#he's such a sweetheart and he wants to help out everywhere with everything it comes so naturally to him

[ruvviks]

thinking about yancey and his people pleaser attitude

[softspokendove]

Sit on my lap

parings: innocent!reader x rafe cameron

summary: you’ve always had a thing for Rafes thighs, but you can’t control it anymore.

warnings: smut, thigh riding, hickeys, reader is super horny, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, pretty girl), and a lot of wetness.

a/n: this is my first time writing anything like this so hopefully you enjoy!

“Hey baby.” You feel Rafes arms wrap around your waist and pull you towards him, the rest of his body spread out and sitting down on your white couch. “I’ve missed you.” He mumbles his words into your tummy as he presses his face into your shirt, inhaling your smell.

You’ve been out all day running your errands, which Rafe had practically begged you to allow him to come. you just responded with it being a girls day and you wanted some time alone with your girls. He reluctantly agreed and has been waiting alone at your house all day. To say he was excited when he heard your key turning in the keyhole was an understatement. He felt like a dog.

You run your fingers through his hair feeling him sigh against you, “I’ve missed you too. I got a new dress.” He lifts his head slightly so his blue eyes can meet yours. A small smile appears on his face, “really? let me see it baby, go try it on.”

You happily agree and run into the bathroom to step out of your shirt and shorts, into the newly bought clothing. You look into the mirror at the white dress with colorful designs splattered onto it. The dress ends right before your mid thigh and has an open back. The straps being very thin.

You walk back into your living room and see Rafe comfortably leaning back into the couch with his legs spread apart, causing your eyes to stare at his thighs for a little too long. His face lights up at the scene of you in a pretty dress all for his view.

“You look so pretty.” He gestures with his finger to do twirl, you listen and move swiftly around in a circle giving him everything to see. When you stand still again straight in front of him his eyes wander everywhere before they land back on your face.

“My pretty girl, come here.” He pats his right thigh and opens his arms, welcoming you onto his body. You put one leg on either side of his, now straddling his thigh. He rests his right hand on your hip to keep you steady and his left hand comes up to your face, caressing your cheek.

“Do you like it?” You could tell from his face as soon as you walked in the room that he loved it, but there’s nothing you love more than hearing your boyfriend approve of you and praise you.

“It’s beautiful, you have good taste.” His hand drops from your face and fiddles with the material of the dress. Moving his pointing finger and thumb in a circle motion around it.

Your gaze drops down again and onto his thighs that are strained against the confinements of his jeans. There’s always been something with you and your boyfriend’s thighs. Your tummy would get twisted every time Rafe would ask you to sit on his lap. Whenever he wore shorts you couldn’t help but stare, especially when he’d sit down and they would expand. You’ve never told him about the attraction, too embarrassed of it.

You move to adjust your spot on his lap to get more comfortable, but feel your panties cling to your cunt. Your folds and panties already being covered in your slick. You feel your face get hot at the thought of Rafe finding out about your little secret, but he picks up on your behavior.

“hey sweetheart, look at me.”

You hear him and you do want to listen, but your eyes can’t pull away from his thigh being trapped between yours. You know that if you look him in the eye he’ll know something’s up. He knows you too well.

You feel his hand cup your chin and tilt your face up himself. You look away for a moment but give in to the need to look at him. His eyes are already piercing into yours. He sees the state that you’re in. Your rosy cheeks, dilated eyes, lips open a gap as your breathing is uneven.

“Rafe.”

The need in your stomach starting to become too much to handle, you rock yourself slightly upward and let out a sigh at the friction. Rafe moves the bottom of your dress away from where your pussy meets his thigh, getting a perfect view of your drenched pink underwear.

“Fuck baby you’ve ruined your underwear.” His voice is now a tone deeper and that mixed with his words make you let out a small moan. “Here let’s get you out of these.” Rafe hooks his fingers into the waistband of your undies and starts to pull them down, you lift your body off of his to help.

“There we go.” He tosses the pink clothing to the floor and try’s to place you higher up near his waist but you whine and push against his strength, moving back to his right thigh when he loosens up. The feeling of his jeans touching your bare cunt gives you a rush of euphoria. Rafe gives you a confused look until you start subtly rocking back and forth on his thigh. Trying to keep it as unnoticeable as possible but having no luck when Rafe starts to feel the dampness moving on his leg.

A smirk then plays on his face, “do you like rubbing yourself on my thigh?” A whine escapes your throat at his dirty words.

“Please.” You didn’t know what exactly you were begging for, all you know is that you need him. You need to feel his thigh harder against your pussy. You need to cum.

“Please what baby? What do you want?”

You huff out, “you. I need you, Rafe. Please.”

You feel his hand that’s on your waist move down to your hip and tighten, he then starts helping you move yourself back and forth. You moan at the new feeling. Your clit being rubbed back and forth by the material of his pants. “Hold your dress up for me sweetheart, I wanna see the mess you’re making.” You oblige and hold up the bottom of your dress, giving your boyfriend the show that he wanted.

Rafe wets his lips at the sight of your pussy leaving a dark stain on his pants, starting to feel it go through the jeans and onto his skin. He brings up his other hand to the other side of your hip and pushes you further down onto his thigh. This causes you to squeal and put a hand on his bicep to stabilize you, the other hand still holding up your dress.

“God you look so good.” He increases the speed, dragging you from the top of his thigh to the bottom then back to the top. You feel your eyes roll back into your head as your moans become more and more desperate. You crane your neck back towards the ceiling and Rafe takes this to his advantage and brings his lips to your neck. He gives you a few light kisses before applying more pressure and then sucking slightly before moving on to the next spot.

He goes further down to the neck of your dress, pulling down the material with his teeth, still keeping you moving on his thigh. Your tits fall freely and he takes one nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirly his tongue around. You moan in response to the abuse he applies to one nipple and then moves to the next doing the same thing. “R-Rafe, ‘feels so good.”

He moans against your boob as a reply before moving back up and marking your neck. When he feels you have enough hickeys he sits back in his spot and feels his dick pulse rapidly by seeing the look of bliss on your face. Your eyes are dark, cheeks even more red than earlier, and you’re biting your lip trying to reduce how loud you are. “Baby what did I say about doing that?” He pulls your lip down and out of your reach to bite down on it, “I want to hear all the noises you make. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

Your mouth drops open as you hit your clit just right and let moans slip past your lips. “Faster, please.” Rafe follows your command and helps guide you faster on his body. The couch creaking with each move. His whole thigh now covered in your slick. “Look at that, you like this baby?” You nod your head rapidly. Your mind turning blank all you can think about is your boyfriend’s thigh and how good it’s making you feel.

“I love it. I’ve always wanted to do this. feels so good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at your honesty. “You’ve been wanting to ride my thigh like this? Do you like my thighs?” You whine loudly and nod your head again. Unable to respond with words at the increasing feeling in your lower stomach.

“Such a needy girl.”

Rafe can tell you’re getting close, he starts shaking his thigh up and down to match your movement. “Please, please, I’m gonna cum.” Your grip tightens on Rafes bicep and your eyes drop down onto the mess you’re making on your boyfriend. “Cum on my thigh pretty girl, I wanna feel your cum drip all over me.” The sight alone pushes you closer to the edge but that mixed with Rafes deep voice and the constant pleasure being applied to your clit sends you falling off of it hard. You scream out in pleasure as your orgasm rips through you, making your body tremble as you ride out the high.

The room gets quiet the only noise to be heard is your heaving breathing as you come down. Rafe lifts you up and sees strings of your release clinging to his pants and your cunt. His pants are horribly ruined but he doesn’t even care, “holy shit. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“More.”

He furrows his eyebrows, “what baby?”

“I want more of you.” You bend down and start to undo his jeans.

He sighs in satisfaction of his cock not being restrained anymore. Fuck is he thankful that he waited for you to come home.

[mssorceressupreme]

Your Warmth | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: gryffindor quidditch team throws a celebratory party at the lake after their win, and you decide to go though you were not one for parties. someone then pulls a prank on you (not fred), throwing you in the lake, not knowing you can’t swim.

Warnings: shy!reader, drowning, reader can’t swim, slight anxiety, fluffy towards the end, Fred's a sweetheart here <3

———

The crisp autumn evening air whispered through the open windows of the Gryffindor common room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls as Ginny and Hermione practically bounced in front of you, eyes wide with excitement.

“Come on, just for a little while!” Ginny urged, her hands gripping your arms, pulling you toward the door. “You’ve been hiding out in here with your books for days! Gryffindor won, you have to come celebrate!”

You frowned, clutching your book tightly to your chest, hesitating. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, it was just… crowds, noise, all those people—too much. You liked the quiet, the solitude, the comforting silence of the common room and the feel of pages turning in your hands.

The idea of leaving it all behind to go to the lake where everyone was partying felt like stepping out of your comfort zone, and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

Hermione's voice cut through your thoughts, gentle but persistent. “It’ll be fun, you know. You don’t have to talk to everyone, but you can be there with us. It'll be good for you.” She flashed that soft, reassuring smile of hers, the one that always made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

You looked between the two of them, and in the end, their enthusiasm was too much to resist. “Alright,” you muttered, resigning yourself to their relentless encouragement. "But just for a little while."

Ginny grinned, throwing her arms around you in excitement. "That's the spirit! We’ll help you get ready."

They pulled you upstairs to change, their infectious energy filling the room as they found an outfit that suited you perfectly. Hermione worked on your hair, braiding it with practiced ease while Ginny picked out a soft sweater, something comfortable but still fitting for the occasion.

You stood there, feeling awkward but somehow right at the same time, allowing yourself to be swept up in the moment. You hadn’t even realised how much you needed this until now.

With a deep breath, you followed them down the stairs, your heart picking up its pace as you neared the lake. The chatter and laughter from the lake became louder, mixed with the occasional splash of water. You could feel your nerves gnawing at you, but you took each step with Ginny and Hermione by your side.

When you finally reached the party, the sight of everyone laughing, swimming, and dancing around the fire made your stomach do somersaults.

There were Gryffindors everywhere, but the mix of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even a few Slytherins made it feel like you were walking into something chaotic. But it was him that you noticed first.

Fred.

He stood with his teammates, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face, as he exchanged a joke with Ron. His red hair was slightly messy from the wind, and his hazel eyes sparkled with the same energy that made your stomach flip every time he was around.

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to stare too long, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered when you saw him laughing with his friends.

The warmth of his smile made everything feel brighter, and for a brief moment, you let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, he might notice you—someone who was always in the background, too quiet, too shy, too invisible.

You quickly looked away, not daring to let him catch you staring.

But Fred did notice.

As if on cue, Fred’s eyes flicked in your direction. His gaze traveled down your body and back up to meet your eyes. For a split second, time stopped, and you quickly looked away, cheeks flushing hot.

He didn’t even say anything, just went back to his conversation, but you felt the lingering heat of his attention like a whisper against your skin. You were so used to staying in the background, a quiet observer, never the centre of attention. The thought that Fred might actually see you felt surreal.

"Stop being so shy," Ginny teased, nudging you gently. "Go talk to him if you want."

You flushed, but didn’t answer. Instead, you clung to Hermione’s side as the three of you mingled, laughing with others but always staying in the background. You stayed close to them, watching as some people danced by the water and others swam, their voices blending with the evening air.

You excused yourself after a while to grab a drink from the punch table, your nerves creeping back up. But before you could even reach the cup, Lee Jordan appeared beside you, fresh from the lake with his wet hair and a wide grin on his face.

"Woah!" Lee laughed, his eyes bright. "Put your books down for once, yeah?"

You smiled awkwardly, pausing from grabbing a cup. "Yeah, decided to get a drink in the open air."

Lee’s grin widened as he noticed the hesitation in your eyes. "Come on, join us! The water’s amazing. Just relax and have some fun."

You bit your lip, glancing nervously at the water. "I’m fine, thank you."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Don’t be shy. Come on! It’ll cool you off." He stepped closer, his energy infectious but overwhelming. "It’s nice out here, you’re just standing by the punch the whole time!"

You shook your head, trying to retreat slightly, but Lee wasn’t taking no for an answer.

"Go on! The water’s perfect, you’ll enjoy it!" He laughed again, completely unaware of how out of place you felt.

"I really don’t—"

Before you could finish, Lee had picked you up without warning, hoisting you over his shoulder like it was nothing.

You shrieked, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Lee, no! Put me down!” You slapped his back lightly, trying to wiggle free, but he held onto you with ease, his grip too strong for you to escape.

The crowd around you burst into laughter, thinking it was just some fun little game and that the two of you were sharing a moment of banter.

You could hear them cheering, but your pulse was racing in a panic. The water loomed ahead, and you couldn’t shake the fear rising in your chest.

But it was too late. Before you could protest again, Lee tossed you into the water with a loud splash.

The world became a blur.

Cold water flooded over you, and you sank beneath the surface. Panic gripped you instantly. Your body went into a wild frenzy, arms flailing, legs kicking.

You tried to force yourself back to the surface, gasping for air, but it was like the water was swallowing you whole, holding you under. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t see.

You were drowning.

Fred’s gaze had never left you. The moment Lee tossed you in, Fred’s eyes locked onto the water, his body stiff with concern. His friends were still laughing, unaware of the danger, but Fred saw it—saw the way you struggled, your head bobbing beneath the surface, unable to rise.

The laughter stopped in his chest, and without a moment’s hesitation, he shoved his drink into Ron’s hands, his face hardening.

Without even looking back, he sprinted and dove into the lake, cutting through the water with swift, powerful strokes.

He swam down, his heart hammering in his chest as he spotted you, desperately thrashing, your face pale with fear. His hand reached out, pulling you up from the depths, and he didn’t let go.

Fred’s arms wrapped around you like a lifeline, and before you even knew what was happening, he was carrying you out of the water.

The world came back into focus, the laughter replaced by silence as the others watched in stunned silence.

Fred was with you in an instant, his hands gently carrying you as he guided you back to the shore.

His shot Lee a death glare, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his full attention to you. His jaw clenched, eyes scanning your trembling form.

Without a word, Fred wrapped you in his arms, his warmth and strength a stark contrast to the cold, shaking fear still in your bones.

You pressed your face into his chest, the relief washing over you, the fear ebbing as his body heat seeped into you.

He carried you all the way back to the common room, not caring that his clothes were soaked through nor did he care about the party. He just needed to get you dry.

Once inside, he moved quickly, pulling his hoodie from the back of a chair and wrapping it around your shoulders. The soft fabric of his shirt still clung to his skin, but he didn’t care. He just wanted you to be okay.

He sat beside you on the couch, watching as you trembled. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…"

The two of you shared a moment of silence, Fred scanning your body for any injuries.

Feeling like you could trust him, you decided to share a secret of yours, "When I was younger, my family went on a camping trip. The place was too beautiful not to explore, so I ran off on my own, exploring every inch of the forrest I could..."

He listened intensely, leaning in, his head tilting as you told your story.

"I came across a lake with a dock and ran across it without hesitation...silly of me though, I should've checked my laces before sprinting without a thought..."

"A bit silly of you, yeah." He teased, and you chuckled lightly.

"Shove off." You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Let me guess, you fell in?" His voice was now soft, empathetic, his eyes glistened with concern.

You nodded, tearing up slightly as you recalled this traumatic moment. "Felt like forever. Felt like I was being dragged down deeper and deeper. I yelled for help but only muffled sounds came out...thought I was going to die. Never entered a lake since."

Fred’s hand brushed over your hand gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stopped Lee, he just gets carried away sometimes, doing things without thinking, that git. I won’t let anything happen to you again..”

You stayed still for a moment, his voice a comfort as it settled over you. But then a small voice inside you urged you to speak, to break the silence that had fallen between the two of you. You lifted your head slightly, looking up at Fred, his face inches away from yours.

“Why… why did you help me?” you asked quietly, your words almost a breathless whisper. "I mean, you didn’t have to, you could’ve just let Lee—"

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he interrupted, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I couldn’t just leave you there. You looked terrified. I’m not gonna stand around and watch someone I care about struggle. Not like that.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—you did, more than you could say—but the fact that he cared, that he’d seen you struggling and rushed to help without a second thought, made your chest tighten with excitement.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “I… I’m glad you did, though,” you said, the words feeling vulnerable, too open, but you couldn’t take them back now. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t. So… thank you.”

Fred smiled softly, his eyes lighting up with a mix of relief and something you couldn’t place. “No problem,” he said quietly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

There was a pause, a comfortable kind of quiet between the two of you. Fred shifted slightly, looking down at you with an almost nervous energy that seemed at odds with his usual confident demeanor. “You, uh, you don’t have to stay on the couch,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, as if the question made him uneasy. “I mean, you could… you could rest here if you want.” He patted his lap.

You blinked up at him in surprise, and for a second, you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. “Rest there?” you echoed, your voice hesitant.

“Yeah,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up in a shy grin. “If you want to. I don’t mind. You look like you could use a little rest after… all that.”

You swallowed hard, the idea of being so close to him both thrilling and intimidating. “I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you replied, voice a little shaky despite your best efforts to sound calm.

Fred tilted his head, the concern and warmth in his gaze making your heart flutter a little. “You won’t. I promise. I’m just making sure you’re alright. Besides,” he added with a slight smirk, “I am pretty comfortable, so I wouldn’t mind.”

A small laugh escaped you, the tension between you both finally starting to ease. “I guess it’s only fair, then,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you slowly let yourself relax against him, laying your head in his lap, in his hoodie.

You felt like you were about to explode, from barely talking to Fred to resting on his lap, it all felt surreal.

Fred shifted so you were sitting more comfortably. “I’ll stay right here, alright? You’re safe with me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability of the situation sinking in, but then, surprisingly, you felt a sense of trust that you hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the way he had been so kind, so protective without question.

His warmth and the steady beat of his heart made you feel like you were in a cocoon, safe and protected.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet between you now comfortable, almost soothing. Fred absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“You’re alright now,” he murmured again, his voice soft, like he was reassuring himself as much as you.

You nodded, your eyes closing as the tension of the past few minutes started to fade away. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet but content. “I think I’m gonna be okay.”

You closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling at you. Slowly, the warmth of Fred’s presence washed you into a wave of calm. You drifted to sleep, your head resting in his lap, his fingers softly stroking your hair.

Fred watched you, his heart swelling with something he couldn’t quite put into words. He could’ve stayed there forever, his hand resting gently on your head, keeping you safe.

And in that moment, he couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl he had seen, and that he would never let anything harm you again.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。PRINCESS — GETO SUGURU.

contents. non curse! au, dad! suguru, mom + fem! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” life with your daughters nanako and mimiko <3, embarrassingly self-indulgent once again

suguru is prideful—you have to hold back a giggle as he gives you a short glare, unwilling to back down.

“it looks good,” he grumbles. you’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself. “it’s great. stop being a jerk. the girls worked hard.”

“of course,” you nod, biting back a grin, “you look lovely. your hair’s never been better.”

“i can hear the laughter in your voice,” he accuses.

“i’m not laughing!”

he raises a brow, and you can’t help it. you giggle. his hair is positively ruined—there are knots and tangles and clips everywhere. you don’t know where one nest of hair starts and where the other ends. everything is everywhere at once and suguru….well, suguru is trying to convince himself this is okay.

it’s for his girls, he reminds himself—anything for his girls.

“you just laughed,” he mutters, looking into the mirror. his eyes are alarmed, but for pride’s sake, he throws on a carefree look as he shrugs. “i look like their princess. they said so themselves.”

“well, i’ll give you a point for sweetest dad ever,” you hum, pulling out a loose clip. “but i deduct five points for falling asleep on watch duty.”

you come home from work and find a sleeping suguru at the foot of the couch with two toddlers hunched over his shoulders, working diligently at his hair. it’s cute—the way he looks as he sleeps peacefully, the way they look as they giggle and twist strands of dark hair with their small fingers. it’s heartwarming and makes you want to keep the moment frozen for just a bit longer.

but then you realize that irresponsibly, suguru has fallen asleep with two toddlers in the house—one of which (you eye a certain blonde) is a bit of a troublemaker.

“negative four?” he gasps, wounded.

“negative four,” you affirm, shaking your head in disappointment.

“i couldn’t help it,” he pouts, “it’s soothing having two sets of hands play with your hair.”

“well, good luck getting this mess out of your hair,” you chuckle, turning to step out of the bathroom—but suguru is quick. his hand snatches your wrist as soon as you take a step.

“hang on,” he tugs, pulling you back in, “you’ve gotta help me with this.”

“i thought you said it was fine,” you raise a brow, “it shouldn’t be much trouble.”

“i haven’t see you all day,” he insists, “can’t i have a relaxing shower with my wife as she washes my hair?”

“i showered this morning. see you after yours though—”

“okay fine,” he deflates, rolling his eyes as he looks off to the side, “this is….gonna take a while to fix.”

you grin victoriously. suguru grumbles under his breath.

“alright,” you poke his cheek with a satisfied smirk, “i’ll help you. if you say pretty please.”

——————

“daddy you changed your hair,” nanako whines in despair as soon as suguru steps out of the bathroom. you stifle a giggle as he looks down at her in alarm.

“sweetheart, daddy just had to shower and—”

“maybe he didn’t like it,” mimiko mumbles quietly from the side. her voice is glum—and like the doting mother you are, your smile drops as you feel your heart ache.

“what? that’s not true!” suguru sputters, “i loved it! mommy loved it too, right?”

the two girls turn to look at you—and because you have long realized that motherhood is the gracefulness of putting your children’s feelings above all else, even if it means lying straight through your teeth, you nod with exaggerated vigor.

“of course!” you say enthusiastically, “it was so unique! i’ve never seen daddy look so….pretty.”

suguru shoots you an unimpressed look as you bite your lip in amusement.

“he was a princess!” nanako brightens, a happy smile erupting over her lips. suguru grins as he melts, pinching the soft flesh of her cheek gently with a low hum.

“i was,” he nods, “wasn’t i beautiful?”

“oh, yeah,” you snort, “way too beautiful—you might dethrone me.”

“mommy we can make you a princess too—”

“who wants dinner?” you cut mimiko off quickly, smiling through the panic, “i bet everyone’s hungry!”

“me!” nanako raises her hand enthusiastically and you sigh in relief—crisis successfully averted. but only for now, you suppose. the devious look suguru gives you tells you this won’t be the last time the suggestion is offered to you.

“what a shame,” suguru sighs dramatically, “i wanted to see you all dolled up. maybe next time.”

and then he reaches down and pulls both girls into his arms, filling the room with giggles as he nibbles on their cheeks affectionately and saunters off to the dinner table. you can’t help but smile softly as you watch his retreating figure—suguru was made for fatherhood, you think, he fills the role so effortlessly.

and then….you hear a thump and a hissed curse under his breath in the distance.

“mommy, daddy said a bad word!” nanako calls, earning a panicked no i didn’t! from your husband. “now he’s lying,” she adds.

well….no one said he was perfect.

i just know nanako is simultaneously a daddy’s girl who also rats him out and tattles 24/7 bc she thinks it’s funny when he gets in trouble

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[salemrph]

Show me I (Sylus x MC)

Summary: Sylus is driving you wild, and no matter how hard you try, nothing seems to ease the heat building inside you. After playing blackjack, you find yourself trapped in his control, where the line between teasing and desire disappears.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: explicit sexual content, provocative, soft

Pet names: Kitten, Sweetie, Love

Word count: 5,189 | Reading Time: 20 min | AO3

WARNINGS: mdni, fingering, biting, masturbation

Next - Show me II >>

This is my first explicit story. Hope you enjoy it.

A moan felt from your lips, is feels so good. Your body is heating up, you arch your back on the bed. Your hand is buried in the sheets. It's intoxicating—his scent lingers everywhere. In the silence of your room, your sighs fill the air. You can feel how wet your are. You hear his voice in your ear, resonating like an echo throughout your body.

You need more, more then what you're feeling now. One more finger slips inside you making you moan his name. You're sweating, you ajuste your position, flipping around, burying your nose in his shirt laying on your pillow. Again. There is the sweet spot.

"Please... Sylus" Only a thread of voice comes out of you, a prayer, begging.

His hands tracing imaginary patterns across your skin, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You hear his voice, low and seductive, in your mind, his breath hot against your skin.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take it. I want you to moan my name until you can't take it any longer."

You can imagine how he would look at you, his eyes darkened with lust, his lips curling up in a knowing smirk. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he guides your movements. The idea of his words sends a shivers down your spine.

How would his finger feels pressing inside of you, the weight of him bearing down on you, holding your nipple? His mouth on your skin, his lips against yours, his teeth scrapping across your skin, marking you as his.

You take your vibrator between your legs, you don't need the vibration tonight, the sensation of having something hard in you is enough. You started with a slow pace but you're so wet, so hungry for him that you quickly change to violent thrust, hitting you g-spot. How would his cock feel, pulsing, twitching? God... is he also so big as your toy or more?

"Kitten" His voice would sound, guttural and rough, as he would moan your name in pleasure.

Everything tight up, your mouth goes dry, your nipple harder than ever, you feel the orgasm reach the pick and you let the pleasure wash over you in release.

"Sylus..." you whisper one more time. The toys, your hand and sheet are cover in your fluids. "Fuck..."

How many time have you fuck yourself thinking about this man? Coming undone with your hands or your vibrator, leaving a mess in your bed—and in your heart. The scent of his shirt, stolen from his closet, clings to you like a guilty pleasure, making you feel like a stalker. When did you become this needy?

You want to get closer to him, but you can’t bring yourself to take the game beyond playful flirting. Whenever it feels like too much, you deflect, change the subject, or find an excuse to pull away. But it’s getting harder to resist. Night after night, he’s all you can think about.

You search for your panties, tossed somewhere on the bed in the haze of release. Still catching your breath, you rise and head to the bathroom, half-naked, to clean up the mess.

You step into the shower, hoping the warm water will help you settle down. The steam wraps around you as you stand under the stream, letting it run over your skin. Your body wants more. It craves something real, something that no amount of teasing thoughts or fantasies can satisfy. You lean your forehead against the cool tiles, trying to clear your mind, but it’s useless. Every time you close your eyes, it’s him—his voice, his touch, the way he’d look at you just before… You swallow hard, shaking your head, but the heat rising in your chest doesn’t fade.

Your body feels restless, it’s begging for more, and nothing you do is enough. The ache is real, almost frustrating. You feel ridiculous, standing here, wanting him like this, but the thought of him is all you can hold onto. And it’s driving you crazy.

The worst part? You’re staying at his place. Not just any place—his place. And you didn’t even have the decency to keep your restless thoughts in check. Instead, you gave in, right here in the guest room. You brought the vibrator just in case, but you didn't think you were going to use it.

Now, standing in the shower, the reality of what you’ve done crashes over you. The thought of being just a few doors away from him while you… God, what if he knew? What if he heard? You feel a flush creep up your neck, but it’s not from the hot water

What have I done? He would never come into my room without asking permission, would he?

No. Sylus was many things, but someone who crossed boundaries without permission? That... yeah, it his style. But still… you can’t shake the nagging doubt.

The image of his smirk flashes in your mind, and your stomach twists. If he knew, he wouldn’t just ignore it—he’d use it against you. Not cruelly, but in that way he has, turning everything into a game, making you stumble just to see if you’ll catch yourself.

You press your hands to your face, letting the water run over your fingertips. Stop overthinking. But it’s impossible when you’re in his space, surrounded by his presence, his scent, his everything.

You step out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you wrap yourself in a towel. Padding softly to your bag, you pull out a fresh pair of everything—underwear, shorts, a loose t-shirt—and slip them on, the cool fabric a small comfort against your overheated thoughts.

The evidence of your restless night—the shirt you shamelessly swiped from his closet and the vibrator you couldn’t resist using—gets shoved deep into your bag. Out of sight, out of mind... or so you tell yourself.

You glance at the clock: 3 a.m. Perfect. Just enough time to stew in your self-inflicted insomnia.

Climbing back into bed, the sheets feel colder, the silence louder. Your mind refuses to settle, replaying every moment, every sound from earlier. You shift restlessly, willing sleep to take over, but it’s no use. Now you’re stuck, wide awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking of him. Of course.

You toss and turn, the sheets twisting uncomfortably around you. Frustration bubbles up as sleep evades you entirely. With a sigh, you sit up, grab a sweater from the back of a chair, and pull it on.

The house is creepily silent, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, pressing against your ears. You pause for a moment, listening for any signs of life. Has Sylus left? Is he in his room? You don’t hear a thing, and it doesn’t matter. Right now, you just need a breath of fresh air to clear your restless mind.

You wander aimlessly through the quiet hallways, the cool floor beneath your bare feet grounding you slightly. The thought of stepping outside without shoes makes you hesitate, so you continue pacing, hoping to find some semblance of calm.

The silence wraps around you like a blanket, but it’s quickly broken by a faint fluttering sound behind you. You freeze mid-step, a familiar presence prickling at the edge of your senses.

Not even two minutes have passed, and the crow is already following you. You turn your head slightly, catching the unmistakable glint of black feathers in the dim light. The bird perches silently on your shoulder.

"Really?" you mutter under your breath, crossing your arms. "Can’t a girl have a moment alone?"

Mephisto caw, of course, but you swear its head tilts just slightly, as if mocking your question.

"Fine..." You continue your way down the hall, the sense of restlessness grows within you, pushing you toward the one place that always offers some semblance of peace: the music room.

You reach the door, its heavy wood standing like a barrier between the silence of the house and the world you’re trying to escape. You push it open, stepping inside. The air is thick with the smell of aged wood and leather. The room feels different from the rest of the mansion—more alive, somehow. It’s Sylus’s private music library, a sanctuary filled with vintage records, all arranged with meticulous care.

The world slows down here, and you can breathe without the weight of questions pressing on your chest. You move closer to the shelves, your fingers grazing the edges of the records. Maybe you can find something to ease the tension, something to distract you from the chaos inside your heart.

Mephisto has perched himself on the arm of the chair nearby, you pull a record off the shelf at random. The cover is pretty without thinking too much, you slip the record onto the turntable, setting the needle in place. The faint crackle of the vinyl fills the air before smooth, cozy jazz begins to play, its mellow tones weaving a subtle warmth around the room. The sound wraps around you like a gentle hug.

You sink into the sofa, letting the smooth jazz fill the room and take the edge off your restless thoughts. The soft rhythm seeps into your chest, steady and comforting, grounding you in the moment. The warm glow of the room feels smaller, cozier, like a little bubble away from the world. For a second, it works. For a second, you let yourself breathe. But then your mind wanders, and the peace slips through your fingers.

How may moments you had with Sylus, where the tension between was unbearable? His finger moving softly under your chin forcing you to meet that piercing gaze of his. The other hand moving from your hip to your back.

The memory is enough to send a shiver through you, the same tightness blooming in your chest, the heat rising again. You whisper his name into the quiet, barely a sound, but it still feels too loud. Curling up on the couch, you press your knees to your chest, as if it’ll somehow contain the ache that’s spreading through you.

"I hope my name is the only one you pronounce like that, kitten."

You freeze at the sound of his voice, low and teasing, cutting through the music like a blade. Slowly, you look up, your pulse hammering in your chest. Sylus leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his smirk sharper than ever. You sit up.

You feel your face heat up instantly. How long had he been standing there?

"I didn’t—" you start, but the words falter. What could you even say? Deny it? Explain it away?

Sylus steps into the room, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Relax," he says, his tone light but laced with that unmistakable edge. "I don’t mind being in your little head... especially if I’m keeping you awake."

Your heart skips as he stops a few steps away, looking down at you with that infuriating, unreadable expression.

"I... wasn't thinking about you" you mumble, your voice barely audible over the music.

"If you say so" he replies, his smirk deepening as he tilts his head.

Sylus closes the distance between you. He stops in front of you, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. The touch is light, almost gentle, but it sends a jolt through your entire body.

"You look awfully tense," he murmurs, his voice dipping into a velvety softness. His fingers trail down, tracing the line of your jaw before lifting your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

The intensity in his gaze steals your breath, every teasing word now layered with something much heavier, much darker. He leans down, close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of his breath against your lips.

"Tell me, kitten," he whispers, his tone impossibly smooth, "what exactly were you thinking about when you said my name like that?"

Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it. His other hand moves, settling on the armrest of the couch, caging you in without ever touching you fully. The air between you is thick, charged with an electric tension that has you struggling to find your voice.

"I..." The words catch in your throat. Sylus doesn’t wait. His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk.

"How about we play a little game?" he says, sitting down next to you.

You look at him, confused. "If you win, you can ask me to do whatever you want..."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind wanders to what that "whatever" could mean, and the thought of his lips on yours or his hands roaming your body makes your cheeks flush and you panties wet. Fuck. Playing games with Sylus is dangerous. It’s like making a deal with the devil. He looks at you intently, his gaze unwavering, and you swallow hard. Curiosity killed the cat, but despite knowing better, you ask anyway.

"What if I lose?"

Sylus chuckles softly, his voice laced with amusement.

"Then you do whatever I want, sweetie" he replies, his smirk widening. You tense for a moment. "Like going to bed so you can finally get some sleep." Your eyes dart around the room, trying to decide if this is a good idea.

"What game?" you ask finally, your curiosity winning out.

"I let you choose" he says, his tone casual but his expression far from innocent. It doesn’t guarantee victory, but at least it’s a starting point.

"And...?"

"Deal"

Well, you just sold your soul. Now you need to pick something that gives you even a shred of a chance. Sylus is good at nearly everything. You don't feel like playing Kitty Cards right now. You sigh, racking your brain for options. Luck might be your best bet. If you can’t outskill him, maybe you can outplay him. You need to play dirty at this, if you want to win.

"Black Jack" you declare, a sly smile forming on your lips.

Sylus raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your choice.

"As you wish," he says smoothly. Then, with an almost imperceptible glint in his eye, he adds, "I’ll call Luke and Kieran to deal for us."

It doesn’t take long before the table is set and the twins are in position, ready to play their role. Sylus, ever the gentleman when it suits him, guides you to your seat with a hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

You glance nervously at the cards and then at Sylus, who’s already settled in across from you, exuding his usual confidence. His eyes meet yours, and that devilish smirk reappears. "Ready, sweetie? Or are you already regretting this?"

"I've been born ready" you declare, exuding confidence as you sit down.

The rules are set: five rounds, with three wins needed to claim the prize. It feels fair, or at least as fair as any deal with Sylus could be.

The game begins, and each round feels like an eternity. Cards are dealt, your mind races, and every decision is accompanied by a bead of sweat forming on your forehead. Sylus, of course, looks completely unbothered, his smirk never faltering.

Despite your efforts—despite every ounce of strategy, luck, and sheer will—you lose.

Sylus leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression smug. "Well, kitten, I think we both know what that means."

As Sylus looks at the twins, they vanish without a word, leaving the room in eerie silence. He strides over to you with purpose, and before you can react, his hand grabs your arm.

"Wait—" you start, but the protest dies in your throat as Sylus effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You squirming against his hold.

He laughs, the sound deep and infuriatingly smug. He carries you through the halls, ignoring your attempts to wriggle free, until he reaches his room. The door shuts behind him with a soft click locking the room, he sets you down gently in the center of his bed.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice shaky. Sylus smirks as he steps back, his hands moving to his shirt.

"It is not obvious? Claiming my prize" Your eyes widen as he pulls the shirt over his head, revealing his perfectly sculpted abs. No matter how many times you've seen them, the sight still makes your brain short-circuit. You try to look away, your face heating. A moment later, the bed shifts as Sylus lies down beside you. You turn onto your side, giving him your back, putting distance. You can´t look at him, not right now, when you feel that your whole body is burning in desire.

"Why are you hiding, kitten?"

"I- I'm not" you stammer, your voice betraying you. Sylus chuckles, pulling you closer until your back is pressed against his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and secure, and he buries his nose in the curve of your neck.

"Yes, you are" he murmurs, his voice vibrating through you.

You swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your ears. "J-Just tell me what I need to do," you manage, barely above a whisper.

"I want you to show me something" Sylus says, his voice low and dripping with intent.

You blink, confused, your mind racing to catch up. But before you can ask what he means, you feel it—his nose brushing along, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin. Then comes the slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I think" his tone laced with amusement and far darker, "a naughty kitten was calling for me during her... private session."

His words are a sharp contrast to the gentle press of his lips against your pulse, and it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Your entire body tenses, heat flooding your face as realization slams into you like a tidal wave. Oh god! He heard you. Of course, he did. You made a terrible mistake, letting yourself get lost in your desires, thinking you were alone.

"I don’t know what you mean" you stammer, your voice shaky, unconvincing even to your own ears.

Sylus laughs softly, the sound more dangerous than comforting. "You don’t? Maybe I can help you replay how you sounded..."

Before you can respond, his teeth graze your neck, sharp and deliberate, before biting down just enough to make you gasp. The sharp sensation sparks through your body, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Trapped in his hold, you feel completely at his mercy, and yet, every nerve in your body screams for more.

Sylus hums against your neck, the sound deep, amused, and entirely unhurried. "It’s still not enough" he murmured, his tone wickedly smooth, as if coaxing a confession from you.

You squirm in his grip. His teeth scrape against your skin, his grip tightening around you just enough to make your breath hitch. Your body betrays you, responding to the intoxicating mix of dominance and teasing. Before you can stop it, a small, high whimper escapes your lips.

Sylus stills for a moment, and then you feel his smirk against your neck. "There it is" he says softly, the satisfaction in his voice unmistakable. "Now... a deal is a deal. Show me what were you doing earlier." He press himself against you, you feel it. That's definitely not his phone.

Your face burns as you twist to look at him. "Were you spying on me?"

His smirk deepens, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh no, kitten. I’d never do such a thing." He leans closer. "I just wanted to make sure you were asleep and... I heard it through the door."

"How?" you demand, your embarrassment threatening to consume you.

He grins, sharp and taunting. "I have good hearing." he says, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sylus shifts with deliberate ease, he maneuvers you onto your back, his body following closely. His arms cage you in, his legs bracketing yours, trapping you beneath him. Your jaw tightens as you glare at him, but it only seems to amuse him more. Sylus tilts his head, studying you like a predator does its prey.

"Don’t look so embarrassed" he says, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "You sounded... exquisite." You cover your face with your hands, groaning.

Sylus chuckles, his hand sliding down your arm to gently pull your hands away. His grip is firm but not forceful, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he brings your face back into view. He counters smoothly, leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Now, kitten... show me." He nips lightly at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His other hand slides up your leg.

You mind is spinning, you've been wanting this for a long time, every night, every day you spend with him. And now that he's noticed you, that he's created the perfect scenario. You click your tongue, frustrated with yourself, hating the cowardice you feel.

"I'll... do it" Sylus moves away, he looks a bit surprised over the words, but then his smiles returns and his expression change to a mix lust and possessiveness.

"Mmm, good girl," he purrs. He kneels back, giving you space.

You move to the top of the bed, positioning yourself against the pillows, your body halfway between sitting and lying down. Sylus watches your every move intently. His eyes follow the curve of your body, taking in the sight of you slowly, unhurriedly, getting comfortable.

Your hands disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts, out of his view, you fix your eyes on him, meeting his gaze, your own filled with a mixture of nervousness and desire. He watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face as your hand moves slowly. You never thought your first time with him would be like this—a voyeuristic experience. This wasn’t just about him seeing you—it was about you letting him see. And the power in that, the sheer intimacy of it, made your pulse race even faster.

Fuck it! I'm giving him the show of his life.

His breathing is heavier, deeper, as he watches your facial expressions, as he sees the pleasure cross your features. You moan, your breath becoming heavier, send a jolt straight through him. His intense gaze flickers to your other hand as it disappears beneath your shirt. His lips part slightly, and though he doesn’t say a word, you know he’s imagining exactly what you’re doing. His hunger is palpable, his eyes darker, his breathing heavier, but he stays rooted in place, letting you show him everything.

You can feel the need growing within you, a burning desire that begs to be satisfied. You slide your hand down further, your finger slipping beneath the fabric of your panties seeking for relief. You're so goddamn wet. As you arch your back, your eyes closing momentarily, Sylus groans lowly. You increase the pace, your breath coming in quick, sharp gasps as you work yourself closer and closer to the edge.

As you get lost briefly in the pleasure, you forget for a moment that he is there, watching you with a hot, possessive gaze.

His body tenses and tremors as he tries to deal with the erection straining against his slacks. The sound of your whimpers is making him lose everything, he wants you, wants to touch you, to taste you, to possess you utterly. He can smell your arousal, his body coiled like a panther waiting to pounce. But he resists the urge instead, Sylus leans forward, moving slowly next to you, his face is now just a breath away from yours. His perfume surrounds you, filling your nose, you want him so bad. The desire burning in your stomach is even stronger now than it was when you were touching yourself just hours ago.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice a low, silken murmur.

"Sylus..." You can't help but say his name. You don't want this moment to end—you don't want to come. Staying like this, feels so damn right it consumes you.

"Come for me," he repeats. "Let go... I want to see you come undone."

You're so close, so close to tipping over the edge, and he's there, waiting, watching.

"I don't know if I can..." you whine, your voice trembling with the effort of holding back.

"May I help you?" his voice low and seductive.

At this point, your body is burning with need, every nerve begging for him. You nod, unable to resist the pull anymore. Sylus tilts your chin toward him, his lips crashing onto yours in a deep, messy kiss that makes you feel dizzy with desire. A desperate moan slips from your lips as his kiss intensifies. Every movement, every brush of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. Sylus's kiss is all-consuming. You abandon what you were doing, your hands going to his shoulders, holding on to him tightly.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot on your skin as he moves down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

He move you effortlessly, sitting you between his legs, your back resting against his bare chest. With quick, practiced movements, he pulls down your shorts and underwear, you lift your hips slightly to help. His hand spreads your legs and you give him full access to your body.

The touch of his hands against your skin, as they run up your legs, leaves a trail of fire in its wake. He pauses, resting on your inner thighs, gently rubbing and squeezing the sensitive flesh. He kisses your shoulder after that his lips leaves open-mouthed kisses and bites on your neck.

"Sylus... please" you whine.

He groans in response, his body tensing against yours. He can feel the pleading in your voice, the need that mirrors his own. You take his hand, guiding it up to your wetness, wanting, no, needing him to touch you, to give you what you desire so badly since you know him.

"So needy, aren't we?" he growls into your ear.

He teases you, moving around your opening, his touch light and almost taunting. Then, one finger finds your warmth, and you gasp aloud at the sensation. "So ready for me" his voice low and sultry. His finger moves in a slow, circular motion, building the tension, driving you insane. You move your hips against his hand, trying to get more contact.

"You're so eager" his free hand coming up to grip your hip, holding you in place. He speeds up the motion adding pressure and friction. "I guess you can take another finger" Without waiting for an answer, a second finger is added, stretching you further and eliciting a gasp of both pain and pleasure. You let your head fall back on his shoulder. Opening more of your legs.

"D- Don't stop"

His finger curls inside you, deliberate and skilled, seeking out that sweet spot that leaves you breathless. When he finds it, a sharp wave of pleasure courses through you, stronger than anything you’d ever imagined. Your body arches involuntarily, pressing into his touch as a moan slips out of you.

"There it's" he purrs.

Each movement of his hand is precise, teasing you closer and closer to the edge without letting you fall. His thumb brushes over your clit in a perfect rhythm, amplifying the sensation until you’re gasping for air.

"Sylus..." you whimper, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the exquisite feeling of him inside you, even if it’s just his finger. You hold on to his legs, your fingers sinking into the fabric of his pants as you try to hold on.

"That's it" he murmurs, his voice thick with hunger. "Claw at me. Mark me."

When he presses against that favourite spot again, your entire body tenses, a sharp cry escaping you.

"S- Sylus... I'm... close..." your words are a pleading gasp, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge.

He smirks, his pace unwavering, his dark red eyes locked onto your face. He feels you tightening around his fingers, senses the way your body is begging for release.

"Be a good girl," he growls, low and commanding, "and come on my hand."

You can feel the pressure building within you, the tension ratcheting higher and higher. Every touch, every whisper from Sylus, fuels the fire consuming you. You're so close now, teetering on the edge, at this point you're just whimpers. His other hand slides beneath your shirt, his fingers expertly teasing and pinching your nipple, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He whispers in your ear, his voice a low, sultry command. "Let go, love. Come for me."

Your mouth goes dry as you try to catch up your breath, every nerve of your body alight with the intensity of the moment. You can barely breathe, your chest heaving as you try to cling to some semblance of control. But his voice, paired with the relentless rhythm of his fingers and the possessive way his body surrounds yours, is too much.

A broken cry tears from your throat as the tension finally snaps. Your body shuddering uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you trembling and undone. Sylus keeps his hand on you, his fingers still inside, coaxing every last ripple of your release.

When your breathing begins to steady, he finally withdraws his fingers, leaving you with a sharp pang of emptiness that only deepens the need swirling in your chest. His face is buried in your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"That was the most fucking cute whimper I've ever heard"

Before you can even think of a reply, Sylus turns you in his grip, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss is fierce and consuming, all teeth and passion, his possessiveness pouring out in every movement. His hand tangles in your hair as he claims you completely, his body pressing into yours as if he can’t bear to be apart for even a moment.

The fabric of your shirt became a frustrating barrier to his touch, his impatient evident in the way his fingers trace along it, desperate to feel your skin "I want you" he growls into your skin, his voice rough with need.

"I think you had claim your prize already" you manage to say, voice shaky.

Sylus laughs, the sound dark and knowing. "Technically, you didn’t fulfill your part of the deal. So…" he says, the amusement clear in his tone. You feel him press his hard dick against your back, making your body heat up again. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks down at you with that trademark smirk. "...I want you instead."

Next Part >

[3rachaslut]

kinks i think skz would have (pt. 1)

warnings: smut MINORS DNI!! read sub headers for warnings ig?

(some include: degrading, slapping, dumbification) let me know if i’ve missed anything xx

youtiful was playing whilst i wrote this lol help

part 2, part 3

chan — mirror sex

because seeing you underneath him breathless and begging for more isn’t enough, he needs to see ALLLL of you all at once

would grab your hair whilst telling you to look at yourself, his “beautiful girl”

NECK KISSES. OMG SO MANY NECK KISSES

“most gorgeous girl in the world aren’t you baby?” he would make you agree by rutting quicker into you when you mewl a yes

grabbing your thighs, ass, tits. pretty much groping you all over

lee know — breathe play

no because he’s actually OBSESSED with watching your eyes roll back into your head from bliss

he’s so degrading with his words too?! “pathetic little slut gone all dumb on my cock?”, “be quiet whore” etc

would ask you if you want to breathe but would just laugh at you when you choke out “yes sir” like haha you actually thought?

FACE. SLAPPING.

would let go of your throat for like 3 seconds just to hear you gasp for breath and then his hand is around your neck AGAIN damn

“only good girls get to breathe baby”

changbin — gagging

would deadass SHOVE your head down onto his cock just to hear you choke on it, you’re heaving and everything

oml the amount of spit falling down your chin and onto your thighs is CRAZY

“fuck yesss baby girl. such a good girl taking my cock. shit-” whilst you’re literally suffocating on his dick

yanks at your hair, tugging you off him just to force you to look up at him with mascara running down your face and bloodshot eyes

he will NOT stop rutting his hips tryna get his cock further down your throat even though it’s allllll the way in man?

“love seeing you this much of a mess doll. fuck-”

hyunjin — breeding

i swear you and hyunjin have the most beautiful, loving sex ever !!!

like, he will cup your face with both hands whilst planting kisses everywhere on your face and calling you beautiful names

“my angel, you’re so pretty”

will practically BEG you to let him come inside you. “just wanna feel you around me baby”

WHIMPERING HYUNE FR

would tuck your hair behind your ears so the sweat on your forehead doesn’t make it stick to you :’(

“you’re just too beautiful sweetheart, please let me come inside your pretty little pussy?”

jisung — squirting

literally the most pussy drunk member of the group?!

as in, he would quite happily eat you out for hours but his FAVOURITE sight is you squirting (like, he’s actually obsessed)

literally BEGS for you squirt on his face because he wants to “taste you”

his chin would be such a mess from being allllll over your pussy but he’s the happiest he’s ever been seeing you moan uncontrollably from his fingers inside you

“want you to squirt all over my fingers baby, that’s it, thereeee you go”

KISSES KISSES KISSES EVERYWHERE

felix — dress up

you wanna rile felix up? wear a maid outfit and watch that guy FOLD

would deadass blush so hard when you ask him if you look pretty like duh, the man has a tent in his pants?

“did you dress up for me baby?”

SO MANY COMPLIMENTS !!

“you look incredible baby girl, can i touch you?” and how could you say no when he asked so politely aww :’(

“you drive me crazy y/n wow”

seungmin — orgasm control

he. is. filthy. with his dirty talk and loves degrading you whilst edging you over and over again omg

would actually laugh in your face when you beg him to let you cum

“who says i will even let you cum tonight baby? bad girls don’t get to cum do they?”

the way he speaks to you like he would speak to an actual dog gets you HORNY. “do you think you deserve to cum doll? have you been a good puppy? i don’t think you have”

and on the nights he would let you cum, he would force you to do it over and over again whilst laughing at your pleas because your pussy is RAW

“isn’t this what you wanted pup?”

jeongin — voyeurism

no because innie loves NOTHING more than to watch you pleasure yourself oml

like, you’d forbid him from touching himself just to see him get so worked up from the scene in front of him and he’s such a whimpering MESS omg

“please please let me touch myself baby, your pussy is so pretty”

SO. WHINEY. !!

like, he’s practically on the verge of tears from being so horny and not being able to touch his cock :(

when you finally let him touch himself over you, he would thank god and omg his whimpers when he comes are so subby omg omg omg

[vampiredaisiesss]

the boy beneath | dean winchester x reader

summary - even though john has forced him to be a man, he's not fully one yet. the boyish grins and youthful desires still hold him prisoner. and in these rare moments with you, he allows himself to be that boy again.

tw: fluff, mention of john winchester, itsy bitsy angst, season one dean being a cute little shit.

The golden afternoon sun glints off the polished chrome of the Impala.

Huddled under its hood, you're helping Dean fix a blown engine in the middle of nowhere. The scent of pine and motor oil mingles in the air, a strangely comforting amalgamation that's become synonymous with these moments.

Grease smears your faces, laughter echoing through the woods before dying into a comfortable silence. Dean works his wrench as you watch him, mesmerized by the fluid motions of his hands.

There's a softness to him still, despite the harsh life he's led. Even after years of hunting and killing, he's a little shit with puppy dog eyes and a pretty boy smile.

He's got an old Canon EOS camera he roams around with everywhere nowadays. It's become as much a part of him as his leather jacket or the samulet. And yes, it's a bit battered, much like Dean himself, but it's efficient at it's job, just like him.

"What'cha lookin' at, sweetheart?" he asks amusedly, without looking up. If he had, he would've caught the longing in your eyes.

"Nothing," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady, but the slight tremor betrays you.

A gust of wind blows across your face, tickling you with your strands of hair. You giggle at the sensation, the sound coming out light and carefree. It steals Dean's attention away from his beloved car, soft eyes landing on your face.

Dean's heart skips a beat as he looks at you. God, you're beautiful, he thinks, drinking in the sight of your windswept hair and the laughter in your eyes.

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. He reaches for the camera in the back seat. The shutter clicks, immortalizing your joy.

As he lowers his camera, he thinks of all your hours spent in between sheets. Naked bodies pressed together, crevices into crevices. He's enamoured by the way his hands mould your body to fit the curves of his.

Even though John has forced him to be a man, he's not fully one yet. The boyish grins and youthful desires still hold him prisoner. And in these rare moments with you, he allows himself to be that boy again.

The thought of losing you feels like the ache Achilles must have felt when Patroculus died. It's an ache that gnaws at his insides every second of his existence. He wants to hold onto this feeling, to you, with everything he has.

And for a fleeting moment, as he turns back to the engine, you both pretend that this is all there is — just you, Dean, and the open road ahead.

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ SURVIVAL. featuring sniper mask.

↻ sniper mask is a good man… right?

tags : outdoor sex, misogyny, manipulation, creampie, spanking, fucking to survive (not really but he says it is), wall sex, orgasm delay, slight mask kink, god complex!sniper mask, implied dubcon // wc. 0.9k

author’s note : sighs and screams and sobs all over the place. i didn’t actually get down to watching high rise invasion until recently and now i suddenly need sniper mask everywhere and anywhere all at once. poor guy is SURROUNDED by women who he can’t have (and i could change that :p) i know we aren’t quite done with this event yet but i want to thank everyone for all the support i’ve received!! follower numbers have soared and i feel more motivation than ever <3 keep liking n reblogging to help a girl out, and enjoy this one !! i love you all and here’s to almost 800 followers !!

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

ever heard of the saying ‘boys will be boys’? it’s massively toxic, and mostly used to excuse the inappropriate actions of boys (or more predominantly, men), especially in situations where said boy (or man) is deemed respectable for the most part. 

for the most part, SNIPER MASK is a respectable man. of all the girls he’s come across in this realm, he has made it his duty to protect them because he knows that as a man, it is up to him to ensure women’s safety. he may even call himself a feminist, but that may be a step too far. 

that’s because what sniper mask is doing now is very very far from what anyone would call feminism. in fact, he’s acting in accordance to the famed statement, ‘boys will be boys’, except he considers himself a man. and as a man, he has a right to feel manly urges. 

lying to a vulnerable girl such as yourself isn’t very respectable of him, but it’s been ages since he’s had a good fuck, and he can’t deny himself after everything he’s done for all the other ditzs in this realm. he’ll apologise after, he promises, but for now, he can only focus on the way your cunt has him in a death grip. 

“m-mr. mask…” you’re pathetic. he told you that you needed to do this to practise building stamina for future disputes, knowing full well that his stamina is fine, and you won’t be getting involved in combat if he had anything to do with it. you’re just such an airhead, so dainty and fragile and easily scared by the stupidest things, and it would pain him to leave you all alone by yourself. 

“i know, sweetheart, but we need to do this. it’s necessary to ensure your and my survival.” it absolutely isn’t, but he’s telling you that to keep himself warm and snug inside your cunt. he has you pressed up against the wall of one of the abandoned high rises, far away enough from the rest of the players to make sure he doesn’t get caught. 

your eyes flicker into the back of your head as your hands brace against the wall, bare nipples pressed into the brick through your torn shirt. “s-shit, ‘m gonna cum—“

sniper’s hands grip onto your hips hard, gloved fingers staining your flesh with fresh bruises as he pulls you back on his length repeatedly. “can’t have you cummin’ yet, angel. you have to hold it. stamina, remember?”

your eyes widen as you remember what he said. you have to hold out for as long as possible. do as he says because he’s a mask and you’re just a human, and a weak one at that. his experience surpasses yours tenfold, so he knows what’s best for your survival, right? 

so you hold it for him, cunt clenching down tightly and hands forming into fists as you squeeze your eyes shut. he isn’t making it very easy for you; his blunt cockhead hits your cervix head on with every thrust, and his hands periodically crawl around your torso to play with your nipples. to add on to the sensations, it’s beginning to get a little windy out, and the cool breeze brushes against your agitated clit, causing small streams of wetness to spurt from your depths with every thrust. 

you want to give up. you wish you could just give up on this whole stamina building exercise and let the masks kill you, but sniper’s cock feels so good, and if he doesn’t let you cum soon, you might lose what little brain cells you have left. 

“i know you want it, doll, but y’gonna have to be patient, okay?” his deep voice rattles through his mask. “gotta hold out f’me. gonna make you a great fighter, okay?”

“y-yes sir,” you whimper, gasping when his gloved hand comes down on your ass with a slap! 

“good girl. turn around f’me.” he unsheathes his cock and watches you struggle to turn around on shaky legs, back now pressed to the wall and thighs slightly parted as your tits spill out of your shirt. you look like a mess, eyelids drooping and lips parted gently, and he wonders why oh why you haven’t caught onto his scheme yet. 

you, on the other hand, are confused for different reasons. you can’t even see his face, for crying out loud, so why do you want him to keep fucking you so bad? thoughts of stamina building or whatever fly right out of the window as he presses your waist back up against the wall, pulling your leg around his waist before lining his tip up with your hole. 

“you can cum for me this time, doll. i think it’s about time you felt some real pleasure.” there he goes again, helping out poor little girls like you down on their luck. 

he even has the audacity to smile to himself under his mask as he watches you convulse from orgasm, your tiny hands squeezing his biceps and eyes rolling into the back of your head lewdly. he follows not too long after, his grunts as shallow as his thrusts as he spurts rope after rope into your twitching cunt. 

does he feel bad for cumming inside? not really. girls like you are only good for one thing in a place like this; to be good, compliant little cumdumps for respectable, hardworking men like himself. 

PREVIOUS : LUCKY GIRL ft. daichi sawamura NEXT : SWEET TALK ft. choso

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© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[0mg-bird]

Caught In The Rain ~ Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your date with Tyler gets spoiled when a storm rolls in, but there’s an upside to getting caught in the rain.

Warnings: Smut! And cursing

This was only your second date, but Tyler has been pining for you for a while. Sitting in the same booth in your section, he’d order the same thing and hang around the diner where you worked for too long. At first, you wanted nothing to do with his conceited energy, but after you finally got to know him a little better, you came around to the idea of having dinner with him.

The first date went well, the night was fun and romantic, and now as he picks you up to spend the day on his family property, you imagine it will be the same. He had everything planned, it would just be the two of you. You’d have lunch on the deck, you’d go horseback riding down to the creek and maybe have a few drinks.

So far, everything was going perfectly, it wasn’t until the two of you sat on the creek bed that trouble started to arise.

Tyler sat with his back against a tree, you laid between his long legs with your back to his chest. The two of you drank your beers while he told you a story from his bull riding days.

“I hit the mud pretty hard, I honestly thought I broke my back.” He said, letting his fingers brush through your hair.

A shiver ran through you at the intimate touch. “Wow, you have to be some kind of crazy in order to willingly get on an animal who wants to stomp you into the ground.” You say, trying not to focus on the heat flushing through you.

Tyler chuckles, the shake of his chest vibrates you. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that. My mama thought that when I gave up rodeo, she’d finally not have to worry about me, but then I told her I was gonna be a storm chaser and she about had a heart attack.”

You laugh as you bring the can to your lips, about to tell him something when the rumble of thunder in the distance catches your attention. The two of you look up to the once clear sky to see the way dark clouds roll in.

“Well, Mr Weatherman, that doesn’t look good to me.” You say, making him sigh.

“No, it doesn’t.”

You stand, immediately he misses your touch. “I don’t have my degree in meteorology or anything but it looks like we better head back.”

He follows suit. “There goes the day I had planned.”

He can’t help but feel utterly disappointed as the first few drops of rain come. You look to him in guidance.

“I take it you didn’t have ‘rain soaked evening’ on your list, huh?”

He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t exactly on my agenda.” Then, he urges the horse he was on to go a little faster. “Let’s go before we melt out here.”

Despite the two of you racing each other back to the barn, by the time you got there, the light drizzle had become a full on downpour. The two of you quickly untack the horses and put them back in their stalls. You stand at the large barn door and look at each other.

“Ready?” He asks you, taking in the way your wet hair falls in a perfectly messy way.

You bite your lip, then nod. “I’m ready when you are.”

He slowly reaches to grasp your hand, a spark goes through him as he sees the way it fits in his. “Alright, let’s hope we don’t drown on the way back to the house.”

You laugh, then tug him along with you as you brave the storm. Cold and thick water droplets pummel the two of you as you race back to shelter, thunder claps, making you shake in surprise. You can’t stop your giggle as you become soaked to the bone, Tyler quickly pulls open the screen door and urges you inside.

You shiver, dripping onto the hardwood floors. “That was brutal.” You say as your teeth chatter.

He pulls you into his arms, embracing you. “Jesus, you’re freezing, sweetheart.”

You nod feverishly, laying your head against his chest. “I feel you shaking too, cowboy, you aren’t fooling me.”

He pulls away, only to guide you up the stairs.

“Tyler, we’re dripping water everywhere.” You fuss.

“I’ll clean it up later, c’mon.”

In his bathroom, he hands you a fluffy towel. You take it gratefully and soak up the water caught in your hair. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re slightly out of breath still, too focused on drying your skin to notice the way Tyler is looking at you.

As he runs his own towel over his head, he takes in your form. Still shaking, eyes wide, clothes soggy, you look absolutely beautiful.

“I’m sorry the night’s ruined.” He tells you, making you look up at him finally.

His white t shirt is practically transparent now and it clings to his upper body deliciously. His hair looks darker and it lays against his forehead.

“The night isn’t ruined, I had a great time.” You smile.

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, staring deeply at each other before Tyler clears his throat. “You can let your boots dry in here.” He says, kicking off his own boots.

“Oh.” You blush at the way he moves past the moment so quickly. “Thanks.”

Once you’re out of your soggy shoes, he brings you into his bedroom as he searches for some clothes you can wear. The large window is covered in rain and flashes of lightning light up the room every once in a while.

“Here you go, you’ll warm up once you’re out of your wet stuff.” He hands you one of his t shirts and a pair of boxers, you take them with gratitude.

“Thank you.”

You look at the clothes in your hand, then to him, then to the door. When he gets the hint, he scrambles. “Right, sorry, sorry.”

He leaves the room, you hide your smile as you slowly shut the door. Tyler stands, trying not to be too perverted but he can’t help himself, he watches through the crack the door left when you didn’t shut it all the way. You peel your soaked shirt off and drop it to the floor, then un button your jeans. As you pull them down your legs, he takes in a deep breath.

There you stood, half naked in his bedroom.

The sight of you sent a rush of attraction through his body, his skin buzzed. He sees you pick up the shirt, then pause.

You turn, facing the door before stopping.

You knew he was right there on the other side of it, looking utterly perfect. Would he reject you? Would he tell you it’s too soon?

Your chest pumps up and down as you try to talk yourself out of it, but you can’t. You stalk to the door, pulling it open and there he was, already looking at you.

Without a word, he’s embracing you, one hand on your cheek, the other on your bare waist as he bruises his lips onto yours. You breathe him in, pulling him closer as he backs you into the room.

Kissing him was something you can’t believe you ever missed out on. He meets your motions perfectly, tilting his head to slot his mouth with yours. You groan, hands pulling at his wet t shirt. He pulls back, letting you take it off.

“Do you want this?” He asks, watching you look over his toned upper body.

You meet his starving eyes and nod. “I do.”

Immediately, he pulls his belt loose and unzips his jeans. You pull him back to you, lightly gasping as the backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed. With light pressure, he pushes you to sit. Your greedy hands tug his jeans down his thighs, you continue to shake as you stare at him in just a pair of boxers.

“Are you shaking cause of the rain or because of me?” He asks, his hand burying in your hair.

“Both.” You look up at him with round eyes.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “We don’t have to.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I want it, Ty. I’m just a little…nervous.”

His brows furrow. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Looking down at you, asking for him, it makes his brain short circuit. He leans down, hands on either side of you, pressed into his mattress, his body movement urges you to scoot up the bed before he’s laying you flat. Hands in his hair, you get lost in the feeling of his tongue pressing against yours. Your eyes are heavy, but as he separates your thighs and slots himself between them, you’re on high alert.

Your knees cage his hips in, when he deepens the kiss further, you can feel the brush of his hard on against the growing heat between your legs. You lightly gasp, you didn’t want to admit it but the feel of him was intimidating.

Tyler pulls away, staring down at you with deep eyes. “I’m kind of grateful for the rain now, I wouldn’t have been able to get this close without it.” He says in a heavy tone. You sit up just a touch so he can unclasp your bra, then he’s pulling it off to join the other soggy clothes on the floor.

“How do you know that it’s all the rains fault?” You question, trying to sound coy but as his large hand palms your breast, your voice wavers and you fall back against the pillows.

Tyler grins at the reaction. “Would you have let me touch you like this if it had turned out to be a calm evening?” His mouth takes a moment to work down your neck.

“I’m sure the storm helps.” You groan, a strike of lightning illuminating the shape of him.

You watch his head as he dips to kiss over your breasts, hot and open mouthed kisses that have your skin aflame. He trails down your stomach, kissing just below your naval as he pulls at the lace of your underwear. He looks up at you, making sure what he’s doing is okay before he does it.

You watch his back flex, the low light painting him in such an artistic way. You squirm with anticipation, and when his fingers collect the arousal of your core, you can’t help but whimper. He curls his two fingers up your center, swiping perfectly at the bundle of nerves that longs for affection.

“Do you like this?” He asks, slowly pressing into your entrance.

“Yes.” You shutter. Clenching around his fingers, you can feel precisely the way he pumps his pointer and middle finger in and out of you, slowly at first. The action has you taking shallow breaths. “Don’t act like you’re going to break me.” You say, digging your heels into the mattress. “Show me what you want to do, Ty.”

He looks at you, searching your face for any doubt before curling his fingers with no warning. The noise you let out is shrewd and entirely a whine. He’s addicted, figuring out that he wants you to keep making those sounds. He does it again, hitting a perfect spot inside of you that makes you feel warm and your stomach fuzzy.

You grasp onto his wrist, keeping his hand in the position it’s in. “Keep doing it, it feels so good.”

Your eyes shut, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, making your moans come out muffled.

“Is it this easy for you to get unwound? Just a couple minutes of my fingers inside of you and you already want to cum?” He asks, leaning down to your ear. “I could listen to you pant all day, I wonder what it’ll sound like when I’m fully inside of you?”

His filthy words put an image in your head and immediately, there’s a knot forming in your stomach.

A loud clap of thunder echos around you, rumbling the room and you yelp at the shock of it, your hand grasps the back of his neck and your head turns to watch the window.

“Shhh, don’t be scared, pretty girl. Focus on me instead, how good my fingers are fucking you.” He coos to you, lightly kissing your temple and your cheek.

The mewls and moans are getting closer and heavier as you feel your peak form. When he pulls his soaked fingers from you, you don’t even have time to process before he’s focusing back on your clit.

Slow and with tasteful pressure, he runs the pads of his fingers in a circle over you. His mouth waters at the sight, it has him considering if the second date is too early to pin your hips down as he eats you out. He wants to see the look on your face as you drip down his chin, wants to fight for air as your thighs suffocate him.

That’ll have to come later because your chest heaves up and down and you dig your head into the pillow. “Tyler, wait, I’m going to finish.” You warn.

“Good, I want you to. C’mon, cum for me, show me how good this is making you feel.”

Your mouth hangs open. “So good, you’re making me feel so, so good.”

Fingers digging into the sheets, you feel your body clench, then his name is falling from your lips as relief floods you. Tyler watches in awe, seeing the glow you have as you whimper, processing the pleasure you just went through.

“You did so good.” He praises, kissing your lips. “You warming up now?”

You nod. “Trust me, I’m warm.”

He chuckles, pulling your thighs forward to close any space between your dripping center and his boxers. Cautiously, he pulls the material down, a wet spot already on them from the precum that dripped from him. He sees the way your eyes widen, then he feels your warm grip on him as you stroke him up and down. The touch of your palm against his erected length makes his vision blurry for a moment.

“Make me yours, Ty.” You beg, eyes wide and still blown from the orgasm you just went through.

He groans, getting lost in the chills of pleasure. When he gains his composure, he’s pulling your grip from him and kissing you in a sweltering heat. You moan into his mouth.

“I’ll grab a condom.” He mutters, going to pull away.

You protest immediately. “No, I don’t want the condom. I’m on the pill, and I can trust you, right,” You say, desperate for his lips again.

“Of course you can, but are you sure?” He asks.

You nod, pulling him back towards you. “I want all of you, please.”

Your voice was so needy and it was just for him. Tyler nods, kissing your neck as he grips himself and guides to your entrance. At the first feeling of his tip brushing against your wetness, your thighs lock around his hips.

“Just breathe.” He coaches you, briefly looking at the storm outside before pushing his hips forward.

You lose your breath as he slowly enters your walls, he keeps going until he’s bottomed out and you feel the intrusion of him in an almost stinging way.

You groan, head falling back and you startle again at the thunder.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” Tyler states, slack jawed. He looks down at your expression. “You’re okay, take as long as you need, sweetheart.”

Your hands slide along his shoulders, you adjust and stretch around him perfectly. Swallowing thickly, you softly nod. “Okay, just start slow.”

He focuses on control, as he gently pulls out a few inches and lightly thrusts back in, your walls are welcoming him too well. It makes him feel intoxicated and it’s just getting started.

Your finger tips press into his skin, you slowly becoming more comfortable with the rhythm. Your little huffs tell Tyler you’re ready for more, so his hips adjust and he speeds up his movement.

“This is good, fuck, this is better than good.” You whine, hand slipping up into his hair.

“I’m trying not to cum too fast but you’re making it pretty hard, sweetheart.” He tells you before he hikes on of your legs up to wrap around his hips. You do the same with the other and at the slight change of position, you inhale sharply and grip his hair.

“Fuck, you’re so deep. Go harder, I want it.”

Your dirty words spin his mind dizzy, he does just what you say. Grunts leave him as he fucks into you, he kisses your sweet lips passionately. He wanted to give you it all, wanted to give you pleasure in any way you asked for it. The white lightening coming through the window paints your skin perfectly, as your chest heaves up off the mattress, he watches you like you’re in art form.

“You’re gorgeous.” He praises, sliding out of your dripping core.

Before you can protest or even miss him filling you up, he’s gripping your hip and instructing you to roll over. You hide your smirk, hungry for something new. You turn onto your stomach, then feel the way he pulls at your hips, pulling your ass up.

“You want it harder? Deeper? I’ll give it to you, darlin’. Whatever you want.” He says through bared teeth as he kneels behind you.

You gasp as he slips right back in, jerking into you.

The feeling of him deeply fucking you from behind is what has you heaving into the pillow. The change of angle is making your toes curl, he’s brushing against a spot inside of you that makes your skin feel hir, it starts a knot inside of you.

“You’re even gorgeous like this. Shit, I love the way you look, taking me so good.” He says, biting his bottom lip.

You turn, looking back at him as his big hands pull you back into him, trying to push you further to your downfall. The sounds the two of you make are crude and wet, you can barely even form sentences. Your breath quickens, your legs begin to wobble at the waves of pleasure crashing over you as he hits it perfectly and over and over. You haven’t been with many people, but by far, the way Tyler is making you feel is better than anything you’ve previously experienced. Your open mouthed moans are entirely whiny.

“I’m so close.” You hum out, gripping the pillow your face is pressed against to ground yourself.

Tyler curses behind you, suddenly burying himself deep inside you. “I’m right there too, sweetheart.” He huffs.

Your eyes screw shut, muscles contracting as the tip of your second orgasm comes. “Fuck, Tyler!” You cry, over stimulated by the way stutters in his movements and pushes deep inside of you.

His head falls back, you pulse around him as you finally reach your finish. Tyler grunts once more and moans as he finishes inside of you.

You let yourself collapse fully onto the bed, taking Tyler down with you. His weight is comforting on top of you as he catches his breath. After a moment, he slowly pushes off of you and slides out of you. You cry out quietly as pulls out.

“Shh, you’re alright.” He says, laying beside you.

He pushes your hair off your shoulder, then gently leans to kiss your warm skin. You turn onto your back, chest fluttering up and down. You gently reach to touch his face and smile wide.

“Kiss me.” You tell him.

“Yes ma’am.” He grins, closing the close proximity and gently kisses you, slow and sweet.

He tucks loose hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead when he pulls back. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch out the window, seeing the rain continue to fall. After a moment, Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel. You watch him with affection as he gently cleans the mess between your legs. He kisses your knee and then moves to pull his boxers back on.

Lying on his chest, your fingertips dance over his skin. “I’d say the rain made the date better.” You declare.

He lightly laughs. “Yeah, nothing ruined after all.”

[ohmygraves]

some more period related stuff cuz i hate bleeding and being born with a uterus

inspired by this piece by @dmitriene !

okay, so say that the reader is someone who grew up in a "traditional" household. being taught that period is an "embarrassing" thing, that you clean up after your own mess, even if you're feeling like your body is being torn into two pieces. even if the job takes two person to do.

it took a while for you to get out of that kind of family dynamics, and now that you're together with simon (either married or dating) you understand that maybe your period doesn't have to be something that's so shameful.

one day you bled through your pads or whatever period products you use, the blood leaked everywhere. On the shorts you wear to bed, the new satin sheets you just bought, the thick comforter on the bed, simon's... oh god you even bleed on him.

of course, you panicked. one because now you had to somehow clean everything yourself and then get back to bed to get some rest before the sun goes up, and that you had to wrangle those pants and sheets from simon so you could clean them properly. this was your nightmare and you're not sure if you could even deal with everything.

you were about to cry and pass out from the sheer overwhelming feeling before simon wakes up, seeing the blood on the bed and on him and on you and he just let out a sigh before pulling you to the bathroom, giving you a pat on the back and kisses your forehead to calm you down.

"y're bleedin' onto the floor, sweetheart... c'mere..." he whispered, didn't expect you to start crying instead after he said that. oh god, i have to mop the floor too, you thought.

"what're you crying for, love? it's okay. i'll handle the mess."

you tried to form words, but all that came out were sobby mess. "b-but... 's blood... dirty..."

if he could roll his eyes further he could've seen the inside of his head.

"love, really? you think i'm bothered by a little bit of blood?" he let out a sigh. "do you remember what i do everyday?"

"it's different!"

"'s not. blood's blood," he sighed, "take off your pants."

you didn't want to make him more angry, so you obliged, letting him throw the stained clothes away. he took off his own stained pants, grabbing a clean one for himself before telling you that you should probably shower and get yourself settled down, he'll be outside cleaning everything off the bed. you reluctantly agreed, you felt really gross anyway and shower might help.

when you're done, he prepared you some new pads, clean set of clothes, the dirty clothes you wore earlier were now gone. the bed is cleaned, though missing the comforter and the sheets have been replaced. the blood on the floor is also clean, he must've mopped the floor while you were inside.

"how's my love doin'? better, i hope?" he came up behind you and hugged you. "threw everything into the washer, everything's sorted."

"simon, i have to handwash them..."

"do you want to handwash the comforter too? be my guest, then."

you sighed, hand washing the comforter would've been absolute hell.

"just come back to bed, love... everything's clean."

"bed's stained, right?"

"'s all good, i flipped it over."

good enough.

you laid back down with simon, the clean sheets feel nice on your skin. it seems like he got another blanket, though not as thick as your usual comforter, still better than nothing. hopefully the stain on the comforter will be gone by tomorrow.

"sorry that i woke you up..."

"just go to bed, love. 's late." simon grumbled, pulling you into a hug. seems like he's not used to the thinner blanket too, seeing how he's snuggling into you closer. it is quite cold without it, the two of you just got used to the thick comforter.

"okay," you closed your eyes, feeling better. "i love you, simon."

simon only grumbled in response, his face already buried in the crook of your neck.

you hoped that there won't be anymore leakage later.

[buck-star]

Valentines sparkle

Overhearing a conversation between two girls, Logan doubts himself a lot more than he should. Trying to have you see and feel the sparkle of Valentine’s Day.

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.082 Words

Warnings/Tags: fluff, softness, insecurity, mention of past sexual content, petname [trouble, baby]

Authors Note: Thought about a little something for the Event Loveuary by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt, so here you are. Have fun and enjoy. There are one or two scenes where I could definitely think about a little something, if someone is interested. Divider made by me.

Events: Sweetheart Bingo [Row One-One | I’m yours]

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

His eyes roam over the aisles of the shop; everywhere is pink and red stuff, heart-shaped or with hearts and flowers on them. His heart clenches as he notices another girl with her best friend walking to the little spot with chocolate and little boxes made for rings or cards — concerts, trips, everything.

“Maybe he’s asking me then. I saw he looked at these little boxes last time we went shopping. And today he went out, telling me he has to get something from the office. The office isn’t open today,” she says with a wide grin on her face. Her best friend giggles slightly, looking at the boxes as well; her eyes light up when she sees a small one she likes.

“Hopefully I will be that one. It’s so pretty,” she mumbles and lifts a small box in a heart-shaped form with small roses all over it. She holds it almost in her friend's face, who’s looking through the others to find her favorite. “Does he even know what you like? I mean, he’s a man after all, isn’t he?”

Both of them laugh. The girl who’s talking about her boyfriend nods. She’s reaching for another little box and holding it out. It’s a rose-shaped box, and there are a few little roses too. “He does, mostly. But look at this box; you can let them engrave your names in it.”

They put the boxes away again but keep standing there. The girl who’s pretty sure her boyfriend is going to ask her to marry him points at a few more things, telling her friend she needs that too. While her friend always shows other stuff that she likes and keeps asking if the man really knows what her friend likes.

“Lo? Baby?” Your soft voice comes from behind him when you place some sweets and drinks in the cart in front of Logan. He’s turning around, a slight frown on his face, but he tries to force a smile on his lips and nods. “Hey, you good? You look… I don’t know, confused, unsure?”

“Mhm, ‘m fine, trouble,” he grumbles and turns back to the cart and shoves it in front of himself through the aisle. You walk next to him, keeping a close eye on your boyfriend, who does not look as good as he tries to pretend. “Need something else?”

You shake your head and lead him to the cashiers. Logan nods; he’s not too much into shopping, and the conversation between these two women made him feel uncomfortable. An aching feeling in his chest while he thinks about the relationship with you.

“Baby, can you please—“ you giggle when you pull the cart closer to you. He narrows his eyes, looking at you, then at the cashier, and nods. Logan didn’t notice his tight grip around the cart or that he remained in his spot while the people before you already walked out of the shop.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and helps you with the groceries. You notice Logan’s narrowed eyes, his lips in a thin line, and his jaw clenched harshly. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t crush the eggs he’s holding in his hands, or the bottle he’s handing you.

You stay quiet, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable. So you just pay and let him push the cart out of the shop to the truck. He’s grumbling under his breath, his knuckles turning white with the force he’s using to hold the handle of the cart.

“Lo, you know, whatever it is that bothers you, you can talk to me. You don’t have to break the cart to get out of your mood, and you don’t have to swallow it all,” you say softly, placing your hand on his thick, hairy arm. His green eyes drop to your hand; he loves how small your hand looks compared to his arm, but he keeps his cold expression. Logan lets his eyes trail down your arm, over your shoulder to your face. His eyes lock with yours, and he nods.

“I know, trouble,” he whispers. Of course, he knows. You sit down at night with him to make sure he knows that he’s not alone. You’re staying up all night with him when he has nightmares and is afraid to get back to sleep. “But it’s nothin’.”

You nod, not convinced by him, but you don’t want to push either. So you just put the groceries in the car. Logan keeps grumbling and mumbling under his breath, his eyes moving back and forth between the shop and you, but he doesn’t say a word.

The drive back home is quiet except for the music, the only sound next to the engine that fills the car. Logan acts like he’s focused on the street, even though you feel his eyes on you every now and then. They are piercing, intense, and something is bringing deep inside of them, a fire he doesn’t dare to let out.

His lips part, but he stays quiet. You look out of the window, watching the people and houses pass by. Logan and you live outside of town, in a little wooden house that offers the two of you a comforting and relaxing place without too many people around.

He parks the car and gets out; you follow him. Logan’s intense stare is still on you when you grasp two of the paper bags to carry them inside. He does the same, but instead of just two paper bags he takes six and brings them into your shared house.

Shopping with your boyfriend is pretty easy since he can carry so much more, and you don’t have to walk back and forth to carry all the groceries. You kick the door closed and shrug off your jackets and shoes, walking into the kitchen where Logan is already unpacking all the groceries.

“Trouble?” He asks, his voice shaking slightly, and he keeps his back to you. You hum, letting him know he can continue talking. “‘M sorry. I just… I got lost in my thoughts.”

“I know, you’re an open book for me, baby,” you reply, walking over to him. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind while you push your head underneath his arm to look up at him.

Logan looks down, smiling softly at you. You’re just too adorable when you do that. His heart skips a beat, but the flutter is soon replaced with the heavy uncertainty again. “There were two girls who talked about one of the girl's boyfriend. She said she thinks he’s asking her to marry him, and her friend asked her to… if he even knows her because he’s a man,” Logan whispers, turning around in your warm embrace to face you. You’re tilting your head up, listening intensely to your boyfriend. “I don’t want to disappoint you with not getting engaged on Valentine's Day… and I… I don’t know if you… thought I would ask you to, or if I know you to buy you something you would like; I’m a man too.”

You chuckle softly; this man is just too adorable for his own good. “I don’t expect you to ask anything like that, Lo. I don’t even expect a present from you for Valentine’s Day or any other event,” you say softly, bringing your hands to his firm chest.

“But I wouldn’t even know what you like anyway,” he grumbles, doubting himself. Even though he should know better, even though you know better, you let him speak without interrupting him. “I’m your boyfriend; I should give you something. I should know what you love, what I could get you as a present.”

You smile, snaking your hands from his chest up to capture his cheeks and pull him down, his face only inches away from yours. “You remember what you got me for Christmas?”

Logan’s lips curl into a soft smile, and he nods his head immediately. His green eyes light up, and he grabs your waist tightly, pulling you closer. “This big stuffed animal, it doesn’t even fit in our bed, but you love it, trouble. Of course, I know what I gave you for Christmas; how could I forget that sweet smil—“

His eyes widen when he notices; he knows you. Logan knows what you like. He gave you a present for Christmas that made your smile bigger than he has ever seen a smile and your eyes were brighter than the sun when you unwrapped it.

“I know you… I know what you like; that’s why you mean?” He asks. You nod with a soft grin on your lips. “But that’s different; you told me you liked it. But—“

“You don’t have to read my thoughts, Lo,” you mumble. Logan shakes his head; he would love to read your thoughts. He would love it to make sure you always get what you want.

“But… even though I know what you like. Or you tell me what you like. Celebrating such a day…? It feels just like I don’t deserve to celebrate it. I don’t think I deserve you, and yet we want to celebrate it?”

“We don’t have to. We can also spend the day like every other day,” you say softly, but Logan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. Maybe you wouldn’t be, but he would be at himself for acting like it’s nothing special. “But you deserve love, so much love, so don’t dare to doubt it, Lo. But if you doubt it, then I will prove to you that you’re wrong. Because I love you, every day. Not just on Valentine’s Day.”

“I love you too, but you love special days; you love Valentine’s Day…” he mumbles, remembering the conversation you had on a date where you saw some hearts and roses, and it reminded you of Valentine's Day. You confess that the sparkle of the day wasn’t there since you and your ex-boyfriend broke up, but you still liked the thought of it and hoped someone would bring back the sparkle one day. “I want to bring back the startle for you. I want to be the one who gives you a reason to love Valentine’s Day, to love every day with me.”

“I love every day with you.”

“Trouble… I want to make it a special day. So shut up and be good for me,” Logan grumbles, a soft smile on his plump lips. “Do you remember the little cabin with the sauna and the hot tub?”

You nod with a grin; the sauna and the hot tub were a lot of fun in every way you can think of having fun with Logan. “Mhm… how can I not after having to clean the whole sauna because someone thought about spilling his cum everywhere but where he said he wanted it to be?”

Logan blushes, his fingers digging further into your skin, and he leans his head down. “You’re playing with fire, trouble.”

“It’s true. You said you want—“ you tease with a smile but get interrupted by Logan, who narrows his eyes slightly. He digs his fingers further into your skin, pulling you closer with a low grumble in his chest.

“How about we keep your pretty mouth shut before I have to stuff it?” Logan growls, pressing his plump lips on yours to shut you up. You chuckle, kissing him back softly while you try to push your tongue through his lips. Logan groans into your mouth, not letting you dominate him in the slightest. “We are spending Valentine’s Day in that cabin, in that hot tub, in that sauna. With movies, sunsets, sunrises, and food. Maybe some chocolate and ice cream, too.”

And so you do; you spend Valentine’s Day with Logan in that pretty cabin. Most of the day in either the hot tub or the sauna with Logan buried inside of you. Or on the couch in his arms while he turns on one cheesy movie after the other. Logan even asked you to let him help you cook the dinner for the two of you, even though he spent most of the time kissing your neck and keeping his strong arms tightly around your waist while he mumbles praises about how good you feel and how perfect you are. And yes… he helps you to bring back the sparkle of Valentine’s Day, not just for you, but also for himself.

Wanna see some more of Logan and Trouble? Let me know if you have any ideas.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @fandomxo00 @blackhawkfanatic [tag yourself]

[pinkbeanii]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝓡𝓸𝔂𝓪𝓵 𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

-green flags & sweet gestures-

Summary: how the boys would give you the royal treatment and how you'd make sure they know they're loved as much as they love you.

Warnings: mentions of food, social anxiety, and showering together (soul's part)

a/n: I love the "princess treatment" hcs, so I wanted to make one for p1h. I say royal treatment bc that just feels more gender neutral for me. Also, this is probably ooc or bad characterization, but everything here is fictional so it isn't a big deal lol.

-keeho-

{giving} drives you everywhere

When he's free, this man is so so insistent about driving you around.

He loves spending time with you, and if he has the time in his busy schedule to be with you, he's gonna take advantage of it.

Even if it means having to deal with rush hour traffic, bad city drivers, or sacrificing sleep for late night rides.

Keeho just loves to be around you, and loves to do things for you. Very much an acts of service lover. He feels good just turning on some background music and listening to you ramble as he keeps his eyes on the road.

{receiving} shoulder & back massages

Please, for the love of everything good in this world, massage his shoulders!

Keeho has so much stress and tension stored in his upper body, mostly neck and shoulders.

If you randomly start massaging those areas he will actually melt, it might hurt a bit at first bc there's so much tension there, but you both can feel the muscles loosen within seconds.

The first time you did it Keeho thought he fell in love with you all over again.

theo

{giving} fixing your clothes

Whether it's tying your shoes, pulling your shirt down if it's riding up, or untangling your accessories, he's on it.

He's pretty observant, definitely notices any outfit, malfunctions or little things before you do. It's also because he is looking at you almost 24/7.

Theo is pretty quick at fixing little issues with your outfit. Half the time you wouldn't even notice till after he's pulling his hands away. He's discreet with any malfunctions and has such a gentle touch.

It gives him an excuse to touch you as well, and he loves being able to help you with the little things.

{receiving} soft flirting

Theo isn't flustered easily, putting up a pretty indifferent face and attitude, which doesn't change much when it comes to you. Ofc he's sweet and shows he loves you, but he's not the most vocal about it

However, the moment you compliment him, he's gone. It's not always obvious, but you can tell by the raised eyebrows and twitch in his lips.

It works the same with pickup lines, specifically cheesy one liners, he will sometimes let out a little giggle if you catch him off guard.

You're never too outwards and aggressive with flirting, neither of you are like that. But soft words and teasing lines are something Theo really likes coming from you.

juing

{giving} good night & good morning texts

It doesn't matter when he goes to sleep or wakes up, this man has your schedule memorized.

Jiung will text you good night and a sweet message around the time he knows you get home from your day.

And get ready for a "good morning sweetheart" text with some encouragement while you're getting ready for your day.

He's so sincere about it too, it's not a chore for him, he genuinely wants to send you little messages to remind you he loves you.

{receiving} surprises & dates

Please please please surprise him with a date! He will have the cutest and biggest smile as soon as you tell him your plan, and it's a gift to see.

It doesn't have to be super fancy or for a special occasion, just plan a little something to do while you spend some time together and he's so happy.

Maybe it's a late night movie marathon with both of your favorite snacks, or a little picnic in the park that you threw together last second. As long as he's with you he'll love it.

It reminds him that he doesn't have to take on every single responsibility, that you care about him and wanna be with him as much as he wants to be with you.

intak

{giving} gentle touches

Intak loves to show affection through touch, pda is his shit {within reason and your boundaries ofc} but he's also so sweet about it.

Loves to hold your hand and play with your fingers, or if his arm is around your waist his thumb will be rubbing little circles on you hip.

It also serves as a good reminder that he's right there next to you, that he's got you no matter what. It's grounding to have him hand gently squeeze yours periodically.

He thinks of you as something precious, he knows you're not breakable yet he still treats you with so much care.

{receiving} sharing foods

You know the saying "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach"? This is basically that, except you don't have to be the one making the food or anything like that.

If you just share a bite of what you ordered, a snack that you so happen to have, or a sip of your fancy cafe drink, he is so grateful.

Even if it's new to him, if you like it he'll try it if you're offering. And if you're the one feeding it to him he will get so giddy and giggly.

He thinks it's so romantic to share food, and also feels like it shows how well you take care of each other. He definitely shares his food too!

soul

{giving} little gifts

He is a trinket connoisseur and collector, so he definitely has a good eye for little gifts, especially if they are for you.

It isn't always silly, a large number of his gifts to you are sentimental. But the silly ones are just as sweet. But he basically always has you on his mind and it shows.

It could be as simple as "it reminded me of you!" to "I remembered that you said you still needed this version, and I thought I'd grab it!" or "This is from where we first met, maybe we should collect things from all the important dates we've had?"

Soul is almost kinda like a crow, he will find something shiny and cute and bring it back to you as a way of showing affection.

{receiving} washing his hair

Y'all have seen that video of Soul walking through the hallway with the dramatic he turns, and how frizzy and puffy his hair is? Yeah, that's what happens a lot of the time if you aren't washing his hair.

Not only does it help the look and health of his hair, he finds it so relaxing when your hands are in his hair, gently working the products into the strands.

Whether it's you showering together or him laying in the bath with you kneeling to the side, it's a sweet experience. One you both treasure.

Also, if you just wanna play with his hair, stick it straight up when it's all soapy or make it into fun shapes, he's so down. Very laid back and cool with whatever you want, just as long as your hands are in his hair.

jongseob

{giving} ordering for you

It doesn't matter if you have anxiety about ordering/talking to strangers or not, he's ordering for you. Not because he thinks you can't, if you really wanna you can, but because he wants you to be relaxed and not have to lift a finger.

It's not even a big deal at this point, y'all will walk into a restaurant and he can rattle off your order in a heartbeat. Seobie memorized stuff pretty fast, and when it comes to you it stays firmly in his head. You're important to him, ofc he remembers everything about you.

And if you are going to a new place and are having trouble deciding what to get, just look at him. Once he knows what he wants, he's looking for stuff he thinks you'd like.

It's a show of care for him, remembering the little things and making sure his lover doesn't have to do any extra work.

{receiving} sharing clothes/accessories

Doesn't matter what size you are, if your sizes are bigger or smaller than his, you're sharing. Either clothes or accessories, or both.

It's an unwritten promise to each other, what's mine is yours. You guys haven't ever really addressed it either, just asking where something is or if you're planning to wear something the other wants that day.

It's a natural thing, and it honestly feeds into the small possessive part of you. Almost like you're staking a claim, but more in a "we belong to each other" type of way

He loves it bc it reminds him of you. Jongseob gets especially happy when your scent lingers on the soft fabric of what was originally his shirt.

[yanderecxre]

Yandere!Retired Colonel headcanons

You only knew him by his nickname, "Saint", beyond that you knew nothing about him. But oh, did he know everything about you.

You, sweet and young, fresh outta college and working at the base he was stationed at before he decided to retire. You who took care of the daycare on base, who didn't even bat an eye at the insanity that the children you took care of looked like.

Saint even adopted a kid from the dumb program just to have an excuse to talk and see you, little Henry was a pain in the ass, literally and figuratively. The brat always clung to you, crying he didn't wanna go home. Making Saint look like a terrible grandfather. "Listen here you little brat, I'm trying to make sure they can't just up and leave, so start acting like I'm the greatest grandfather alive before you scare them off!"

Sweet, young bleeding heart little you. Always talking and smiling at him like he's some regular guy and not a powerful Colonel who could (and would if you ever tempted or forced his hand) ruin your budding little career before the hour ended. Of course though he'd never do that, not with how often he sees you now, at drop off, pick up, sometimes you ask guardians to help around the daycare, he's there every time.

Saint, who once he decides you're his, immediately gets to work implementing himself in your life, both personal and professional. Using little Henry as an excuse, poor boy getting used as an excuse for why the two ran into you everywhere you seemed to go. "Oh, hello Henry, Saint! What brings you two to the library?" You smile and ask as you hold a small stack of books, unaware that Saint was scanning the titles so he could ask you next time which was your favorite. Saint smiles and holds Henry's shoulder, laughing slightly. "Poor boy practically cried and threw a fit demanding we come to the library because he wanted to read and play in the kids section!" You were far too busy to see Henry glaring at Saint, his eyes darkening as you smiled and talked to him.

Saint, who finally asks you out on a proper date (you don't know of course that the date will be your last in a while, he already has your room set up in his cabin. Henry helped him pick everything out, the kid loved you too much to let his idiot of a grandfather make you feel unhappy.) When you accepted he smiled and offered to pick you up, you spent the rest of the day smiling and giggling as Henry clung to your leg pouting.

That night, you had a lovely date, perfect in every way, Saint was the perfect gentleman. Letting you order whatever you wanted and asking about your interests and life. He even insisted you call him by his actual name, Nicolas. He loved the way it rolled off your tongue, could only imagine you moaning and whimpering it as he went down on you later on-

You felt woozy during the last bit of the date, had you drank more than you thought, no way... you couldn't have, you looked up over at him, Saint looked perfectly fine, not like you. You stumbled slightly out your seat, he was there, holding you steady. "Oh dear, poor thing, let's get you home yeah sweetheart? You had lots to drink, I'll get your dessert to go." He murmured in your ear, holding you closely to his side his large hand firmly on your hip, keeping you near him.

The last thing you remember before passing out was Saint, helping you to his car. Hand on your hips as he assured you everything was alright, that you were just tipsy. Something in his voice made you feel weird but it got overshadowed by your head muddling as you whimpered softly and promptly passed out. You never knew that he drugged you, he wasn't a monster. He just needed you woozy enough to get you to his cabin.

"Don't look at me like that little brat, they're just unconscious. What? You gonna sleep by their bedside to protect their virtue?" "Yeah, because I don't trust you, grandfather." "You little fucker- Jesus! Did you just bite me?!"

[holy-puckslibrary]

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~ 

I. it’s getting so much clearer… 

Matthew regrets making you a key. 

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble. 

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring. 

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage. 

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home. 

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane. 

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare. 

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is. 

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?” 

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood. 

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven. 

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange. 

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load. 

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone. 

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it. 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand. 

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course. 

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line. 

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist." 

And he does. 

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head. 

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list. 

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one. 

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate. 

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly. 

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.” 

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard. 

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future. 

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor. 

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently. 

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did. 

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.” 

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection. 

“—looks so fucking stupid.” 

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey. 

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind. 

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day. 

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?” 

“Of course, it fucking do—” 

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting. 

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…” 

“It looks, what?” 

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you. 

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.” 

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup. 

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you. 

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat. 

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you. 

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep. 

What’s gotten into him? 

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.) 

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself. 

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge. 

Not with you looking like that.  

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.” 

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes. 

You snort. “Funny." 

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you. 

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge. 

Matthew turns you to face him without warning. 

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later. 

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest. 

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates. 

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible. 

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.  

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way. 

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey. 

“W-We need to be quick—” 

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good? 

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.  

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse. 

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.” 

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.” 

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds. 

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is. 

A robbery, if you ask him. 

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites. 

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles. 

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused. 

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes. 

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”  

“I'm not.” 

“You've never been a good liar.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect. 

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams. 

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you. 

“Don't change the subject.” 

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither. 

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.” 

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you. 

“So?” 

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive. 

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.” 

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony. 

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard. 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance. 

And you do.  

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser. 

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time. 

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade. 

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.  

Mathew smiles. 

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough. 

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.” 

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now. 

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic. 

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed. 

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life. 

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.” 

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice. 

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”  

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?” 

“They aren’t!” 

They absolutely are. 

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles. 

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple. 

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears. 

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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[gh0stsp1d3r]

uhm cowboy!rafe who tries to keep you as far away from everything illegal he does :3 !

“Well, we can’t go into town. And we sure as hell can’t stay in no hotel or anything. Sheriffs got people everywhere.” Rafe told them, everyone stopping their horses in the middle of the desert.

Robbing the bank had backfired- they had been caught, despite being so careful.

“What about your home, your missus, Rafe?” One of his friends asked, not the worst suggestion.

“Yeah, y’all ain’t close to town and-“ another started.

“Nah.” Rafe cut the boy off before he could finish his sentence, eyebrows furrowing. “What, so I can get her involved in this shit? I ain’t doin’ it.” Rafe adjusted the hat on his head, shaking his head at his gang.

“Well, I don’t see any other-“

“I said no, if any of you fellas say another word ‘bout it I’m shooting you myself.” He grumbled out, all of them shutting up and taking it as a sign to move on.

It wasn’t until a few days later when you saw him, him knocking on your door with a flower he had picked in his hands. He looked down at it, twirling it in his hands as he stood.

“Coming!” You shouted from the inside, cleaning up your hands, walking over to the door. He took off his hat when you opened the door.

“Hey, darlin’.” He spoke, your jaw dropping at the sight. You looked at him, he nervously stood in front of you, giving you a small smile. “Can I come in?” He asked you, you opening up the door more, letting him step inside.

“I missed you.” He told you when you shut the door, locking it.

“I missed you too, but where the hell were you?” You asked him, more so out of concern.

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweetheart.” He told you, going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water, downing it and sitting down, kicking his legs up onto the table.

“I was worried sick, I mean, the police came over, and you jus’ show up outta thin air now, and I mean- what the hell’d you do this time? I thought you was done with this stuff, Rafe. You told me you stopped and-“ You rambled on angrily, he felt regret in his stomach.

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, a’ight? It’s just, the boys needed my help with something. And- and, look.” He dug into his pockets, pulling out a large wad of cash- more you’ve ever seen in your life. Your eyes widened, you stopped your pacing and looked at him.

“You understand why I did it now? This shit.. can change our lives. We’re gonna get outta this damn town- get a big farm, like you always wanted, all the animals and cows you could want, and-“

You cut him off by crashing your lips into his, hopping into his lap and straddling it, your hands on your shoulders. He chuckled when you pulled away.

“Rafe! That’s a lotta money, i- I mean, Lord-“

“I know, I know. And hey, I promise you, I’m done with all this shit. No more, right? Jus’ like I promised when I married ya.” He spoke, putting his forehead against yours, and interlacing his fingers with yours. You nodded against his forehead, he smiled at your understanding and kissed your forehead again.