his hair. I pushed his head down, grinding against his mouth. I moaned his name when the cord inside me snapped. I was seeing stars as my orgasm washed over me. I swear I could even feel the pleasure in my teeth.

Timothée lifted his head, my juices covering his mouth. He was staring at me so hungrily I nearly shivered.

"Come here you." I said. I pulled him to me and then flipped us so I was on top. He laid under me, eyes following my every move. I began to circulate my hips grinding down on him. He was so hard beneath me.

"You like that?" I asked and he nodded with a moan.

"So hard, you been hard all day baby?"

"Yes," he gasped with need.

"Look at you, so desperate," I chuckled. "I bet I could make you cum in your pants from just this."

His eyes were squeezed shut with pleasure, but I saw him nod ever so slightly. I grabbed his chin with my hand, making him look at me as I dry humped him.

"Suck," I ordered as I placed my fingers near his mouth. He gladly took them into his mouth, sucking on them as I ground against him.

I moved off of him, pulling my digits from his lips. He whined at the lack of contact.

"Hold still," I ordered and grabbed the eyeliner he'd left on the bedside table. I held his jaw tightly as I finished his task for him. He obediently, didn't move.

"There you go," I said, and began pulling down his sweatpants. He sighed with relief when I pulled down his boxers. He was so hard I nearly gasped as he sprung free. I began to moved my hand up and down his length as he squirmed and moaned.

"Needy huh?" I said with mock compassion.

"Yes," he panted.

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" I asked.

"Want you to fuck me. Want to be inside you. Need to feel your pussy," he begged and I chuckled.

"So what you're saying is, you can't resist me?" I challenged.

"N-never," he stuttered as he bucked up into my grasp. He was rewarded by me straddling him and sinking slowly down onto his cock.

"Oh fuck," he nearly shouted.

"I love how big you are," I complimented as I began to move. I bounced on his cock and he was a mess of moans and half formed words.

He lifted his hands to my lacy bra, feeling the peaked nipples underneath. He somehow managed to get it off so his hands could knead and massage my breasts.

"You're so worked up baby," I laughed as I rode him.

"You're so wet, so tight," he praised.

"See I knew you wouldn't make it. You're such a whore for me."

"Yes, use me," he begged. "Fuck me anytime you want, anywhere. Make me yours over and over again."

I groaned at his words and leaned down so he could take my breasts in his mouth. I continued to ride him though my thighs were burning. I lifted up off him to the tip and slammed back down. He cried out.

"I'm gonna cum, baby you're gonna make me cum," he whimpered.

"Then cum," I said. "Show me how good I make you feel."

He fucked up into me and with three more thrusts he was gone. He was whining as he emptied himself into me, moaning and mewling from his pleasure. He looked so desperate I came after him, my walls clenched him delicately.

He stilled as he came down with heavy breaths. I smirked down at him.

"You didn't even last a day."

[luckypunklemonade]

2/14

“Second guess these words of mine, I always thought that I’d be fine with you. But ever since we crossed that line…”

[Implied smut MDNI 18+; friends to lovers; mutual first time; 2k words] You made a decision with your best friend, Stiles Stilinski, that it was logical to be each other's first time. After all, you trusted each other, and, well, it made you both safer.

an: I love this concept, but I wanted to get this out today, so It's sort of rushed, sorry :( Happy Valentine's Day :)

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

It started just so we could both get out of the victim pool. Another supernatural event killing off virgins. Shocker. So, naturally, I proposed the idea to Stiles. One of my closest friends who also happened to be a virgin. I trusted him, had known him for years, and knew he’d also hopefully see the logic in it. It’s not like he could make fun of me. I’ve seen him say and do much more embarrassing things. I won most debates because of that. It was starting to become a problem now that it had happened, though.

“Do you remember what this hieroglyphic is?”

Studying a new round of killings in Beacon Hills, the category was Egyptian, and the suspect was a Sphinx demon. Having had a bit of a fixation as a child, I could be of help. 

“What does it look like?” 

“A bird–a stork.” 

I leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, my hand pulling his shoulder back toward me so I could get a better look. I got the answer out, “Amenophus,” but his cologne cut me off after that. The scent only reminded me of him in my bed, softly and awkwardly humming to try and make it less awkward as he tried to figure out how to take my bra off. He was sort of hugging me, his head next to mine as he peered over my shoulder at his own hands, fiddling with the clasp. He laughed, “I can’t figure this shit out. I don’t know how this is allowed. It’s like a Chinese finger trap.”

I laughed into his shoulder, glad he could tell I was nervous and that he wasn’t making it a big deal. “It’s nothing like that. Here, I can–”

My heart seemed to drop with the weight of anxiety as I felt him finally succeed. He noticed, holding the bra together between my shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just nervous.”

“Hey, me too.” I scoffed. He was more likely excited or just wanting this to be over. Stiles tilted his head and brought it back to look at me. “I’m serious. You couldn’t feel my hand shaking? Why do you think I had so much trouble undoing this freaking restraint?”

“Oh, so you’re otherwise an expert?”

“I can figure out a Rubix cube, puzzle boxes, secret Celtic runes; I think I can figure out how to take off a bra.” “You saw it in porn.” Stiles leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, an embarrassed frown audible in his answer, “Yup.”

Now, all I could notice were things that made me think about him above me in my bed. The way he sat down on Scott’s couch, getting comfortable by pushing his hips up to settle back down into the seat. I realized just how determined he was in his endeavor with me when I noticed his ‘focused’ face the other day and matched it to the one he was making as he stared down at me. He would scratch his forearm, and I’d think of him sliding it beneath me to help me get comfortable, and then his voice as we talked each other through the nerves.

We’ve been close for forever, but I never realized how often I touch him mindlessly until it felt like static every time I did it. My hand twitched as it rested on his back, for the first time wanting to ease up to the back of his head and play with his hair. A lot of things were the same, and it just felt like I was the problem. I felt like I was reading too far into my own emotions. Of course, I’d be a little frazzled and attached to my first time, but I had to remind myself I see him every day. He’s one of my best friends. This confusion will blow over.

Valentine’s Day was coming up. He should get you something, right? I mean, yeah, you guys aren’t dating, but you were each other’s first time. You were best friends. Does this qualify as friends with benefits? He wished he had asked before things settled back into normalcy–when he woke up with your head on his chest. It’s the week of. He could use a conversation with you about this. Friends for seven years, he knew Valentine’s Day was your second favorite holiday behind Halloween. Not because you’d ever had a valentine, but because you loved the definition you gave it. You did that to everything. Even if there was a preconceived understanding, you defined everything. He might’ve been the only one to notice. He loved your version of Valentine’s Day. You dress up, you curl your hair, do your makeup. You take the morning to get yourself coffee, listen to music, and be with yourself. You always came back with donuts for your friends because the day was about love in every aspect. 

He needed to do something. Love in every aspect, right? Even in the weird, unsure, sort-of-still-stuck-on-you-when-he-shouldn’t-be way? He was a little late to be planning too much. You weren’t really a candy or chocolates girl; seven years of friendship, and you only had a select few stuffed animals; you liked to read, but the only thing he knew about the romance genre was that you didn’t read it often because it was getting more and more difficult to execute correctly. So, you stuck to the books you both needed to blow dust from, certain classics, banned books, and miscellaneous genres on your “To Be Read” list.  Whatever he did, he was going to try and be cool about it.

He spent the day before Valentine’s Day in his kitchen practicing. The sheriff came home to his son washing a sink full of dishes and trying to force-feed him his dish. When his critique was satisfactory, Stiles let his dad go to bed and kept washing dishes. He set his alarm a little earlier than usual and went to bed, reassuring himself that he should show you he was thankful. You kind of made sure he wasn’t brutally sacrificed and, of course, that he got laid. And he did learn a few things about sex. Everything real so far, actually. Now that he thought about it, everything he knew was applicable to you. It wasn’t just girls in general who liked it when he made sure their hair was out of their face, it was you, and he did it because he knew you didn’t like your hair in your face. He was going to have trouble associating sex with anyone else for a while, at least. Or thinking about much else around you. 

Of course, you took a late start from school, which left Stiles to think about you and what he should do for you more. When you showed up, he was in the hallway talking to Scott, walking down the stairs. He stopped talking, not at all helping Scott’s already unbearably correct assumption that you and him slept together. He stared at you as you glowed your way through the hallway. He stared at your red lipstick and the ribbon tying your hair out of your face, a job he wanted to do instead at that moment. How satisfying would it be if he walked down that hall and slung his arm around you? How good would it make him feel to walk around that day with a red kiss print on his cheek? On his neck. All over his goddamn face if you felt like it. 

You saw him and grinned, holding up a bag of donut holes. He nodded, swallowing the urge to call you “honey” down. Partly because that was weird and partly because “Sunshine” fit you better at that moment. Before you reached him and Scott, you handed out the respective treats to Lydia and Allison, checking in on them once again after the latest test to the pack’s mental health. By the time you turned back to them, he was already following Scott to meet you. 

His hands kept waking me up. On the sides of my arms, on my hips, my shoulders. I kept sitting up in bed and missing the feeling by milliseconds. It wasn’t ceremonious by any means, but it meant a lot to me. Not just because he did it, but because of how he did it. He made sure it felt right. He didn’t lose me in awkward silence, he encouraged me to speak up. After a while, I did the same. It was awkward, but I knew it would be. We just laughed it off. His fingers didn’t go through my hair smoothly at first, but he took the time to brush them out. I didn’t quite know how to lie down for him, but he had made me comfortable enough so that I felt okay asking. “Here,” he said as his hands guided my shoulders down, cradling my head before it hit the pillows. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t ask for it. I wanted to pull him down by the back of his neck and feel him kiss my head deeper into the pillows. His hands would wander further and get distracted, and he’d let go and forget the reason we were doing it in the first place. We were holding hands. He was mumbling questions for me as he lined himself up. Why shouldn’t I know what he tastes like? 

You’re wearing the smile you always have when you do something nice. A little flustered as you hand people gifts or compliment them. The smile that kept distracting him when you walked up the bleachers with his number painted on your cheek. It was only the second game he was starting in, but he had your full support, even in the freezing weather. Lacrosse season is in winter, which is also sick season. You got sick this year, of course, and you showed up to two games with a cold. He met you after the game, trying not to cough on any proud parents. He was sweating, and you were shivering. With a congested cough, you gave him a thumbs up, and he sent you home to get some rest.

Now, you had a content look on your face, sort of like how you looked when you slept, watching your friends dig into your gifts. Stiles started walking, tapping your shoulder and nodding his head toward an empty classroom. You followed, not without hearing your friends giggle. When you both got away into the classroom, he turned quickly.

“Come to my house tonight. I don’t know if it’d be weird, but I sort of have this whole thing planned. If you think it’s weird, you don’t have to come, I just wanted to find a way to- to thank you, but if today wasn’t the right move–” “You planned something?” “I know just because we had sex doesn’t mean we’re dating. I know we didn’t do it because of that, but I keep getting this feeling like I…”

He stared at you, not worried about ruining the friendship, but terrified you didn’t feel how he felt. “I feel like I want us to be dating after. I know it’s probably because it was my first time and I feel attached or whatever.”

“You feel that, too? I thought it was just– well, yeah.”

“You–” He watched you nervously stare at the ground. 

“You know we never kissed? You were my first time and we never kissed.”

“I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Me neither.”

Stiles leaned in and you knew. He kissed you gently, just pressing his lips against yours before you pulled away, eyes widening. “Oh, shit.” You wiped his mouth with your sleeve, your red lipstick nearly staining his chin. You made sure to wipe as much as you could off without smudging it. Stiles flinched away and stopped you, “I want it.”

“I got it all. You can’t walk around like that. Am I good?”

He checked for smudging and softly wiped the side of your lip, “You’re great. I can walk around like that and proudly, too. Watch.”

You stopped him before he could kiss you again, laughing away the flush in your cheeks. He saw it regardless. “Uhm…Here. This’ll be more managable.” 

You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it, leaving your red kiss print on the back of his hand. Stiles admired it for a good thirty seconds before beaming up at you. When you promised to kiss him the right way at his house that night, he finally nodded and followed you back out into the hallway. 

I opened the door and took my shoes off, hearing a small sound of panic from within the house. Stiles had heard me come in, running around the kitchen on a mission. Sitting where he told me, I was faced with two generic three-wick candles. He doesn’t exactly own a candelabra, I smiled to myself. Stiles had the food plated, he was just cleaning the area before bringing it out. I stood up to help, laughing when he whipped around and ordered me to stop, but continued into the kitchen. I didn’t stop laughing as I slipped past him to grab a few miscellaneous things off of the counter or when he took them out of my hands and backed me against the counter. “Stay there,” He said as he turned to put more utensils in the sink. He turned back to hold my shoulders because I was moving again. I smiled and caught him off guard, pressing my lips to his. 

Admittedly, I should have been more considerate and wiped my lipstick off, but I liked the idea of how he’d look. His hands went slack on my shoulders, dropping to my waist. My nerves surged when I felt him hum into my lips. My heart rushed when he took the chance to deepen the kiss, the enthusiasm he put into it pushing my head back into his hand. I mirrored his movements as I slid my hand up to his shoulders. His face was tight with eagerness when I pulled away. He swallowed, lips pressing together. I then noticed my lipstick smudged across his mouth. It strayed above his lips in a hazy pink. I could only imagine what I looked like. I held in a laugh, which he met until we couldn’t. My laugh lasted longer while he focused on the red smeared on my chin. He pulled out his phone, holding it up to his face to take a picture. 

“C’mere,” He mumbled, pressing his cheek to mine and snapping a picture of our mouths, both messy with my lipstick. I hid my face until he led me to my seat again, taking away my napkin so I knew he wanted us to sit together and eat with both of our mouths covered in smudged lipstick.

[starlene]

Anne of the Island Book Club: Chapter 14

Okaaaay.

Faced with Ruby's dying fears, Anne feels "it was difficult for [her] to speak to any one of the deepest thoughts of her heart" – but even so, she deals with Ruby better than I think many professional therapists or theologians would.

Maybe it's because I've always been of the socially awkward sort myself and thus I cannot understand how anyone as young as Anne here can be anything but a fumbling mess with other people, let alone in a literal life-and-death situation... but even if I disregard that knee-jerk reaction, I feel like for a 19-year-old who gets upset when people post constructive criticism in her Wattpad comments, Anne is unrealistically good with people.

We've already seen she's brilliant with children (or at least, brilliant with Davy), and now, she's also brilliant with the dying. I mean, good for Ruby, it's great that she can have this conversation and pass away peacefully – but yeah, I just kinda feel like Anne is exhibiting quite a lot more wisdom and/or people skills here than you'd expect of someone of her age.

~

I also want to say that I think the part where Anne thinks about Ruby's attitude towards life, "She had laid up her treasures on earth only; she had lived solely for the little things of life" etc., is a bit... uuuuggghhhh.

In my mind, no matter how religious you are, a 19-year-old dying of an incurable disease is a tragedy, and said dying 19-year-old feeling upset about it is not indicative of some kind of a character flaw.

Ruby expresses sorrow that she'll never get the chance to be a wife and a mother. I don't know, I'm neither religious nor do I dream of becoming either of those things myself – but I feel like having to give up your dream of having a family because you're dying at 19 is always awful, no matter whether you've been a hopeless flirt all your life or an extra pious model Christian. The narrative paints Ruby as unreasonable here, which I think is incredibly unfair.

Oh well. It is what it is; I guess some ways, this book is simply very much a product of its time.

~

Anyway, I don't think this chapter is all bad, it's just incredibly heavy-handed when it comes to delivering the moral of the story. I've always found the description of Ruby dying touching, I think "And, while light feet danced and bright eyes laughed and merry tongues chattered, there came a summons to a soul in Avonlea that might not be disregarded or evaded" is a beautiful way of putting it.

I'm from a culture where open-casket funerals are not a common thing, so a a child, and to some extent even know, Ruby in an open casket and especially Avonleans talking of the sight of her for years afterwards (!) feels macabre to me. Macabre, and just plain weird.

"Ruby Gillis was the handsomest corpse she ever laid eyes on" – who says that!! I mean, yeah, Mrs. Lynde does – but really? The handsomest corpse?? Maybe it's just a culture difference, or maybe Mrs. Lynde is overstepping some boundaries here even in the original context, but to me, that feels like such a disrespectful thing to say it's making my skin crawl.

~

In any case, I think it was an especially interesting experience to reread this chapter an adult.

As a nine-year-old, I think I just read through this thinking, uh-huh, makes sense, if you're pretty but not intelligent in life then death will fix that, yeah.

Nowadays, I vibe with Diana feeling uncomfortable at the end of the chapter. You and me both, girl. You and me both.

[rosicheeks]

Of course we want you to get all wet and needy in your car, maybe you’ll touch yourself and get off where someone could see you

No no consent is the most important thing so I would never want someone to actually see me

[that1notetaker]

Hi, I'm bad at talking to people, especially online, but I make comics and maybe it'd be nice to read what you people think, so I'm putting myself in the void? Will it echo or will it engulf me and regurgitate silence?

[changelingeyes]

Augustus: the Changeling's autism service puppygirl that is also autistic <3

[oxymoronicdumbass]

sometimes i get these thoughts that i think are universal, and then i think “wait that’s not universal, that’s just a symptom of ocd” and then i shove that thought aside entirely because i don’t feel like dealing with that right now

[colourfullanguages]

look i love being a humanities student and all, but constantly debating everything and criticizing societal norms and views in every single lesson gets tiring really quickly. and today my prof said that most humanities academics are on the more liberal side of things. which is not at all surprising. but being too liberal is not necessarily a good thing.

it gets to a point where it's just like there is no right and there is no wrong. it just is. everything is just is.

[dreamsy990]

drawing the first two ocs i ever cared about, ft the one who i made to vent and inspired my username, and the one i accidentally ended up in the exact situation of. its been like 10 years since i came up with them but i still think about these two. might draw gijinkas of them or redesign them or something

[autisticcole]

Heheheheheho I have gotten some of the Dragon Age books (🏴‍☠️) and this is gonna really let me dig into some stuff, especially my favorite guy Cole, cause now I can read his OG appearance, I want to see how much stuff Cole says, especially during his quest actually makes sense, and how much is in-universe "both sides are right"ing about not listening to what Cole wants to do.

I am mainly talking about Spirit!Cole thanking Inky for not making him change... Despite the fact that thoughout Cole's quest Solas ignores what Cole wants (Like being binded) & wants to do (Kill the guy who beat beyond beating a 12 (at most) year old (most likely, it isn't outright stated (to my memory) the Templar who fucked up the paperwork was also one of the ones who physically abused him, but I feel it's a pretty safe assumption) & got that child killed due to neglect & faced no consequences) but ultimately the choice that causes Cole to thank the player for not changing him is the one where you listen to Solas over Cole (Or well Varric, who also doesn't let Cole do what he wants but is closer to what Cole would have done if he had went alone for the confrontation) & in this route I would say Cole's character changes a lot more, especially as he forgets the original Cole, which... Rubs me wrong, but I'll save my more detailed thoughts for 1. After I fully read Asunder & 2. Either a full Cole analysis or a detailed post about my thoughts on his quest & routes (& maybe how I'd rewrite them, as a Autistic person & a ally to the aroace community)

Anyways my point is that I want to see how true it is characters rejected or wanted to change Cole, I want to see what leads him to feel that having two men argue & tell him who he is supposed to be & do only to have a third person decide out of those two's options for what he should do is remotely a situation where he's been accepted.

[tchotchkez]

😮‍💨

[sorry for the hardcore tag rants, y'all]

[skrunksthatwunk]

still thinking about how one of my first yyh meta posts got reblogged onto an sjw cringe comp blog in the year of our woke 2022. truly tumblr dot com, the last bastion of progressivism, has fallen (<- sarcasm) and also i'm kinda baffled that they didn't choose like. me putting yusuke in a skirt or something