#i hate his eyeliner too what the fuck is that about

[lonelyplanetfag]

fuck bobby durango and his stupid touristy shark tooth necklace!!!!!!!! i hate him badly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[jakowskis]

if i ever finish my one 5 times fic about owen in dresses its OVAH

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[hisbuni]

you were too sweet to greg and rodrick hated it.

don’t get him wrong, rodrick loved how sweet you were, how you’d come to his stupid “family events” when his mom invited you even though he would tell you over and over you don’t have to come, how you help him study n’ kiss him when he gets something right, how you always give him constant compliments on his eyeliner when you don’t do it for him.

he loved it all, but not when you were nice to his brother. his snotty nosed, fuck faced brother. rodrick would complain about your babying of his brother, but you would shrug it off and say you weren’t babying him.

you were though. the way you would practically do anything for the little shit if he asked made rodrick sick. “you’re babying him,” rodrick scolded, sharing a glance between you and his younger brother as you ran your fingers through gergs' hair, trying to make it not as messy after rodrick had pushed him. satisfied with gergs' hair, you’d pull away from him and grin at rodrick.

“i am not, just trying to help,” you said, moving over to rodricks' side to kiss his cheek. rodricks' eyes would still linger on greg with watchful, squinted eyes and greg would only grin.

this was the first time greg had leverage over this brother. real leverage, and he loved it. no, greg didn't just like you for the leverage but because he actually really liked you for rodrick. he didn't completely understand why you liked his older brother, but you were definitely better than heather hills. way, way better. the constant “babying” was what he loved the most about you— right next to how beautiful he thought your eyes were.

anytime greg knew for a fact rodrick was gonna try to kill him, he’d threaten him with a call from you. “rodrick, i-i swear you don’t let me out… i-i’ll call her!” it wouldn’t scare rodrick, he’d only laugh from outside of this bedroom door and say, “gonna call my own girlfriend on me? i am soo scared. with what phone?”

yeah, most of the time it didn’t work, but when you’d came over, he’d tell you had happened and what your boyfriend had done to him. rodrick would, of course, deny, deny, deny and try to get you on his side, but it never worked, you would hug greg close to your chest and tell rodrick to apologize. rodrick would allow a fake apology to roll off of his tongue and suck his teeth, mumbling about how you’re babying him again.

greg would only grin and stick out his tongue at Rodrick as you hugged him.

“I am gonna kill you,” rodrick would mouth, pointing at him.

[mysticmoosenger]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝕗****𝕕 𝕦𝕡 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭…

synopsis: deciding to ask choso to switch roles!

themes: sub!choso, dom!reader, orgasm denial, edging, nicknames, begging, reader is evil, choso is just a little guy

characters: choso <3 love my boy and hate gege

a/n: hi very happy to be back, excited to write more. everything i’ve written previously is deleted from my page bc i want to start fresh haha. college is destroying my hopes and dreams rn. also, i didnt proofread this like at all and its 4am, so just like, ignore my fuck ups please ily

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

●・○・●・○・●

choso! ur a super freak!

He wont show it, but he is already cumming at the thought of it. He is 110% a switch, but has been taking the dominant role since you seemed so sweet and eager to let him use you to do whatever he pleased.

“baby, I dont know how you feel about it and maybe it’s weird for me to say but… do you mind if I take the lead a little?”

That caught him off guard. Like totally off guard. As he was taking off your shirt his hands froze and his assault on your neck paused, He blinked a few times and asked to make sure thats really what he heard, “…you mean like, you want to be dominant?”

You shyly nod and continue to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, his signature buns starting to unravel, somehow making him even hotter. God, you wanted to eat him alive.

After a few more seconds of processing, he quietly responds, “…yes love”

You feel him slowly kiss the marks he left you on your collarbone, his hands now gently reaching to remove your shirt. As he goes to lift it over your head, he moves back to allow you some space to wriggle the tight material past your shoulders. You catch a glimpse of his face right as he backs up, his face a bright red and his eyes looking glossy, he looks perfectly pitiful. Wow… you never realized how badly you have wanted to do this.

You manage to free yourself from your constricting top, taking off your bra as well. Choso watches you, his eyes following your every move, scanning your body. It’s obvious how down bad this poor boy is for you. You had never expected him to be this eager about switching roles.

The upper half of your clothing now gone, the red LED lights around the border of Choso’s room making your skin look flawless and irresistible. You swear you can see the poor boy drooling over you, waiting for you to order him around, use him, and make him a sobbing mess. He’s sitting in front of you on the bed, his hands tentatively resting on your thighs, staring at you with those sleepy dark eyes. He still had a bit of eyeliner on from earlier in the day, now starting to smudge and give him adorable tear stains. “okay cho… please strip for me baby”, you coo, wanting to mark up that broad muscular chest of his.

He slips his black compression tee over his head in one fluid motion, exposing his perfect abs and those sexy tattoos trailing down them leading to his hips. He stops and begins to run his hands from your waist to your tits, awaiting more instruction, already beet red and breathing fast. His heart is beating so fast that it starts to make him dizzy with lust. “I said strip cho. everything. be a good boy for me okay?”

You have never seen your man this worked up in the entirety of your relationship before. He moves at what seems like lightening speed, tearing off his pants, looking at you for approval as you nod for him to take off his boxers too. His dick springs out with possibly the hardest and angriest boner you’ve ever seen. You motion with your head for him to lay down, crawling on top of him and hovering your clothed pussy over his dripping dick. His eyes begging you to fuck him, he begins to snake his hands around your hips, trying to get you to at least touch him. “no cho, hands up by the headboard.” you say, pulling his wrists together and pinning them above his head. “if you move them I’m not letting you cum today.”

Choso nods immediately, knowing that he’d rather die than not be allowed to finish tonight. You make eye contact and slowly dip down to meet his lips with yours, your hand sliding down his arm from his wrists, gently caressing his muscular tattooed biceps. “you belong to me, got it cho?” you purr against his lips. He lets out an erotic whimper in response, which honestly takes both of you by surprise. You pause and let it replay in your head a few times before saying, “I’m totally breaking you tonight. how did I never know you had such a cute little submissive side?”

You move your hand to gently squeeze his throat and rejoin his lips, tongue grazing gently along his lips, his occasionally meeting yours. And while Choso has a submissive side, he’s still freaky. As you move to pull away, he nips at your bottom lip, making you moan in response, “god I love you.”

You begin to move down his body, leaving little nips and kisses on the way to his beautiful abs. You glance up at his flustered face as you start to fill the gaps between his tattoos with little hickies to mark your territory. “no one else is allowed to see you like this, alright cho? mmmm fuck, no one..” you moan against his skin. You love the idea of your love bites being shown off in his weekly gym pictures.

Choso is squirming, overwhelmed at the sensation of you kissing by his v-line. “..mmm pl-please y/n… ohmygo-d yes pleaseee…” he rambles, his eyes squeezing shut and his eyeliner now officially all over his cheeks, complimenting the long tattoo over the center of his nose. His hair has almost completely fallen out of his buns, now tangled and fanned out around his face. He really does look angelic. And pitiful. You just want to ruin him.

“please what baby? please stop? its too much and i should stop?” you tease as you reduce your love bites to feathered kisses, barely touching his skin. “n-nooo please no i w-want mmore~ please baby y/n p-pleas- oh my go- god fuck!” he begs, his mouth agape and his hips writhing to try to get any pressure remotely to his dick.

You decide that since he has been so good (and you just want to make him a whimpering mess) he deserves a little treat. Your lips ghost down his thigh and to his balls, placing a gentle kiss to them. You quickly suck on your fingers to give them some lube while making sure Choso has a good view, and begin to stroke his shaft. With the way Choso is moaning, you speed up your movements, twirling your fingers over his angry, dripping tip and the end of every motion. Your other arm wraps around one of his thighs, doing your best to pin him in place. His hand slid down sneakily to rest atop your head, lacing his fingers through your hair. Your tongue found a sweet spot towards the base of his balls, eliciting a loud “FUCK oh my- fuck y-yes y/n there!” You continue stroking him and swirling your tongue against his sensitive spots until he is shaking, his hips desperately attempting to buck upwards. Right as he is about to finish, you remove your hands and sit back, away from his cock.

You smile, taking in the gorgeous sight before you. Choso is breathing in loud pants, whimpering and shaking from the abrupt stop of the stimulation. His eyes are teary, his makeup smeared, and his lips are glossy from your kisses. Trailing down, there is a line of love bites leading to his tattoos. His lower abdomen is drenched in slick precum. “baby please p-please keep going~” he begs in between pants.

You giggle slightly sadistically and gently run your fingertips around his v-line and base of his dick. Moving your head up, you give him a sloppy kiss, again inciting cute whimpers from his throat. “cho love, you remember what I said earlier about your hands? Dont think I didnt notice baby…”

Choso lets out a loud moan in protest, begging you for a second chance.

Luckily for him…. the clock just hit midnight.

ending a/n: thank u for reading!! please send in requests my asks are open! or just talk to me!! love u guys and im so excited to be back! :)

[munsster]

rockstar standards

A/N: PLS PLS PLS DROP SUGGESTIONS FOR HOCKEY STEVE/EDDIE im having a total brainfart but i need to break into the hockey au game bc i love it 😻 (gif creds: @cuntyarmand)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, 90s AU

Summary: Corroded Coffin starts to gain some traction, and you can't help feeling stranded. 1.5k words

Warnings: minor angst/hurt comfort, fluff, pining, pet names (bug, sweetheart, sweets, baby), jealousy, undressed cuddling,

You watch him parade around the stage every Friday night. Sometimes he's playing the home stage, other times he books random amphitheaters and dive bars. But today, he's drenched in purple light on the outskirts of Chicago. It's by far the biggest venue Corroded Coffin has played. You sit by the pop up bar, but bodies are packed like sardines in this place. It's hot and loud, but it's worth it to see him so elated.

Even through his streaky eyeliner, you can tell he's adoring the attention of the pit. You can see their red fingernails and shiny tank tops and free flowing hair. You never thought Eddie would be the kinda thing you were attracted to. You also know he's not the kinda guy to be attracted to something like you. You know guys like Eddie usually go for the Pam Andersons and Courtney Loves. The Party girls. Not the ones who have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than watch a romcom alone.

That Sunday, Eddie pulls onto your street. It's late and he has a ringing headache. He couldn't think of anything better to do after touching down in Hawkins again. You'd headed home the night before, and it made his gut wrench knowing he wouldn't get to see you the rest of the weekend.

Your door creaks open, and he's smiling on the other side. He's already leaning against your doorway with the bouquet he bought earlier from the woman selling them on the corner.

"Missed you, bug," he huffs, "Can I come in?"

You step aside without another word, and he hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack like always. Something feels off when he sits on the couch to find you're on the complete opposite side from him. Usually, you're not shy about cuddling up beside him to watch a movie or share snacks or just talk.

He frowns and scoots closer, leaning in to grab at your ankle playfully. You kick his hand away, brow set hard above your lethal glare.

"Sweetheart," he huffs, tilting his head in confusion, "What's going on? Where's my cuddlebug?"

"I dunno, somewhere in Hollywood?"

His eyes nearly pop out of his head at that. You're his favorite girl and you know that. So why're you grilling him now.

"Tell me what's goin' on. What did I miss?"

And you look serious, too. This isn't some running joke he missed out on while he was away. He's not sure who bruised your confidence, but he's sure he'd like to have a few words with them. He hates the way your lip wobbles and your eyes avoid him cause it gives you away. That's how he knows you're heartbroken.

"Eddie," you whine, swiping a hasty tear from your cheek. "I just don't know why you keep me around when you could have any of those girls at your bon vivant gigs."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean, bug?" He barks it out on accident, sitting back on his haunches with a scowl. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm gettin’ rid of you."

"Eddie, please... you're gonna make it big and get shipped off to Tinseltown, and I'll still be here, teddy. Probably being someone's lonely, suburban housewife. It's what I'm made for, and that's not what you want."

"You're wrong."

"And maybe you should go," you whisper, choking back a sob and standing from the couch.

"No, sweets, you're wrong," he says, standing and striding over to you, "You've got me wrong, and you've got you wrong."

You cross your arms over your chest and finally look him in the eye.

"'S that so?"

"Yeah," he tuts. And he has the most charming, most dastardly smile you've ever seen, flashing his canines like a gentle killer. "'Cause I'm gonna take you with me."

"Teddy."

"Nope, I'm takin' you with me wherever I go, and there's nothin' you can say to change my mind. Even if you hate my music forever, fine, I'll fix you up in a nice five star anywhere we go. You can sit and watch all the movies you like. You'll be nobody's housewife, baby, 'cause I'm keepin' you."

You roll your eyes, batting away tears when he grabs your hand to pull you back to the couch.

"And what if I said that's not what I want?" you suggest, testing his rockstar resolve with your big, wet eyes and stubborn quips.

"Then I'll give you somethin' else. Anything else. But you're mine no matter what." If only you knew how proud it made him to call you his girl. To know you support him even if you don't love his genre.  "Now, would you come closer? You're killin' me."

You obey with a frigid pout, letting him drape your thighs over his and brush his ring clad paws over your cheeks, down your neck.

"But what about your groupies and the pretty girls at the bars or in the front row?"

"What about 'em?" he says, just barely shaking his head, "I'll have somethin' way better waiting for me."

You chuckle. "You're crazy."

He cocks a brow. "Old news."

When he notices how close you've gotten, he smiles. Your manicured nails graze over his chest with the only light washing over you from the dimly lit kitchen. He can't resist his palm curling behind your neck, pulling you close for a sweet kiss.

"Where d'you keep your vases?" he mumbles, remembering the tulips resting on the little table.

"Kitchen. Above the fridge," you say with your fingers already slotting between his to pull him towards the warm light. He loves you like this: sickly sweet and tender, holding him all gentle in your hot pulse. You go to reach for a painted ceramic vase, but he wraps his arm around you and turns you away.

"Ah ah ah, drop it, sweetheart. That’s my job," he says against your temple, holding the lip of the vase and patting your ass. He takes the bouquet from your grasp and sets both on the counter by the sink. You hand him a pair of scissors and he carefully snips the stems jagged, filling the vase with water.

His stomach flips when you wrap your arms around his waist and clasp your hands at his belt. He sets the prepared arrangement aside and turns in your embrace.

"All done," he says wickedly, palming your face with his wet hands. You jump back with a squeal, pelting a dish rag at this chest.

"Use a towel, you slob!"

He chuckles and wipes his hands on his shirt, tossing the towel over his shoulder and leering at you like he's starved.

"Come here," he mumbles. You go a little shy under his gaze, dropping your head and shuffling towards his presence. He catches you by the hips, dipping down to catch your mouth in a prying kiss. You grin against him and he groans, tugging you tight against his body.

"Always love how soft you are, baby. Surprises me every time." He shakes his wild mane and purses his lips for you to kiss this time.

"Where d'you want the flowers?" he says.

"Bedroom?"

His eyes light up involuntarily, and he grabs the vase, bounding off towards your room gleefully. You jog to catch up with him, and when you enter the threshold, he's expertly positioning the vase next to a stack of books on your dresser.

"Much cleaner than mine," he says, gesturing around the room, "You keep it nice in here."

You shrug. "Could be cleaner."

"You can never see mine," he teases, knowing full well you already have. He slings his arms low on your hips, adoring you in the blue light of dusk. "Can I undress you?"

You bow your head and whisper, "teddy..."

"Not like that. Just wanna hold you."

You kiss his slanted mouth sweetly, nodding.

He reaches for the edge of your soft cotton dress, pulling it up and over your head. He whistles low upon seeing your undergarments, whipping his shirt off and onto the floor somwhere. You giggle, helping him with his belt buckle. He traces your temple with his lips leaving kisses along the way. He steps out of his jeans and lets you lead him around the bed.

His curls sprawl out against your pillows, and he welcomes you into his side with a lazy smile. Your reach to touch his waist and softly feel over the scar below his ribs.

"Little tender, bug," he hisses. You bat your eyes up at him scared, pulling your hand away.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No, please," he whispers, cradling your wrist, his eyes locked with yours. He draws the hair away from your neck, replacing it with his fingers to dance down along your spine. You’re warmer than he’s ever felt before and thankful for it. His hands are cold, but he doesn’t have to worry about it for very long when you bring each fingertip to your lips for a kiss.

“You’re my girl, alright? Always,” he whispers and you nod, “always.”

masterlist

[suzukiblu]

Day sixteen of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“So are you the Shakira in this theoretical Disney movie, or . . .?” Tim asks instead of self-examining anything about himself whatsoever, which usually works out for the best, and Kon sniggers at him. 

“Her name was Gazelle, put some respect on it, babe,” he mock-scoffs, and Tim laughs too. “Also yes, obviously, she’s super popular, surrounded by hotties, and she’s got the best hair and best eyeliner.” 

“You’re surrounded by hotties?” Tim asks, giving him a wry look.

“Listen, Arrowette fights crime in a cheerleader skirt and an armored sports bra, Wonder Girl could bench-press not only me but a pair of eighteen-wheelers, and back at Cadmus my girl Serling both gives not a fuck about anyone else's opinion ever and somehow actually pulls off vintage sixties fashion with weird-ass colors and way too many different prints, so yeah, absolutely,” Kon replies reasonably, then makes a face. “And also our totally-just-an-urban-legend fearless leader is so hot I wanna friggin’ punch him about it, I swear. And–"

Tim trips off the sidewalk. Kon catches him by the sleeve with his free hand–and definitely also with his TTK, given that Tim doesn’t drop a single sandwich–and keeps him from landing in either the gutter or oncoming traffic. 

“Watch your step, daddy, I’d hate to have to carry you home,” he teases with a smirk. Tim is too busy experiencing a total system crash to function. 

“Robin is not hot,” he says, which is unfortunately basically the worst possible response aside from maybe saying, like, I’M not hot would’ve been. Kon laughs again. 

“Yeah, no, he is actually unfortunately pretty,” he replies in obvious amusement, making sure Tim’s caught his balance again before letting go of his sleeve to snag another three-sandwich monstrosity of a grilled cheese stack off him and take a big bite. “Like, real unfortunately, it’s so unfair. Asshole gets to be the leader and the smart one and all hot and pretty? Bullshit. Gross, gross bullshit.” 

“Uh,” Tim says inanely. He is having a very hard time not falling off the sidewalk again. Or dropping the grilled cheese. Or dropping himself and falling off the grilled cheese? He’s–what–Kon just said what? 

“C’mon, you’re a Gothamite, aren’t you?” Kon asks him with another smirk. “Show some more loyalty to the hometown team, babe.” 

“Loyalty to the hometown team is definitely not Gothamite behavior. I think we heckle the Knights more than we cheer them,” Tim replies by reflex. Kon cracks up laughing, which is helpful, because it gives Tim a moment to pull himself back together into a normal human being. 

He does not in any way succeed at pulling himself back into a normal human being, unfortunately, but not the point.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Do-Over

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, including jerks like Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson. Takes place directly after the events in Hello, Duchess.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bucky Barnes, A Deep Love of Clark Bars, Light Groveling, Bickering, Discussions of Grief, Threats of Violence, Gentle Manhandling, Brief References to Negative Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

An annoyed Ari takes a pull from his cigarette as he listens to his friend and fellow combat vet give him shit all the way from his office back in New Mexico. As soon as this was over, he was going to ditch this empty parking lot to find himself an ice cold beer and a goddamned steak. 

He was officially ready to put this day behind him. But first he needed a decent dinner.

“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” His friend begins, now that he’d finally stopped cursing up a blue streak. “Do you really mean to tell me that you took our best lead, which just so happened to be the perp’s girlfriend, and fucked it all to hell?”  

Okay, but just because that’s what happened doesn't necessarily mean that it was actually his fault. He’d just been a little off his game.

“Hey Buck, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beginning to sound as dramatic as Rogers.”

“Steve would never fuck-up something this big for us.” He could practically hear the man flipping him off.

“I’m telling you this girl would’ve cut off Golden Boy’s balls and fed them to him for breakfast, okay?” He takes another puff, flicking some of the excess ash out his driver-side window. “Trust me.”

“Hold on.” An exasperated Bucky sighs into the receiver before placing the phone on his desk to speak to whoever had just walked into his office. He hoped whoever it was had better news than he did, otherwise he feared his old war buddy might have an aneurysm.

Sometimes he got the impression that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes was wound a little too tight.    

The silence drags on as Ari contemplates getting out of his car to stretch his legs. It’s another several minutes before Bucky is back on the line, and this time he sounds positively exhausted.

“We can’t afford to lose this one, man. Westbrook might be a piece of shit, but he’s an expensive piece of shit. So while I don’t care how you feel about the girl, you need to make things right. She could have some valuable intel.”

“Yeah, I know.” His mood darkens as he flicks the cigarette onto the pavement. As he watches it hit the ground, he finds himself wondering if it was finally time to quit the cancer sticks altogether. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before.

“Besides, what do you care if she was Westbrook’s fuck buddy?” Ari’s treated to the sound of his friend unwrapping something that sounded suspiciously like a candy bar. There was only one person who was known to keep that stuff at the office.

Which meant that shit had better not come from his personal stash, otherwise Bucky Barnes was a fucking dead man.

“I don’t.” Ari growls, sucking on his teeth. “And that had better not be a Clark Bar you’re eatin'.”

“Hate to break it to ya, pal. But based on what you told me earlier, it kinda sounds like you might.” There’s an unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice, which irks the bounty hunter to no end. 

“And I think it’s finally time you got your hearing checked, old man.” He growls back, although his words lack any real fire. 

“As for your precious Clark Bars,” he continues. “See, normally I’d pass on ‘em. But Pixie’s been on a health kick lately and she threw out all the junk food. So, I’m desperate.” Bucky gives an exaggerated groan. “Plus, she has no idea about your stash.” 

“Jesus.” Ari grumbles, firing up his engine with the intent to head back to the house he was currently renting. “I really wish you two would just suck face already and get it over with.”

“Mind your fucking business, Levinson.”

“Then keep your filthy hands off my fuckin’ Clark Bars, Barnes.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, prompting Ari to roll his eyes. All he wanted was for this conversation to fucking end.

“Look.” Bucky grunts. “You bring down this Westbrook fucker and I’ll buy you a goddamned case of those stupid bars. Alright?”

“You got yourself a deal.” Turning on his truck, Ari slowly heads for the exit as his stomach begins to rumble. Maybe he’d track down some shrimp to go with that steak.

“And fix whatever it is you fucked up with that bookstore broad while you’re at it.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He grimaces as his mind treats him to images of you threatening him with your taser. “But if that little spitfire puts me in the hospital you’re footin’ the bill.” And with that, Ari hangs up the phone.

As of now, he was officially done for the night.

A Few Days Later…

You’re sitting on the floor of your stockroom when you hear the tinkling of bells signaling the arrival of a customer. Groaning as you rise to your feet, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants and head to the front of the store. 

Business had been unusually slow today, so hopefully this patron - whoever they were - would be in the mood to buy something. As you were driving in this morning, you’d briefly considered holding another sale. Maybe it was time for another book fair. That seemed to be pretty popular the last time you’d done it. 

You’re in the middle of making a mental note to reach out to the local librarian when your eyes land on the absolute last person you wanted to see standing in your lobby: Ari Levinson. 

Not this guy again. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, offering up an unapologetic shrug as he takes in the sight of you in your form-fitting yoga pants. 

Apparently you’d spoken out loud. Perhaps if you kept doing it, the man would eventually get offended enough to leave. Wishful thinking at its finest.

When the intruder realizes you don’t plan on speaking again, he decides to take advantage of the silence by doing something completely unexpected. 

“I just dropped by to, uh…” He takes a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “Apologize for how our last meeting went. While it wasn’t my intention to insult you, I know that I did.” One big hand comes up to massage the back of his neck. “Just wanted to offer that, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Oh. Wow.” You reply dumbly, crossing your arms over your chest. For whatever reason, you got the distinct impression that he didn’t make apologies often. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. I don’t.” His lips turn up in an awkward grin as he takes a step toward you. “But a real man knows how to own up to his shit, which is exactly what I’m doin right now.”

“Okay.” 

Mouth suddenly dry, you go to take a step back, only to find that your legs no longer work. Next thing you know, Ari is in your space, his boot clad feet are now mere centimeters from your well-loved sneakers as he towers over you. 

He holds out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, silently imploring you to take it. Your eyes lock with his as yours moves on its own accord – almost as if you’d been entranced. 

Your hand feels so small and delicate in his grasp. And for a second, you wonder what it might be like to lace your fingers together. How it would feel to hold onto him so intimately for just a few seconds longer. You sneak a glance up at Ari, only to watch as his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring just slightly. It’s enough to let you know that you’re not the only one affected.

“You think we might be able to try this again?” His deep baritone washes over you like a balm. “You have my word I’ll do a much better job of, uh, keeping myself in check.” 

Yanking your hand away, all you can do is nod. Part of you almost wished the man would go back to acting like an asshole. At least then you would know how to handle him. This so-called charming and apologetic Ari was a different beast entirely.

“I–” You swallow thickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” His easy smile has the nerve to do funny things to the butterflies in your belly. “And while I would hate to do anything that might spoil this good will, I would like to ask you a couple of questions right now.”  

Instantly suspicious, you open your mouth to deliver a curt “no”. However, having already anticipated this, Ari is quick to amend his request by promising not to be too invasive. He also insists that he’ll follow your lead. 

“If at any moment you want to stop, we’ll stop. You have my word on that too, darlin’.” He surveys the room, absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “You good with me ensuring we have a little privacy?” Again you nod, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

Because at this point, it just didn’t make sense to kick the man out. Especially not when he seemed to be taking great pains to be respectful. You could only hope that he’d appreciate your cooperation enough to go bother someone else when you were through. 

Maybe it might be worth leading him back towards someone who’d actually appreciate his attention. Someone like your would-be frenemy, Charline Marshall. 

Seemingly encouraged by your response, the invasive bounty hunter hustles towards the door so that he could flip your sign from open to closed. And, unbeknownst to him, it also gives you a chance to begrudgingly appreciate just how good his ass looks in his Levi’s. 

Alright. So maybe you’d hold off on feeding Ari Levinson to Charline and her disciples – at least for right now.

“You know.” You cough, needing to give yourself a moment to recalibrate before you said or did something dumb. “I actually just remembered that I needed to fix a couple of things around the shop during my lunch break.”

An unruffled Ari simply smiles and winks back at you. “Thought you said you believed in your ability to multitask?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at the smug bastard. Because he was right. You absolutely had said that. And then he’d had the gall to fucking listen. 

“Fine.” Shooting him a glare, you head over to the counter and toe-off your shoes. 

“Appreciate it, darlin’.” 

Just like last time, out comes his pen and tiny notebook. He flips it open to a new page before giving you his full attention. Meanwhile, you’re now hellbent on acting like he doesn’t exist. 

“How long have you owned your shop, Baubles & Quills?” 

If you were to look in his eyes at that moment, you would’ve seen them shining with genuine inquisitiveness. Almost as if he actually wanted to get to know you. 

“A few years.” You reply, bracing your hands on the flat surface of the desk. “I spent a large part of my childhood here, buried amongst books. My uncle left it to me when he passed. But I’m sure you already knew that.” 

Taking a deep breath, you send up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him not to let you fall before hefting yourself onto the counter with all the grace you can muster.  

“Maybe.” Ari concedes while jotting something down on his notepad. “But it’s different coming from – just what the hell are you doin’ woman?!”

“Checking out this light fixture.” You huff as you work to steady yourself.

“Any reason you couldn’t do that from the ground?” The bounty hunter surprises you by sounding more than a little stressed.

Confused by his response, you manage to spare a quick glance in his direction. Although your unlikely companion looks less than happy, you fail to fully grasp the nature of the problem. 

“Because I couldn’t quite tell if this whole panel was out, or just the one little section.” 

“Alright, well…” He drags an agitated hand through his already messy brown locks. “Now that you’ve seen it, how about you come on down from there?”

“Oh my goodness, Levinson.” An exasperated chuckle bubbles its way from your throat. “It’s just the counter. Save the freakout for when you find me on the flippin’ roof or something.” 

“You’re standin’ on the damned thing wearin’ nothing but socks. It’s like you’re askin’ to fall.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“How the hell is my expressin’ concern about your safety bein’ dramatic?” 

“Next question, buddy.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the affronted look on the bounty hunter’s gorgeous face.

Ari forces himself to take a breath before attempting to return back to the task at hand. “I have it here that your Uncle is the late Lenny Barstowe. He was, by all accounts, an upstanding pillar of this community.”

“He was.” You agree, bending down to grab the duster resting near your feet. 

“You say he was your uncle, and yet you two don’t share the same last name.” He frowns when he notices your slight wobble. 

And for the tenth time in almost as many minutes he finds himself wondering why the fuck you didn’t hire someone to take care of shit like this for you? Hell, give him a ladder and a free afternoon and he’d handle things himself.      

“Wow. Nothing gets past you.” You sniff, trying to fight back a sneeze as dust goes flying. “They teach you those observation skills in private detective school?”

“Sure did.” Ari snorts without missing a beat, tucking the pen behind his ear. “First thing on the syllabus, in fact.”    

“Thought so.” 

“So glad we cleared that up.”

You can’t stop the small thrill that courses through you when you notice the newfound tick in his jaw. If you weren’t careful, you could find yourself growing addicted to that little zing in your blood. To that tiny spike in your pulse you felt every time you two sparred.  

“But if we could go back to your uncle, I’m sure losing him had to be hard – what with him being your only family.” He takes a turn fanning himself with his notebook. ”Was your friend, Martin, there for you during that difficult time?” 

That particular question actually makes you pause and reflect. You’d been so lost in grief back then, which is part of the reason it had taken you so long to claw your way out of that dark hole. And, if memory served, you’d done that majority of that clawing on your own.

“I’m sure he was around, Mr. Levinson.” Your answer sounds cagey, even to your own ears. “But I pretty much wore my grief like a sweater back then. And if I’m being honest, those first few months after losing him were nothing but a miserable haze.”    

“I know the feeling.” He murmurs as he scribbles on the page. 

“Look.” You blow out a breath as you attempt to gauge the distance between the desk and the ground. As of this moment, you officially regretted not grabbing your step stool. “I don’t know where Martin is or who he’s running from. All I know is that he was scared, but he refused to tell me anything more, okay?”

“Did he ask you for money?”

“Yes.” 

He’d also called you too. And while you choose to keep that little detail to yourself, you figure there was no harm in telling him about the money. At the time you’d had no idea you were potentially aiding and abetting a criminal. Or maybe you just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“And did you give it to him?” The intense look in his beautiful blue eyes has you suddenly feeling foolish.  

“Yes.” 

It’s that one word, spoken barely above a whisper, that leaves Ari shaking his head. His gaze drops to the ground as he works to rein-in his temper. You have no idea what a struggle it is for him to do so – because he’s not upset with you. 

If anything, you’d just given him one more reason to run that slippery motherfucker into the goddamned ground. 

“How much did he get you for?” Even though Ari has calmed himself considerably, his tone still comes off harsher than he intends. 

“Almost $500.” You tell him, your face hot with embarrassment. “I suppose I should’ve asked more questions. You probably think I’m an idiot for –”

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He swiftly interjects, not wanting you to get upset. “You’re doin’ so great bein’ honest with me right now.” Unsure of what else to do, he tosses his notebook aside in favor of reaching for your hand. “I know this shit ain’t easy.”  

“I think I’m done for now.” You tell him, doing your best to avoid looking at your now joined hands. God, he really needed to stop doing that. “Please.”

“Okay.” He readily agrees as his thumb strokes along the ridge of your knuckles. “Then we’re done.” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Are you gonna let me help you down off the counter before you kick me out?”

“It’s okay. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You mumble as you busy yourself with trying to figure out the easiest way to sit and scootch your way out of your current situation.

The last thing you needed was this man accidentally throwing out his back over some misplaced chivalry. 

To his credit, Ari decides to ignore your feeble protests. “C’mon and let me help you.” He repeats, gesturing for you to step towards the edge of the counter so that he can grab you by the waist. “And then I’ll be on my way.”

“Really, I’m fine.” You attempt to swat at his hands, which doesn’t actually work.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He assures you gently. “Just trust me.” The next thing you know, you’re suddenly being lifted into the air. “I got you.”

“Ack – I’m too heavy!” You squeal, immediately caught off guard by the way your legs briefly dangle in the air. Try as you might, you honestly could not remember the last time a man had picked you up. 

Your heart speeds up as he effortlessly sets you down on your feet, allowing your body to slide down the solid wall of his chest. Instinctively, your hands fly to his biceps in an effort to steady yourself. 

“Thank you.” You’re suddenly having a hard time breathing around this man. “But you really shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve hurt –”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t nothin’ but a feather.” Ari rumbles, his hands still resting firmly on your hips. 

“Somehow I doubt that.” You whisper, knowing that you should demand that he let you go. Except your body is too busy buzzing to actually cooperate. 

“Happy to prove you wrong any time.” While you suspect that he hadn’t really meant to say that, his smile is full of promise. “But right now, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out.” Although it still takes another second for him to release you. 

Not that you’re complaining any. Which deep down you know could spell trouble for you. 

Before he leaves, however, Ari reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to hand you what looks a lot like a business card. “What’s this?” You mentally smack yourself in the forehead the moment the question leaves your mouth. 

“My card.” He responds as he now heads toward the door. “That’s my cell, just in case you need it.”

“Oh.”

“Call any time, day or night.” Ari’s gruff, no-nonsense tone goes straight to your core. “You remember somethin’ about Martin? Call me. You lookin’ for someone to stand guard while you lock up at night? Call me. You need to hear a friendly voice in the dark? Fucking call me.” 

His offer takes you by surprise. So much so, that you’re temporarily rendered speechless as you clutch the stiff piece of paper in your palm. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever take him up on his offer, you could certainly appreciate his generosity. 

“Thank you.” You rasp, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.

“Any time, Duchess.” His head dips politely as he exits through the front door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

And just like that he was gone, which meant you could finally breathe normally again. Strange butterflies once again fill your belly as you take your time examining the card your bounty hunter had left behind. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever call him, you decide it’s worth tucking into a zippered pocket in your purse before getting on with the rest of your day. 

Little did you know that you would come to need that tiny piece of paper sooner rather than later…  

END

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[undreaming-fanfiction]

Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

[cuubism]

as a certified horse obsessed freak i'm obliged to have an equestrian au so here's an equestrian au. make it olympics flavored for relevance. but there will be no sex in hay!! EVER!!!

it is smutty though.

--

Dream Endleas’s reputation for being difficult preceded him. His critical eye, his adherence to perfection, his crisp turnout and refusal to ever appear the slightest bit disheveled even after competing in the summer heat; his family, his money, his luxury-brand sponsorships—Hob had seen enough videos of Dream’s Grand Prix tests to be prepared for all of it. But he wasn’t prepared for the force of seeing it in person.

Dream in person was somehow even more perfect and posh than he appeared on video. Hob hadn’t actually spoken to him yet, had only communicated through his groom, Matthew, while getting the horses settled in—but God, he looked like such a prat. He looked like the type of snotty kid Hob had seen around the yard growing up, the type who thought they could ride because their parents had bought them a fifty-thousand pound pony. The type that persisted into adulthood, rolling up in a Range Rover to get on an already tacked horse, later handing their fancy horse back to the groom before stalking back out of the stable in pristine white breeches, leaving all the care to others.

Hob might have had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about that sort of thing.

It would have been easy to hate Dream, except that, fancy horse or not, he actually could ride, exceedingly well at that, and—and Hob was feeling very betrayed by his dick on this one—he was also blisteringly hot.

Dressage competition wear was, by and large, not one’s first choice of clothes that would be considered “sexy.” The combination of “business formal” and “cavalry officer on parade” wasn’t exactly giving come hither, but Hob took one look at Dream stalking down the center aisle of the barn in his clean white breeches and his high boots and his black coat with its little fucking Union Jack embroidery and he wanted. It was a good thing thoughts were an internal situation because it was embarrassing how quickly he went to I want those skinny little thighs wrapped around my head. Mortifying, really.

He was thinking about it so hard he didn’t immediately realize Dream was coming for him.

“You,” Dream said, stopping before him. “You are the stable manager.”

“That’s me,” Hob agreed. Regretting it more every minute, too. Managing the horses for the Olympic team had sounded like a good gig in theory…

“Why have the horses not been turned out?” Dream demanded.

“Aren’t you competing in—” Hob checked his watch— “an hour? Why are you asking me this now?”

“Because it came to my attention that things were mismanaged,” Dream said, unrepentant, then stood, waiting for his answer.

Hob sighed. “They didn’t provide us any turnout space.”

“They did not provide—” Dream started, then stopped, apparently flummoxed. “That is unacceptable.”

Hob had to grudgingly admit that it was to his credit that he cared. Not everyone did. “Tell me about it. But if you hadn’t noticed, we’re in a several hundred year old stable and they weren’t about to revamp the entire situation for us.”

“As per usual, horse welfare comes last,” Dream said, narrowing his eyes. Jesus Christ, Hob thought, he’s wearing eyeliner. “Be advised that I will be paying close attention going forward—” he looked at Hob’s name badge— “Hob Gadling.”

And with that ominous statement, he turned and stalked off.

“Good luck with your test,” Hob offered, half-heartedly, to Dream’s retreating back. Then, to himself, “Really? That prick’s the one you want?”

He could hardly be angry with Dream for being upset about it, though. Hob certainly had a bone to pick with the organizers about the horses being stalled 24/7. But he doubted that the people who managed The Palace of Versailles gave a fuck what he thought.

It did mean less for Hob to do, though. So once he’d done another round of their team’s wing of the stables he headed out to the arena to watch Dream’s test. There was no way Hob was going to miss watching him ride after a performance like that. If you were going to live up to your reputation of being rude and difficult you had damn well better live up to your reputation for skill as well.

Unfortunately for Hob, Dream did in fact live up to that reputation. He and Jessamy were gorgeous together. She was a smaller and lighter horse than many of the others and seemed to practically float across the ring. Dream made it look so easy when Hob knew damn well it was not. Hob could have watched him for hours, though of course the test was only a few minutes long.

In addition to watching Dream’s test, he was keeping an eye on the horses going in and out of the stable, keeping up to date on any injuries or soreness, though each had its own groom who was responsible for the horse’s immediate care. At the conclusion of Dream’s test, Hob expected him to hand Jessamy off to Matthew, but instead Dream just dropped his stirrups, letting Jessamy steer on a long rein as he wandered off towards the grassy area past the border of the dressage arena.

“Oi!” Hob called, catching up to him. “Where are you going?”

“I am going for a hack,” Dream said, hardly sparing him a passing glance.

Hob followed the direction he was headed. “On the cross-country course?”

“They aren’t using it,” Dream said, uncaring. “We”—presumably he meant himself and the horse—“are sick of being in the stable.”

So saying, he started off again, Jessamy’s ears pricked forward in interest as she picked her way across the grass.

Hob doubted he could stop him. And he had to admit it was probably more entertaining for the horse to go for a walk than to sit in her stall. It seemed a strange thing for Dream to do, though, wander off across the grass, legs swinging free out of the stirrups, instead of maintaining a strict training regimen in the arena.

Dream stopped before he was too far away, turning over his shoulder to call out: “I will be back before the final test is complete. If scheduling concerns you.”

So there was some recognition of the fact that it would be Hob’s neck if the horses weren’t where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving a hand. “Though given your score, I’d imagine you want to be back before they announce the medals.”

He got a half-smile from Dream for this, and then he was wandering off again, sitting comfortably in the saddle with the reins long, Jessamy’s tail swishing away the summer flies.

Hob watched his retreating back for a long moment, then turned back to the ring to keep an eye on the rest of the horses.

As Hob had predicted, Dream did win gold. He showed up just in time for it, finally giving Jessamy back to Matthew to take inside. She’d picked up some grass stains on her white socks, though Dream’s clothes were as pristine as ever. He seemed immune to dishevelment. He accepted his medal with predictable stoicism and bore the obligatory photos with grace and poise but what seemed to Hob like resignation rather than enjoyment of the attention.

Hob didn’t see where he ended up next. He had horses to feed and water and tack to be sure was in order for tomorrow’s events. In fact, he doubted he’d see Dream again at all. It should have been a good thing, for all Dream was a source of frustration for him. Instead, he found himself feeling disappointed. 

Hob was always the last one in the barn at night. Partly out of obsessiveness, partly due to the fact that unlike the riders, his lodgings were actually on the stable grounds. So he did his final round looking in on the horses at around 9 p.m. Not that there was much to do—check water, throw a little hay, make sure none of the horses had managed to keel over in the last two hours since he’d seen them—but it was a soothing ritual, making sure everything was shut up tight before going to bed himself.

Or it would have been soothing, if there wasn’t somebody else there.

The distant sound of a stall door sliding open had Hob immediately on edge. No one else had cause to be here this late, and at such a high profile event, he couldn’t rule out the possibility of ill intentions—or just of a horse getting out past an improperly latched door. He walked quickly towards that wing of the stable, though there had been no more sounds since—

Oh. It was Jessamy’s stall. Hopefully that meant it was Dream, or at least Matthew, because otherwise Dream would be royally fucking pissed.

Hob peered around the door where it was cracked open. And then just stood there, frozen, because it was Dream, crouched down in the shavings cleaning the grass stains from Jessamy’s leg—but not Dream like Hob had ever seen him.

For one, he was wearing shorts. Actual jean shorts that fell to mid-thigh, legs bare down to his paddock boots. Legs which were just as wiry and pale as Hob had imagined under his breeches, but covered in dust, with a streak of mud across one knee and a small bruise on the other thigh of the type you inevitably get when you spend enough time in the barn. Instead of his crisp white shirt and black jacket of earlier, he was wearing a loose black t-shirt spotted with water across the chest—watching the way Jessamy was sloshing about in her water bucket, now full of hydrating additives, Hob could just about guess how that had occurred. Dream even had a piece of hay stuck in his hair.

It was all so shocking Hob didn’t realize Dream was calling his name until he’d said it a second time.

“Hob Gadling. Do you require something, or can I be left in peace for the first time today?”

“You’re wearing shorts,” Hob said, dumbfounded.

Dream raised an eyebrow. “It is very hot out, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I just— I can’t imagine you in shorts.” Or covered in dirt, for that matter. Dream was so pristine, so refined. Except for now, when he was at least fifty percent dust.

“Do you imagine me frequently?” Dream asked, and Hob was grateful that the low lighting disguised the way his cheeks flushed.

“No, I—” he did, though. He’d imagined Dream constantly since first seeing him. Since first learning they’d be crossing paths at the Olympics, really. “Maybe.”

Dream smirked, and stood, stepping out of the stall and perching instead on his tack trunk in the aisle, latching the door behind him. “What about me makes you think I do not own shorts?”

Hob was definitely blushing now. “You just. Always look so put together. And now you’re…” he gestured to the various bits of grime sticking to Dream.

“Of course I am put together at a show, Hob,” Dream said, rolling his eyes. “You could hardly expect me to show up to the Olympic final with mud smeared across my face.”

This was a good point, actually.

“I did not intend to be seen like this at all,” Dream added, giving him a pointed look.

Hob found it charming, though. The fact that Dream’s relative familiarity in being sticky with sweat and hay dust meant he did at least some of his own horse care regularly. The fact he didn’t just show up to get on and off.

“Why are you here so late?” Hob asked, glancing over at Jessamy. “I think she’ll survive with some grass stains until tomorrow. You’re done competing anyway.”

Dream’s brow pinched. “The amount of socializing at this event is stressful. And there is no reprieve in my rooms.”

This made Hob grin. “Not having fun in the Olympic Village?”

Dream wrinkled his nose. “I do not like having a roommate,” he said, and Hob had to laugh at the disgust in his tone. “I considered booking my own hotel room, but was informed this was not demonstrative of team spirit.”

“Oh no, you had to be part of a team at a team event, that’s terrible,” Hob said, still grinning. “Poor Dream.”

Dream’s lips twitched into a half-smile, but it did reach his eyes, Hob saw it. “Terrible,” he agreed. “Hence, I am hiding in the barn.”

“And you wanted to check on your horse,” Hob guessed, softening. He had finally reached the conclusion that he had been wrong about the type of horseman Dream was likely to be. And shouldn’t have assumed it in the first place.

“I worry about them overheating,” Dream said. “This barn has poor airflow.”

“You’ve got better at your place back home?”

“My horses live outside,” Dream said.

Hob had really been wrong about the type of horseman Dream was.

“Now you will tell me they will break themselves in the field,” Dream sighed, apparently well-used to the argument.

“Nope,” said Hob. “So do mine.”

Then, Dream looked at him in surprise and, if Hob wasn’t mistaken, a new hint of grudging respect.

“Mine aren’t as expensive as yours, of course,” Hob teased. He could only guess at the price tag on Dream’s Grand Prix dressage horses.

“They are insured,” Dream said, dismissively. “I care little for how much they cost me. They are happier out of their stalls.”

Hob smiled, and felt the softness of it on his own face. Goddammit. Now he wasn’t only finding Dream hot, which he could maybe have coped with, but going soft on him, too. “I really am sorry about the turnout situation here. There’s just not much we can do about it. I did ask.”

“It’s no matter.” He’d apparently decided to give up on his annoyance with Hob about it. “I may bring her home early. Though I doubt they will let me leave until the end.”

“No one’s ever been less excited to be at the Olympics than you, Dream,” Hob said, laughing, and Dream cracked another smile. He was very pretty when he smiled. He was pretty when he was stern and focused, too. Really, all of him was doing it for Hob.

“I am not very good at dealing with people,” Dream admitted.

Hob felt abruptly bad for him and the reputation he’d developed. Not that Dream hadn’t done anything to justify it. But it couldn’t make it any easier to make friends. He looked so much smaller, too, sitting on the tack trunk in his shorts and t-shirt, covered in dust and hay. Far from the stern and unapproachable Dream Hob had seen earlier.

“Come take a walk with me,” he suggested. “We’ll finish checking in on the horses and then, I don’t know. Get a drink or something.”

It felt too bold a suggestion as soon as Hob suggested it, but Dream sighed and stood, dusting off his shorts. “I suppose I should try not to sequester myself.”

“That’s the enthusiasm I like to see,” Hob said, and got another smile out of Dream. He was quickly becoming addicted to getting those smiles.

Dream followed as Hob checked in on the remaining horses, helping him top off waters and throw hay. By the end Hob was just as covered in dust as Dream, t-shirt drenched in sweat, and had tied up his hair in a bun to get it off the back of his neck, not that it helped much. Dream had been right, the barn was poorly ventilated, and they were both suffering the results of that.

When he turned from tying up his hair, he found Dream watching him, gaze tracking the movement of Hob’s hands, the fall of his hair, then back to his face.

“What?” Hob asked.

“I—” Dream swallowed, throat catching. “Was I. Wrong. To think I caught you looking before?”

Somehow Hob knew exactly what he meant. He probably should have felt embarrassed about it—but it was hard to when Dream was looking at him like that now. Dust sticking to his hair, sweat gleaming along his neck, and he was looking at Hob like he’d suddenly found something very compelling to cut through the weariness of the day.

“No,” Hob said. “Did it bother you?”

Dream shook his head. “No one looks at me like that.”

“Seriously? But you’re gorgeous.”

Dream’s mouth popped open, and even in the semi-dark Hob thought he saw his eyes dilate. “Am I?”

“Maybe they’re all just too intimidated by you to show it,” Hob said, taking a step closer to him.

“And are you?” Dream asked. “Am I so terrifying?”

“I think I can handle it,” Hob said, and closed the remaining distance between them, sparing one moment to think I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this before he took Dream’s face between his hands and kissed him.

Dream whimpered into the kiss, clutching at Hob’s wrists. He opened his mouth to Hob, head tipping back. Dream had such a strong presence that Hob hadn’t realized there was a slight height difference between them, but he took full advantage of it now, pressing him back, letting go of his face to catch him around the waist.

Dream pulled away long enough to take a breath, then dove back immediately into the kiss, sucking on Hob’s lower lip, digging his fingers into Hob’s hair. Hob steered him back, half-blind for kissing, until they stumbled into one of the empty stalls being used to store extra tack, where he pushed Dream down to sit on one of the tack trunks.

Dream’s breath caught, his pulse hammering where Hob set his lips and teeth to it, sucking a mark into his throat on his way to kneeling between Dream’s spread thighs. “I was thinking about you as well,” Dream admitted, once Hob had detached from his neck and dropped fully to kneel on the floor, grinding dirt into his knees. “Seeing you. Carrying bags of feed over your shoulder like they weighed nothing. Mmm. Your shoulders.”

“Oh, yeah?” That was heady to think about, Dream watching him like that. Hob undid the button on his shorts, skimming them and his underwear down and off over his paddock boots. This revealed Dream’s pretty pink cock, already plumping up as he leaned back on his hands on the tack trunk. Hob nosed at the base, taking in the sweat and musk of him, hearing Dream’s breath hitch. “You know what I was thinking about?”

“What?”

“Doing this.” Hob took the head of Dream’s cock in his mouth, pulling a wrenching cry from Dream as he twitched where he sat, thighs trembling. Hob bobbed his head, sucked up the length of him, pulling off with a pop and saying, “This is exactly where I wanted you.”

“Indeed?” The word was shaky. Dream’s fingers twitched on the wood of the trunk.

“Go on,” Hob told him, and Dream’s hands went to his hair, pulling it from its bun, directing Hob back down onto his cock. Hob took him deep, pressing his nose into the hair at the base of Dream’s pelvis. The weight of Dream in his mouth was addicting, and then Dream’s legs shifted and he tucked them up and over Hob’s shoulders, thighs pressing in against his head—yes, perfect.

Dream pulled him close, thrust his hips up into Hob’s mouth, hesitant at first then bolder when Hob hummed in encouragement. Dream’s fingers combed through his hair, not quite pulling but tugging and tangling in little pinpricks of delicious pain, and Hob closed his eyes, surrendering to the experience of satisfying him, so hard in his own jeans but ignoring it for now—it only made everything feel more vivid, anyway.

“Hob,” Dream cried, cock twitching, pre-come spilling over Hob’s tongue. Hob didn't let up, only took him deeper, Dream bumping against the back of his throat as he swallowed.

Dream cried out as he came, hands clenching to the point of pain in Hob’s hair, legs tightening around Hob’s head. Hob nearly came himself at the feeling. Instead he swallowed again, sucking on Dream’s cock as it softened until Dream whimpered from overstimulation, and then Hob carefully let him go, finally able to take a full breath as Dream curled around his head, thighs trembling against Hob’s cheeks.

Hob turned his head to kiss his thigh, grazing his teeth over the small bruise he’d seen earlier, making Dream gasp. He uncurled himself from Hob, letting go of his death grip on Hob’s hair to instead caress his cheeks, run his thumb over Hob’s wet lower lip. Hob looked up, met his gaze, nearly perished at the look of blown-out pleasure there. He could live on that look, he thought, feed himself on it every day.

“Come here,” Dream ordered. Hob was helpless but to obey. He let Dream draw him up, disentangle them so Dream’s legs were around his waist instead of over his shoulders, and Dream plucked open the button on Hob’s jeans, pushed his underwear down far enough to take him out. Dream took him in hand, humming in appreciation.

“Like what you see?” Hob teased, but it came out far breathier than he intended, all of him going taut with Dream's hand on him. Dream only smiled slowly, stroking Hob, slow but firm.

“I do,” he said, and drew Hob in with his other hand wrapped around the back of Hob’s neck, sticking in the new sweat that had beaded along his skin, letting Hob rut into his fist. Hob kissed up the side of his neck, leaving marks, breath catching when Dream hooked a leg around the back of his thigh to pull him even closer.

“So perfect for me,” Dream praised, hand sliding up to curl in his hair while his other kept expertly working Hob’s cock. “Mmm. Later, I want you to fuck me properly. I want that gorgeous cock inside me. I know you will fill me so well. I want to feel you.”

All it really took was Dream’s sweet words to send Hob’s arousal boiling over. He gasped into Dream’s throat as he came, hips stuttering into Dream’s fist. Dream pet his hair as he came down from the high, wiping his hand off on his shirt. Hob kissed the side of his neck once more for good measure, tasting the sweat there, before finally pulling away.

“You really want me to fuck you?” he asked. “You going to—”

Dream laid a finger over his lips. “If you make a joke about me riding you I will walk out of this stable and never return.”

Hob broke down laughing, pressing his forehead against Dream’s shoulder. “You get that one a lot?”

“Constantly.”

“I’ll bet.”

Dream was chuckling, too, chest rumbling against Hob’s body. Hob liked the sound of it.

“Cross my heart, I swear I won’t make any jokes,” Hob promised.

He liked this. Leaning against Dream. Touching him. Sharing a soft moment. He liked it a lot.

Dream tipped his face back up with a fingertip under his chin. “I do still want you to fuck me,” he said, watching Hob with dark eyes. Hob swallowed hard. “Will you take me back to your rooms? For we are certainly not going back to mine.”

“Don’t want to involve your roommate?” Hob teased, and Dream sighed.

“Don’t make fun of my indignities,” he complained, and Hob laughed.

“I’m sorry, darling. You suffer so much. Your life is terribly difficult.”

“And you are making it worse by making me wait,” Dream complained.

Hob certainly didn’t want that. So he stood, tucking himself away again, and rearranged Dream in his shorts, helping him up. He paused then, wondering just how far this burgeoning thing between them went, before deciding, fuck it, and pulled Dream in for a soft kiss, hands light on his lower back. Hob was feeling very fond of him right then. He might as well show it.

Dream hummed into the kiss, sinking into him. When they separated, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“Perhaps you might make me breakfast in the morning, too,” he said, taking Hob’s hand.

“If you’re willing to wake up at six,” Hob said. “Because that’s when the horses get breakfast.”

Dream groaned dramatically, but didn’t let go of Hob’s hand, and as Hob tugged him out past the stall door and towards his lodgings at the far end of the stable, he was smiling, eyes bright. And Hob thought waking up to him before sunrise might be very beautiful indeed.

[klausysworld]

(Y/n is a prostitute in this story, if that’s something you don’t like then don’t read. Some of the things are stereotypical around this line of work, please don’t take this personally or to heart)

Money and Sex

Money and Sex.

The two things Klaus Mikaelson always had and always would have.

Paying for sex wasn't often necessary for someone like Klaus. Most women were throwing themselves at him for free, it didn't matter which century it was or if they were married. They wanted him. And Klaus was always for than happy to indulge. His appetite was relentless.

Sometimes just knowing that he had money was something that enticed them. If his looks alone weren't enough then he wasn't opposed to letting them have a glance at his wallet which would almost always guarantee that he would wake up with at least one woman in his bed the next morning.

However there were the occasions that he would actually pay for a service. Whether it was a just a blow job or a quick fuck or a full night in his play room. It was when he couldn't be particularly bothered to charm a woman into sleeping with him and so would just give some lucky prostitute the night of her life instead.

However this time was a little different.

Y/n was gorgeous. Each strand of her hair was perfect, her delicate neck, her defined collarbones, ample breasts that would fill out the pathetic excuse of a dress she would wear, her tight little waist, well-rounded hips, beautifully thick thighs and desirable long legs that supported her plump ass and met her dainty little feet which were always clad in either a seductive stiletto heels or thigh high heeled boots. Round her shoulders would hang an oversized faux fur jacket to keep at least part of her warm while she sat in her usual booth and played her innocent little act even though everyone knew she was anything but.

Her lips were painted red, eyes often matching in colour along with a thin line of eyeliner to make her iris’ stand out. Everything about her was seductive, sultry. Klaus needed to have her.

Each night he would observe her, she would gain the attention of almost everybody there. Some hated her presence and some absolutely obsessed over her being there. She would always go home with someone different and Klaus would always spot multiple notes being slipped into some part of her outfit as a promise for more.

If money was what she wanted then money was what she would get.

After too many nights of feeling his gaze on her, too many incidents of Y/n catching his stare and smiling sweetly at him only for him to look down at his drink with a smirk and avoid her eye for the next hour, she decided to make her way over to him.

Klaus had just ordered his second drink when a soft hand slide up his arm to his bicep and began to caress soothingly. His eyes glanced down and to the side to see the wine-coloured nails stroking the sleeve of his Egyptian-cotton shirt. He looked back to his glass of whiskey with a knowing smirk.

"May I help you sweetheart?" He questioned as he turned around to face her. Y/n's eyes fixed on him and she smiled innocently at him.

"A drink would be nice" She told him and he hummed, clicking his fingers for the bartenders attention. As soon as the worker saw Y/n they slid her usual drink of choice across to meet Klaus's hand. The hybrid then held it out for her and she took it with a flash of her teeth at him. "Thank you, handsome" She purred and his eyes darkened with desire.

Klaus took a sat in his usual little area and opened his arm in a welcoming gesture. Y/n sat on his thigh in response and smiled as his arm went round her to keep her there. His jaw clenched as he looked her over, the little silky dress she was wearing was basically just lingerie and allowed him a delightful view of her body. He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs against his thigh and he couldn't wait to play with her.

"You've been coming in here a lot lately" she mused as she sipped her drink with one hand and toyed with the buttons on his shirt with the other.

"Mm" He hummed, "Drinks and entertainment, what more could a man want?" he questioned, turning his head to look at her with narrowed eyes.

"Entertainment?" She asked, looking around. It was just a bar, a popular one yes but just a bar. Occasionally there would be an even or something but not often.

Klaus chuckled and slid his fingers under her chin and brought her gaze back to him, "Watching someone as enticing as you saunter around, finding who will offer you the most. I've grown to enjoy your little game"

"It's not a game," she countered "It's a living"

Klaus grinned and let his hand slide up her thigh to the edge of her dress, just before her panties though part of him was curious if she was even wearing any. She swatted his hand away and he chuckled. "Forgive me, princess" He smirked and pulled his wallet out. Y/n narrowed her eyes as he plucked a hundred dollar bill and held it for her to take. Her eyes flicked to his with distrust.

"I hope you don't think that's enough for me to go home with you" She scoffed and he chuckled.

"Sweetheart this is just for me to be allowed to put my hand on your leg. You'll be payed for each little thing I do to you. Believe me, by tomorrow morning you'll have enough money to get out of this...job" he smiled and winked at her.

She hummed unconvincingly and took the money, allowing his hand to feel her thigh and squeeze the flesh as he pleased. She tucked the bill into her little purse that he hadn't noticed and got comfortable on his lap.

Klaus kept her there for hours. Drinks kept coming for them each and Klaus had given her another $100 so that he could kiss her skin, her neck more specifically. She agreed however he wasn't allowed to leave marks which annoyed him but he didn't push it.

Another hundred was given for kisses on the lips, an extra fifty for tongue. Klaus found it amusing how she would tilt her head and raise a brow at him, knowing that he could afford whatever she wanted. Thankfully Klaus was more than willing to tuck the money into her hands as many times as she wanted so long as he god his requests.

He pulled away from her mouth and brushed his lips over her ear. "How much for a little dance, hm princess?" he whispered lowly and she scoffed.

"Here?" She questioned, and he nodded. Y/n looked over his face as she thought about it. This man was loaded, she knew that, he knew that, everyone knew that. She had already made $350 and he hadn't even touched her anywhere, nor had he mentioned bringing her home with him. Some nights she would get that much for actually fucking a guy. But this gave her $100 for a kiss so by that logic... "$500" She answered and his brows rose.

"$300" He offered and she narrowed her eyes.

"$400" She compromised but still saw his gaze unwavering so she slid her hand down his front and let it press against his crotch making him suck in a breath, "Unless of course...you can't afford $400 for a lap dance?" she suggested, giving him a look of faux understanding and he scoffed.

"You want $500? You'll get your $500 once you show me how good you can be. Now dance for me." He demanded with a little smack to her ass making her roll her eyes but comply. She straddled his lap, slowly rolling her hips against him and running her nails up and down his chest through his skirt. Klaus leaned back and slide his hands onto her waist, caressing down to her hips and encouraging her to gyrate against him. Klaus watched her move erotically, his cock pushing against his trousers as she ground down on it. His mouth found hers and his tongue pushed inside to taste her as his hands moved under her sexy little dress to squeeze her ass. His kiss grew hungrier and so did his hands, so did his dick.

Y/n had to pull away with a giggle and grabbed his wrists. "Easy, handsome. I put on shows one person at a time, not for the whole damn bar" she told him and he groaned softly. He quickly pulled out the five $100 bills and slotted them between her tits, his eyes lingering.

"Then It's time to go to my place" he mumbled, lifting her up without waiting for an answer and pulling her legs around his waist. His hand grabbed her ass, holding her dress there so nobody saw the thong that didn't cover a thing.

Y/n smirked and slid off him and onto the feels of her boots. Klaus's hands held onto her hips from behind as he lead her to his car and opened the door for her. She laughed at the gesture and sat down, letting him closer her door and start driving. Klaus sped home, parking quickly outside of his mansion and getting out. He opened the door and pulled her out, tugging her along with him and through his front doors.

"My god" She whistled. "Should've charged you a thousand for that dance huh?" she teased and he chuckled.

"Be good for me tonight and I'll give you much more than just a thousand." He told her, pulling her hands close and kissing them both. She gave him a provocative smile and stepped to stand right up against him.

"Tell me what you like, handsome." she whispered with a knowing smile and he hummed, his hands stroking her cheeks and jaw before his thumb brushed over her bottom lip and pulled it down to make her open her mouth. She licked his thumb with a grin before reaching for his pants and curling her fingers round his belt. "You wanna show me somewhere comfy?" She asked and he nodded silently.

Klaus let her hold onto his belt as he brought her up the stairs to his bedroom. It was huge, basically had its own living room. Leather seats, fireplace, TV, bottles of whiskey or scotch or whatever, the biggest bed Y/n had ever seen, walk in wardrobe, god there was just everything. Y/n's apartment would fit in his room tenfold. Klaus watched her eyes dart around as she took it in.

"It's all yours tonight princess" He murmured seductively as he pulled his belt off, letting the leather slip through her fingers before tossing it away and stripping himself bare. Y/n wetted her lips as she glanced him over, his broad shoulders, smooth hard chest, abs that were visible but not overly prominent and defined apollos belt. Her eyes fixed on his cock, it was thick, long and hard. She hadn't doubted that it would be impressive; a man like him had it all.

Klaus opened his wallet and pulled out a thick wad of hundred dollar bills and set the on his night stand.

"There's $9,150 there. You take that home with you in the morning along with the $850 from earlier and you've pocketed $10,000. That enough for you, sweetheart?" He questioned with a smirk.

Y/n stared at the money. It was way to much not to take but part of her couldn't help but worry. Was he planning to do something horrific and this was to make sure she didn't tell?

"I don't do knives" She whispered, her voice uneasy.

"That's okay, I didn't plan on using one" He answered and she hesitantly nodded.

"I want a safe word" She told him and he tilted his head.

"I don't aim to harm you tonight princess. I'm here because my cock is in desperate need of attention only you can sate." He chuckled, "The money is because I have it to give. You will not come to true harm under my hands however if a safe word makes you feel safe then a safe word you shall have. Should you say the word 'Red' then ill stop, 'Amber and I'll slow it down, good?" He offered and she nodded.

"Okay" she whispered, shaking off the feeling and smiling at him. "Sorry, handsome, didn't mean to be a mood killer. C'mon lets get you in your fancy chair!" she grinned and pulled him over the the leather, throne-like seat the sat opposite the fireplace that wasn't currently lit. Klaus smiled back at her through hooded eyes and sat back in his chair as though he were king.

Y/n slipped down onto her knees with a simper and gazed up at his through her long, painted lashes. Klaus opened his legs a little wider for her to crawl between. Her elbows rest on top his thighs so that her hand may ever so gently stroke his stiffened cock. The hybrid gave no reaction other than an exhale of air through his nose. She eyed him as she lifted the palm of her hand and began to stroke him firmly.

She knew his type. They wanted control of everything and didn't ever want her to know that she was making them lose it for even a second. Which meant that her aim that night was to have this man a panting mess. That was the only way he would be truly satisfied, that's what ensured that she fucked better than any other girl out there. That way why she was in business so often, because nobody did it like her and Klaus knew that.

Her fingers squeezed his shaft tight, watching as his jaw clenched and she could correctly assume that he was biting his tongue as her thumb rolled over his cockhead perfectly to tease each nerve. "Did you like that?" She asked amorously. Klaus's hand slid into her hair and gripped it tight.

"Put those pretty lips to work" He demanded and she obeyed. Her cherry-red lips wrapped around his tip, sucking softly while one hand stroked his length and the other teasingly caressed and fondled his balls. Klaus let his eyes close and head fall back as he felt the wet warmth of her mouth encase his cock and move along his shaft slowly. She didn't need to tease him, a couple good flicks of her wrist and he probably could have cummed right in her face but she decided to make it last because she knew that was exactly what he both wanted and needed.

She moved slow but precisely for a good while before his hand started pushing her head further, encouraging her to start moving faster and taking him deeper. With her profession, even if it had only been a couple years, meant that her gag reflex was basically nonexistent. Her through swallowed him down like it was nothing and she moaned around him like a damn pornstar until he couldn't help but buck his hips and groan.

"Fuck princess" He grunted, both hands forcing her head up and down to meet his fast-thrusting hips. Y/n kept her eyes on his, watching him as his brows pulled together and his mouth began to breathe faster. His eyes swirled into a dark storm and a raspy moan left him before I was roughly pulled off his cock and shoved backwards. Her hand reached back quickly to catch herself from hitting the ground while he groaned and his cock let out thick ropes of cum across his abdomen. Her eyes widened at the pure amount of cum that shot out of him before his body calmed down and he was looking down at her. She smiled back at him with a small smile.

Klaus reached his hand out and she shook it, he stood and guided her up onto her feet before leading her to his bed. Klaus sat down, moving his pillows out the way so he could sit up against the headboard. Y/n followed his lead and straddled his lap, she let his cock press against her cunt as she pulled her thong aside.

"You want me to ride you handsome?" she questioned, tilting her head innocently. Klaus stroked her jaw with a smirk.

"You know that I do princess. Come show me how well your pretty pussy can take me" He purred and she hummed.

"Condom first, handsome" She told him, holding out a little packet for him but Klaus just scoffed and cupped her jaw, looking into her eyes.

"I don't need to wear a condom, I'm clean and infertile" he compelled and she smiled, tossing the packet away and getting back to her job.

Klaus's hands lifted the silky little dress up to her hips to watch as her pussy engulfed his cock. She sunk down onto him and he groaned. If he was honest, he hadn't expected her to be nearly as tight as she was due to her line of work. Y/n slid her hands up to his neck as her. hips slowly began to ride his dick. Klaus inhaled a deep breath or air and squeezed her waist gently between his hands.

"Tell me how fast you like it, handsome" She murmured as he watched her pussy slide along his cock.

"Usually?" He mumbled and she hummed. "Usually I like it fast" He admitted.

"You like it rough, handsome?" She purred, clenching her cunt around his cock to hear him groan.

"Fuck, yes sweetheart!" He moaned and she smiled.

"Do you want to fuck me fast and rough, handsome?" She whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against his cheek. Klaus sucked in a breath and nodded.

"Yes princess, yes I want to fuck you till you scream" He growled, his hips bucking upward to meet her movements. Y/n hummed softly and caressed his neck, her body bouncing on his cock with an increasing pace. Klaus groaned softly and gripped her body tighter, his fingers digging into her sides. Her jaw clenched as she felt the bruises forming but she knew not to push his hands away when he was so into it.

She moaned softly in his ear for him, encouraging his thrusts to pick up. Her mouth left a trail of wet kisses down the side of his neck, sucking the skin into her mouth and nipping gently. Klaus grunted, his grip getting tighter again as she clenched around him over and over.

His eyes closed as he listened to her moans and felt her swollen lips against his skin, her blunt teeth scraping against him. His cock felt as though it was throbbing inside her, he couldn't help but grab her body and bounce her up and down on him as though she were just a little fuck doll. His breathing grew ragged and his mind went cloudy. A long groan vibrated in his chest as her sweet cunt milked his cock of his cum. Y/n's fingers slid into his hair, stroking his head as he came down from his high.

"There you go, handsome" she murmured softly, smiling when his eyes opened and locked back onto hers. He frowned a little bit, he knew that she was a prostitute or however she wished to label herself but he didn't like that she didn't seem an ounce impressed or satisfied. She tilted her head at his frown and her expression faltered. "We can keep going if you need, honey?" She whispered, petting his head and kissing his lips sweetly.

Klaus cleared his throat and lifted her from his lap. He shook his head and pulled a smile to his face. He kissed her deeply, his hands rubbing along her body to turn her on. She took this initiative as a sign that he was ready for more so dropped her hand down between their bodies. Her fingers wrapped around his thick cock, stroking him firmly once again making him moan softly. His hips thrust involuntary against her hand and he pulled away.

Klaus grabbed her wrists, lifting them above her head making her raise a brow and lay back for him to take what he wanted. Klaus narrowed his eyes, seeing it as a challenge. Without warning she was flipped onto her stomach, arms still pinned above her head with his hand applying pressure to keep her down, not that she was struggling.

Y/n arched her back and lifted her ass, pressing herself against Klaus's dick provocatively. His eyes bled gold as he let go of her wrists and grabbed her hips, lifting her ass higher.

"Keep your hands up" He ordered and she grinned.

"Yes, handsome. Anything you say." she murmured, swaying her hips seductively in his hands as she felt his cockhead sliding between her ass cheeks as he groaned softly. His hands creeped under her lacey little dress and cupped her generous breasts that were not supported by any sort of bra. He gave a firm squeeze making her moan lowly before her mouth feel open as his cock pushed into her fast and deep.

"That's right sweetheart, cry for me." He uttered as he started thrusting into her from behind. Her body jolted forward with each force of his thrusts. His body collided with hers time after time, skin slapping harshly and Y/n just knew her skin would be red by the end of the night.

His fingers caressed over her nipples, tugging on them to make them stand out. Y/n let out a moan of genuine pleasure, it was different to her ones from earlier which make Klaus smirk and roll her nipples tightly, twisting them until a broken cry left her and her as smacked back against his hips.

Her hands remained above her head the entire time he took her. Not once did her obedience falter. Her cunt grew tighter as he carried on and he had been angling his hips precisely in an attempt to find just the sport to make her squirm. Y/n knew exactly what he was doing but could feel his cock tremble inside her as it ached to release inside her again.

Y/n curve her back, pushing her body back to meet his fast and powerful movements, his control was slipping and he began to forget what his aim was. All he could feel was her warm, wet, tight pussy stroking his so good. Pulsing and squeezing around his cock until he couldn't breath. Each time his balls slapped against her ass his sensitivity heightened that extra bit more

Soon enough Klaus was a mess, his body collapsing on top of hers as his cock buried into her, his tip snug against her cervix while he pumped her womb full. Y/n slowly brought her arms down from above her head and dragged herself out from under his weight.

Klaus groaned quietly as he came to.

His eyes fluttered back open to the feel of her nails gently scratching the top of his back in a way that soothed something inside him. Part of him hated that those nails were just brushing him rather than being dug into him but the other part loved how soft she was in the moment. He wondered if this was a routine, fuck em hard and then pet them to sleep.

Klaus rolled onto his back and locked his gaze with hers. She smiled back at him and leaned down to kiss his lips. It made him feel as though he had known her forever. His mouth pressed back against his with passion, his hand tugging on her hair until she groaned.

She pulled away slowly and tapped her fingers against his chest. "I just know you have more to show me, handsome" She whispered, her voice alluring. "I bet you have lots of toys you're just waiting to play with" She hummed, circling the tip of her nail around his nipple making him hiss softly. Y/n smiled as his hands went up her thighs and she let them fall open for him.

Klaus groaned softly as her cunt glistened and shone. His tongue wetted his lips and he couldn’t help but pull her close and kiss his lips. Y/n hummed softly as his fingers slid through her folds before he pulled back from the kiss and sucked the taste of her from each of them.

“You ready to play, handsome?” She murmured and he nodded, like a boy under a spell. He shook off the haze and pulled her to him. Klaus glanced to his drawer, it was where he kept things for special occasions. Y/n followed his gaze with a smile and stroked his jaw. “Go on, honey. Show me what you got.” She purred, encouraging him to slide her onto his lap and take her to the edge of his bed. He pulled his drawer open and she peeked inside with an amused smile. She lifted the handcuffs and the spanking paddle, placing them on the bed with a hum “I don’t know…I figured you’d rather use you hands for that kind of thing” she teased and his eyes darkened as he pictured his hand meeting the red-raw flesh of her ass until she cried. Y/n continued to pull out a pair of nipple clamps followed by a ball gag and some anal toys. She turned her head to him with a smile "For men, women or yourself?" She teased and he chuckled as he took the toys away from her hands.

"Depends on the day" He answered and she hummed, stroking his chest and glancing to the drawer which still had items buried but he pushed it closed making her pout but accept his wishes for privacy.

Klaus pulled her into another kiss, distracting her mind as he pushed her back against his bed and slid his hand up between her legs to feel and rub at her cunt. Y/n moaned softly into his mouth as his fingers went at her clit, he was desperate to watch her cum.

However no matter how long he fingered her for, even when he could see that she was genuinely enjoying herself, he couldn't get her over that edge. So he started to use his mouth too.

Y/n assumed he was a guy who got pleasure from the validation of pleasing his partner so she was happy for him to do as he was. Her hands tugged and played with his hair while her hips rocked against her will. Over the past couple years she had managed excellent control of her mind and body but she couldn't help but grind back against his hands and tongue. Klaus was by far the most skilled client she had experienced.

As the night continued, Klaus fell apart time after time again as he fucked as hard as he could and then a slow as he could in an attempt to pull that desired orgasm from Y/n. By the time morning came around they were both still panting as he clung onto her body and rutted his hips against her and rubbed his hands over every inch of skin she owned. Y/n was positively exhausted, her body was overstimulated and oversensitive but she didn't utter a word about it. She made sure to keep her eyes open and continued to utter words of admiration and appreciation to him, knowing now that it would make his finish faster and harder.

When Klaus came inside her for the last time, he locked his eyes on hers. He promised himself that this would not be the last time she would be in his bed. He would have her here as many times as it took for him to learn everything about her body, everything that made her tik and exactly how to get her over the edge.

He offered for her to sleep for the morning in his room as she hadn't been able to through any of the night hours but she shook her head and promised he had done far more than enough. He kissed her goodbye and assured her he would see her again very soon.

And he did.

Klaus would go back to that bar every night to watch her saunter her way through the men there. He would always order a drink for her and offer her a smile and a wink. This continued for a few months before she stopped showing up.

Klaus was immediately alarmed, she wasn't the type to just stop. So he started asking around but nobody knew, most didn't care.

He wanted to continue his search however was called to New Orleans by a witch. Much to his surprise he found his brother sat beside a pregnant prostitute with confusion, fear and distraught written all over her face for she was carrying the very first tribrid baby.

[yeoslattes]

Happy Ending Status: Pending

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 6.7k

Pairings: Underground Artist!Mingi x fem!reader

Summary: Mingi was not what your family and friends wanted for you. Reality was becoming too real and maybe they were right but you struggled to leave him.

Songs to listen to: Tunnel-Song Mingi, Star Shopping-Lil Peep, Romantic Homicide-D4vd

Warnings: TW! Toxic relationship tendencies, toxic Mingi, smut, lots of crying, slight slow burn, weed use, financial issuesMingi is pretty bad to her at the beginning, he's lowkey a bum, Mingi yells at her once, simp!Mingi, one of his friends makes a bad comment abt reader, Wooyoung is an asshole, reader is a good girl, he's possessive of her, soft Dom!Mingi, oral m receiving, big dick Mingi (lets be real), gagging, lots of spit, slight throat fucking, Mingi holds her down a couple of times, choking, unprotected sex asf, creampie, Mingi cries after sex, use of slut like once, praising

A/N: *big sigh* something about the plot was so hard to write for me lol. I had mentioned that I didn't want to make Mingi too toxic but in the editing process it was almost inevitable so I had to do what I had to do to make it work. He's not scary, he's just a big simp in this lmao. I added songs as well, Star Shopping is what inspired me and Tunnel is what I imagine Mingi looking like in this, Romantic Homicide is for the vibes. Also to clear up any confusion, she's in college bc her parents pay for it aside from that she gets no allowance from them, since she wanted to move with Mingi so bad her parents let her fend for herself (stupid girl). I hope you Pookies enjoy, as always thank you for all the love mwah <3

The bass boomed through the entire establishment. The floor shook, soundwaves rolling up your body. A small smile plays at your lips at the sight of your boyfriend performing on stage. Your eyes curiously watched the girls in the front row who were ready to risk it all for Song Mingi.

The song comes to an end and people cheered loudly, you clap for your boyfriend as he comes off stage pressing a kiss against your lips. “I have some business to deal with first baby, I’ll be back soon.” You nod and clutch the jacket draped over your arms, suddenly feeling exposed now that Mingi had left you.

You take a seat, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, soon enough Mingi comes back looking more pissed than ever. His eyebrows are drawn together with a stoic expression replacing his usual smile. Your face falls, “hey what’s going on?” You ask worriedly, placing a hand on his arm. He shakes his head, “he’s not paying me.” He grumbles, you feel your heart sink. “Mingi that’s not okay-“ you begin, but he ignores you, instead walking towards Yunho and Hongjoong who were standing beside the stage.

Your lips subconsciously fall into a pout, trailing after him. You knew how Mingi was when he was upset and the fact that he was with friends didn’t help either; you hated who he became when he was around them. Walking a couple steps behind them and excusing yourself as you walked through the crowd, you watched as Yunho whispered something in Mingi’s ear. Your boyfriend nods and turns to look at you. “I’ll be right back babe.” He says not even giving you time to respond. You stand alone for a second time tonight. You huff plopping down on one of the booth seats.

You wait and wait, it had been almost 25 minutes since Mingi had left. Your eyes skimmed the crowd in search of him with no luck. He’d blown you off, when you figured he really wasn’t coming back you got up and started looking for him. Your heart felt like it was hanging by the finest thread, one minimal tug and it’d be gone. You spent the majority of your night pushing through sweaty bodies looking for your missing boyfriend.

Everyone sported leather, dark eyeliner, piercings, while the darkest color on your outfit was the pleated black skirt and black tights you had worn, your cashmere sweater being no fit to the aesthetic. Your hands were starting to shake, and your breathing became slightly labored as you continued to skim the club for a tall Mingi.

People had started to notice you, giving you weird looks as you kept making rounds around the club. Your mind began to race, the more you looked the more you felt like the crowd was close to swallowing you up. You spot the exit and make a beeline for it, your tears already falling freely down your cheeks. “E-excuse me.” You mumbled pushing through a couple, the girl looked at you, her eyebrow piercing moving up as she cocked her brow up at your state. Stepping out into the fresh air you finally felt like you could breathe.

***

Your white sneakers heavily hit the ground, dirty water soaking the mid rise crew socks you wore from all the puddles you had stepped in but you didn’t care. You continued your journey back to yours and Mingi’s apartment. You quickly went up the stairs to the second floor, ducking your head as you passed your creepy neighbor who’s eyes never left your shivering frame. You unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind you with a loud sigh. The wooden door creaked under your weight as you rested against it. You feel a knot forming in your throat and you can't help the sob that rips through you. Your legs give out and you melt down into a puddle of tears. Your hand clutches your phone tightly, looking at the absurd amount of times you had dialed Mingi, each one going straight to voicemail.

You numbly pick yourself up off the floor and go into the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror you almost feel bad for yourself; but this was the life you had chosen. Your hair is frizzed up and your makeup is basically gone. You begin reflecting on what your  life had become, the voices of your parents and friends echoed through your head, and you were truly starting to believe that you should've listened to them. After standing your ground against them for so long and always defending Mingi, things were not what they seemed anymore, nothing like the delusions you had put in your head. And so now here you were, heart hanging by a thread as you desperately waited for your boyfriend to come home; no clue on his whereabouts or who he was with aside from his friends.

***

You had met Mingi freshman year of university, you were enamoured with who he was, with the way he dressed, all dark and mysterious yet sweet and cunning. Mingi knew right away he wasn’t someone your family particularly wanted for you, not as a friend and much less as a boyfriend. They hated Mingi’s lifestyle and were confused on how you could be so enthralled with someone like him. Someone who barely made it in college, who was obsessed with making it big in the music industry and would rather focus on that than a promising career. However, the way he spoke about his passion for music made you believe in him and for a second you did, until a couple months turned into a year, and a year turned into 2 and now at almost 3 years barely anything had changed. You convinced yourself it was fine, but reality was catching up to you quickly.

Truth was, you and Mingi were broke, you could barely afford rent and food was scarce majority of the time. Frugal wasn’t even the word to describe how tight you two were with money. You hated this life, coming from a well off family, you had never struggled with money this way. You never minded working to earn your money, but even while working it still was not enough. With your last required courses to graduate, you had to cut back on your hours, leaving only Mingi working full time. The little amount of money he made, he’d spend on music equipment and recording studio fees that he clearly couldn't afford. At some point the little amount of money you had saved up, you had to start using to buy groceries and home essentials. By the time you rechecked your savings you had nothing.

***

Your body cried for sleep, the longer you tried to stay awake the more your body fought against you that eventually you fell asleep on the couch. Around 2:30 in the morning, the front door unlocks and in walks Mingi, quietly looking around for you. When he doesn’t hear any noise he pads further into the room. He’s startled when he spots your sleeping form on the couch. Clearly you had been waiting for him, and he felt terribly bad that he had blown you off at some random club that you had never been to. Mingi was good at being impulsive and acting on his emotions rather than thinking logically. Of course he was pissed that the gig host had ripped him off but that didn’t mean had the right to ditch you; and only now that his cloudy head was clearing up did he realize that.

He sighs and leans over the back of the couch, resting a hand on your arm. He shakes you slightly, slowly you rise from your slumber. You squint, waiting for your eyes to adjust and focus on the person in front of you. When you realize it’s Mingi you fly off the couch, backing away from him. “Ba-” He starts, “It’s almost 3am and now you wanna ‘baby’ me?” He straightens up and throws his head back in annoyance, knowing exactly where this was going. “I’m tired, I don't want to do this right now.” He grumbles walking towards the bedroom. 

Sadness fills you at his dismissive behavior; there's no way he doesn’t care, you thought. Your lips contort into a frown, “Mingi…what is wrong with you?” You say quietly, the knot returning to your throat. You trail after him once again like a lost puppy. He shakes his head, “nothing princess.” But you didn’t believe him. He pulls his shirt off and looks at your small frame lingering by the door. He takes in your disheveled appearance and his gaze softens. “I’m sorry baby, I shouldn’t have left you there.” He says, his heart feeling heavy at your sadness. You had nothing to do with how his gigs went, therefore, you should be the last person he should be getting mad at. When you sniffle slightly and look down he walks over to you, his large frame engulfing you completely. You inhale the smell of weed and faded cologne in, feeling yourself get drunk off him; and just like that things were okay again for the time being.

***

Not even a week later you and Mingi were caught in a screaming match. “It’s not my fault these places don't pay me.” He argues.” You stared at him hard, feeling your eyes twitch from pure anger. “Actually it is your fault, cause you keep agreeing like a dumbass not knowing what you’re getting into. And you look even dumber buying more recording equipment that we clearly cannot afford.” This time you argued over the fact that he hadn’t gotten paid yet again, while he kept spending money on useless equipment. “Well it is my money.” Mingi retorts desperately trying to find a way to put this argument to bed. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, you felt completely hopeless. “Well if it's your money then you find a way to pay for this apartment, and do everything yourself because I am leaving.” 

In full panic, anger and everything in between you stormed into your shared room. You pull a pink duffle bag that your parents had gifted you and begin stuffing all the clothes and belongings you could fit. You run back into the kitchen and grab a trash bag to throw makeup, jewelry and shoes; everything else that couldn’t fit into the straining duffle bag.

You aggressively wipe your tears, pausing when you spot Mingi blocking the doorway. “Where are you going?” He asks, his eyes slightly wide, “I don’t want to be here anymore” You mumbled, attempting to zip up the bag that was clearly too over filled. He shakes his head, panic rising within him, he comes close to you and you step back. He shakes his head rapidly, “You’re not leaving me!” He screams, making you flinch. His breathing is heavy, tears pooling in his eyes. “Please baby, I’m sorry. You’re right, okay, you’re right.” He begs, big hands reaching for yours but you pull back. 

“Mingi…stop it, I’m tired of the excuses okay? I‘m tired.” You say quietly. You eyes can’t meet his, scared that you were going to change your mind. “I just don’t see us going anywhere anymore…” His brows furrow at your words, “what are you talking about.” He whimpers,

“Stop it!” You yell, he takes a step back startled at your loudness. “Stop acting like you don’t see how shitty our lives are. I need you to get your shit together please.” You wipe the tears that are still running down your cheeks, “Be realistic for once Mingi.” You grab your duffel to which Mingi grips onto the traps as well, blocking you off from the door. “Let go.” You grit, yanking the bag from his grip. He stumbles back slightly. He watches you leave, eyesight blurry from the salty liquid, “you’ll be b-back.” He chokes up. But he actually wasn’t sure about that anymore.

Mingi fell in love with you from the second he saw you, you were just so…you. It was a feeling he couldn’t describe. He always knew the thing he liked the most about you two as a pair was the fact that you were so opposite. He had tattooed his hands and neck with some of the prettiest tattoos you had ever seen. He always wore rings that decorated his big hands all pretty, and of course the staple that was his black polish.

You on the other hand were so clean for lack of a better word. The colors you wore were always as bright as the sky on a sunny day, in contrast to Mingi’s daily color palette. You were like a breath of fresh air, and he wanted you, he craved you. Eventually he got you, the road was rough with your parent’s disapproval and what not, but you two persevered; he got you to move in with him and his plans on making it big in the music industry were definitely going, except he was getting nowhere; it was like a journey with no end.

Mingi felt that no matter what he tried, however he tried it, there was always something in the way. He was paying for studio sessions, recording song after song to release and perform at gigs, and even though he spent loads of money on those studio fees he hoped for the day that he wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. But the process was easier said than done because he knew how tired you were of him not being able to give it a rest. Aside from all of that and being aware of your feelings he always thought you’d stick around for a bit longer for him to show you he could do it.

He saw the way he had drained the life out of you, your once glowy skin had been replaced by dullness. Your once vibrant eyes had turned sad accompanied by dark circles and bags. He had ruined you.

***

Today marks 1 month since you left. Mingi had been rotting away in his apartment, only leaving the house to work, then coming back, showering, eating whatever he could find and going to bed. He had lost count of how many times he had called and texted you. But it seemed that you had blocked him. He didn’t know what to do with himself, he hadn’t spoken to his friends or gone out in a while. He’d cut himself off completely. “Get your shit together.” Your words echoed, your pretty face stained with tears as you looked up with hurt in your eyes ingrained in his brain. 

Mingi laid on the couch, eyes dazed off into space from the blunt he had smoked. When all of a sudden…“Mingi?” A voice called faintly in his head, “Jesus Mingi.” The voice said again except this time he felt hands shake him. He looked at his friend who removed him from the daydream. 

“What the hell is going on man? I’ve been trying to reach you.” Yunho said desperately, “I thought you were dead.” The panicked friend said, looking around with wide eyes at the mess in the apartment. “She- she left.” Mingi mumbles, sticking his face into his hands. Yunho’s face softens, “oh-.” Had he known, he would have approached him in a more gentle manner. 

“I’m sorry Mingi.” It’s the only thing that comes to mind. Awkward silence fills the air, Yunho having no idea what else to say. “How’s it going?” Mingi suddenly asks. Yunho shrugs, “some group that played frequently at Cyberpunk Club got a record deal a couple weeks back. You’ve missed a lot man.” At Yunho’s words, Mingi’s heart drops, of course, he thought. It would never be him, and now that you were gone it didn’t matter to him anymore; he’d given up. 

Mingi sniffles slightly, standing up and adjusting his dark jeans, “I have work in an hour so imma head out now.” He didn’t mean to be dismissive but he couldn’t bear thinking about his losses right now. The dark haired man stands up, a perplexed look on his face. “Oh right, well there’s a party tonight let me know if you’ll be there. It could be good, you know, to get out of the house for a while.” Yunho wears a tight lipped smile searching Mingi’s face for some type of life or excitement but he gets nothing. “Yeah I’ll let you know.” Yunho waves goodbye and closes the door quietly behind him leaving Mingi with his thoughts again. He grabs his phone and dials you again, your call has been forwarded to automated vo- he hangs up, annoyance rising up within him. It was pointless now, you weren’t going to speak to him ever again, he accepted defeat and grabbed the small backpack he always carried to work and headed over.

The strip mall was busy, no surprise as it was only Saturday. The customers came in periodic waves, right now Mingi sat in boredom as a single customer sat in the shop sipping on her smoothie. Mingi rests his chin in the palm of his hand, scrolling through your instagram. You may have blocked his number but you had forgotten him on social media. In that moment he’s about to message you when suddenly a loud cackle catches his attention. He looks up expecting to see a random person walking by, but his heart drops when he spots you. As always you were dressed in light colors, you looked good, you looked better. His heart sinks lower, bile rising up his throat the longer you lingered outside with your group of friends. 

Your glow had returned, you looked so alive and happy; he was selfish so in a way he hated that. This was his chance to speak to you, since you had been neglecting him for so long now, not even bothering to come by to pick up some of the stuff you had left behind. He hops off the stool, smoothening down the apron he wore. He steps outside, the door opening catching your attention, your face falls at the slightly disheveled state of your once lover. 

Your friends all fall silent, eyes drifting between Mingi and you. “Um, I’ll catch up to you guys, give me a sec.” You say, the closest girl standing to you, places her hand on your forearm. “Hey ar-” she starts but you wave her off, “it’s okay, I’ll catch up.” You say plastering a smile. You watch as your friends walk away, when there’s decent distance between you and them you turn to Mingi. 

“Mingi-.” You looked up at him with big eyes, a wave of sadness overcoming you. “Hey, glad to know you’re doing okay. Also didn’t know you had guards now.” He says. He doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding aggressive but it does. Surprise flashes in your face momentarily at his harsh tone, but could you blame him?  

Deciding you didn’t want to deal with this you turn around to walk away but he stops you, wrapping his hand around your bicep. “Wait, I’m sorry. I’ve been on edge.” He apologizes, you nod silently, waiting for him to continue.

“I just want to talk about…us.” Mingi pleads with big eyes, you pause for a moment. Your eyes linger on the clear lid of your coffee cup, when you don’t say anything Mingi proceeds. “I just wish you’d given me a chance to talk it out with you, but you just upped and left.” He sounds slightly irritated, and that’s when you crack, “no disrespect Mingi, but that’s very audacious of you. Every single argument or discussion we've had about this you have told me the same thing yet you don’t bother to change it. My patience ran thin.” 

Mingi tongues his cheek, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking out into the parking lot; deep down he knew you were right. He stays silent for a moment, your words hanging in the air, “I just want you back, we can work on it together.” You shake your head, when he sees you take a step back his hands reach out for you again, hovering above your shoulders, never quite making contact, “don’t leave please.” He begged, people walking by turned to look at the exchange. “Mingi.” You whisper yell looking around slightly embarrassed at the unnecessary attention. “Can we not do this?”

“Come over so we can talk please. At least give me that and I won’t bother you again.” He promises, but you and him both knew it was a lie. “No matter how much I want to get back with you, I won’t until you get your shit together.” You remind him, “and about me coming over…I don’t know.” Mingi frowns at your words, “do you have someone else already is that it?” You’re shocked at the way he jumps to conclusions. “Mingi that is not it, it’s just…kind of weird if we are trying to get over each other.” He rolls his eyes, “speak for yourself, but I’m not trying to get over you. I won’t stop until I get you alone at least one more time. There’s so much we need to talk about.” You wanted to stand on business but for some reason he always had you giving in. You toss your head back, a slight groan ripping from your throat. You nod your head ‘yes’, swallowing hard and meeting his eyes, “okay.” Your voice is airy from slight nerves.

He watches your back as you walk away from him once more; except this time under different circumstances. When he steps back into the smoothie shop, his face drops at the scowl his manager gives him and the long line of customers waiting for their order to be taken. “Glad to know you resolve your relationship problems while on the clock.” The stubby man says to him.

After his shift Mingi flops on his bed, he closes his eyes, the clear picture of your face behind his eyelids, and he smiles sheepishly. You two had left it that you’d be the one letting him know when you were free given your tight schedule. Mixed in with his happiness is a tinge of anger and fear. Anger because suddenly you didn’t have time for him and fear because he didn’t want you seeing anyone else, you could’ve been lying about that for all he knew. He whips his phone out when it vibrates, hoping it’d be you but it’s Yunho telling him to come to the party. He dials your number for a second time that day and when it goes straight to voicemail the slight happiness he felt fades away. Why hadn’t you unblocked him? He wonders. His mind races, desperately looking for reasons to feel better but when nothing comes to mind he gets up abruptly and changes out of his work clothes and into a casual outfit.

***

Now here was Mingi at a random house party, a girl on one side of him as he conversed with Wooyoung Yunho, and Hongjoong. “I heard your ex girl moved into a nice ass apartment in the city.” Wooyoung says, peeling a pistachio and tossing it in his mouth. He looks at Mingi waiting for him to say something but he keeps his reaction bottled in, she didn’t mention that, he thinks. Yunho slaps Wooyoung’s arm, bringing a hand under his chin and waving it, signaling Wooyoung to cut it out. “Sensitive topic I see,” Yunho rolls his eyes as the shorter man keeps nagging on. “Nah it doesn’t matter.” Mingi suddenly says, one of his hands traveling further down to rest on the random girl's waist. Mingi felt disappointed in himself, angry that the girl next to him wasn’t you. But since you had yet to unblock him, he figured you wouldn’t anyway and said a big fuck it to the universe and got himself a temporary distraction.

Wooyoung smirks, “yeah it’s probably daddy’s money.” He says, Mingi chuckles, sipping on his beer, “definitely daddy’s money.” Mingi disses; Yunho looks at him with a confused expression, this was the same man that was crying over you a couple hours ago. 

“Crazy you were hitting that Mingi, should’ve kept her around if she has big bucks like that.” At Wooyoung’s words, Mingi’s face drops, “you better fucking watch it.” He points a finger at the dark haired man. “Who gives a shit man you’re not with her anymore.” He presses on, Mingi stands up and leaves. Yunho shakes his head at Wooyoung. “Shut the fuck up rat, you always ruin everything.” He spits, Wooyoung chuckles, sinking into the worn down couch sipping on his beer, clearly satisfied at the reaction. 

Mingi walks home not taking a second longer to process what was said at the party. He felt icky at the fact that he had even gone. He hated the way they spoke about you, if only they knew how he truly felt for you maybe they wouldn’t have said that. To him you were more than a gorgeous face, more than sex more than anything physical; you were the love of his life.

***

A couple of days after the encounter with Mingi at the mall, you sat on your couch, phone in hand, contemplating whether you wanted to call him or not. You knew how Mingi was, it was clear he was desperate and since you had taken a while to reach out to him the poor guy was losing it. In all honesty you were afraid that talking to him again would have you going back and history would repeat itself. After breaking up with him the first couple of weeks sucked. You stayed in bed all day, dazed off in class and took multiple breaks during your lectures to cry in the bathroom. You missed him so much, and a month later you still did, but you were better; like a heavy load was lifted off your shoulders. You hated that this was the reality you had to face, no matter how much you craved him and wanted him back, it was not ideal.

You sighed, placing your head in your hands, “I just have to do it.” You whispered, hyping yourself up. Here’s my address, just let the front desk person you’re here to see me, they’ll let you through. See you at 5. You pressed send, hands shaking slightly. You felt your lunch coming back up, a pit forming within you. You took a shower, dressed in something cute and casual, why were you getting ready? You had no idea, actually you did, you just liked lying to yourself.

“Good afternoon miss, Song Mingi is here to see you.” The front desk person said into the phone, “that’s okay let him through.” You reply, hanging up and wiping your clammy hands on your pants.

Pounding on your door makes you jump slightly. When you pull the door open Mingi stands there. “Oh hey.” You greet in a breathy tone trying your best to be casual, you pull the door open wider. He steps through, immediately looking around at your apartment that was nowhere near close to what your shared space looked like. “Nice place.” He says admiring the art decorating the walls, and gawking at the view into the city. 

While he was busy with that you took a second to drink him. As always he was dressed in dark colors, you could tell he had messily applied some eyeliner and shadow on his eyes, adding to the grunge look he sported. He looked extremely good, and you wanted to slap yourself. “Thank you, my parents helped me out.” You locked the door and followed him further into the living room area. “Okay Mingi, I don’t mean to sound hasty but why are you truly here?” You looked at him curiously, interested in what he had to say and praying it wasn’t the same bull crap he’d said many times before. “I want you back.” He said boldly, “Min-.” He suddenly stands up, looming over your sitting form, your eyes go wide with surprise, “no! You don’t understand how much I need you in my life. I’ve been fucking miserable since you left. You got me reflecting on my entire fucking existence. Trying to figure out what I can do to fix this. I’m in love with you, you know that already, but I’m convinced you’re the love of my life and I'd be willing to give up my music if that means I get to have you back.” You sat there speechless, your legs and arms completely numb feeling like you weren't allowed to move. The man who always felt sheepish speaking his emotions to you was suddenly boasting in your living room about how you were the love of his life and you didn’t know what to do. He stares at you with puppy eyes, waiting for you to say something, his face falling at your extended silence. You stand up to face him, your soft hands coming up to his flushed cheeks. You watch him melt into your touch, “I know that right now I’m not really worth it. But please let me show you.” He opens his eyes back up, his big brown orbs boring into yours.

Your teeth sink into your pink lips and you nod up at him. You push on your tippy toes and he leans down to meet your lips; you had folded. Large hands come to grip your biceps to pull you slightly back. You fall back flat on your feet looking up at him with that stare that always drove him insane, the very one he fell in love with way back when. He pulls you back in, pressing his lips against yours again, the kiss grows hungrier as the seconds tick by. 

He’s tugging on your sweatpants that were a size too big, easily sliding them off you. They pool at your feet, his hands come and grip on the flesh of your ass, his cold rings leaving a slight indentation on the supple skin. You groan into his mouth, enjoying the feeling of him all over you. “Mingi.” You whimper, pulling away from him to look into his dark eyes, “did you miss me princess?” He coos lowly, you pout and nod all morals gone out the door; you just wanted him. 

You didn’t care about your decision on the status of your relationship or if this would be the last time you saw him like this, that could all wait; what mattered was right now. He pulls you along with him, he freely navigates your apartment, finding your bedroom with no problem. He kisses you again, cornering you into the bed, his large hands cup your face pulling you as close as he could. You grip his wrists pulling them away from your face and pushing him slightly back to take off the bleach designed hoodie he wore. His necklaces fall back against his smooth chest as he pulls the thick hoodie off. He tosses the item somewhere in the carpet of the room before eagerly pulling your tank top off. You sink to your knees, your heart pounding in your chest. 

He looks down at you, the liner and shadow somehow making him ten times more attractive. Your thighs press together, your fragile fingers working over time to get the belt off, the buckle is so thick you struggle to undo it. Finally unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down his cock bounces fully erect from the makeout. His hand slides up and down the expanse of his thick cock, “open.” He murmurs, guiding it between your parted lips.

The sheer size stretches your mouth as far as it can go, you fully struggle to take him in. The longer your mouth is open, the more spit pools. You wrap your lips around the tip and suck lightly, coating him in your slobber. Slowly you take him further until he hits the back of your throat, you gag slightly and he groans. His fingers brush your hair back, watching as you struggle to take him all the way back, “good girl baby. Just a little bit more for me.” He says gently placing a hand on the crown of your head to push further into your mouth. You gag again, tears stinging your eyes and spit running down your chin and neck, soaking the edge of the bra you wore. He bucks slightly when you flatten your tongue to run deliciously on the underside of him. 

The more your tongue runs on him the more spit coats him, he lets out a choked breath at the sudden change, speeding up his hips slightly until your hands delicately press against his thighs to push back. A thick string of saliva connects from your lips to his tip, finally breaking off when you pull further away. You suck in a breath, trying to calm down the nausea roaming in your stomach from your gag reflex. “You okay?” Mingi hums cupping your wet chin to look up at him. You nod and he smiles, you take him back in your mouth, your small hand working on what you couldnt fit. You take him down your throat. His breathing picks up once again, eyes rolling to the back of his head, when you try to pull back he holds you still. The thick head of his cock lodged in your throat. Finally he lets you pull away, leaving you practically wheezing for air. He helps you up and you rest your back on the bed. Mingi hovers above you, his eyes taking you in as if he hadn’t seen this view a hundred times before, but he always made sure to appreciate it. Mingi tugs your bra down the undergarment now resting around your waist, he plays with the hard buds but you needed him now, so you pull him onto you. Ignoring you were still in your underwear you move it to the side desperately, as if you didn’t have all the time in the world. You take him in your hand guiding him into your wet hole. 

He looks down looking where you two would be connecting. Pushing in, you grimace at the slight burn from not having him in you for a long time. You squirm the more he goes in. He holds you down, fully diving into you, “shhh it’s okay baby, you’re taking me so well. My good girl.” 

When he hits your hilt you groan, “Mingi please.” He looks at your already fucked out face. He sets a brutal pace, your eyes roll when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. You moan loudly, panting from the lewd activity. Your mouth drops open, and your back arches, his grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you to meet his hips. Your eyes roll back, nails desperately digging into his strong forearms. One of his hands drops from your waist, his tattooed fingers coming up to your mouth. They feel heavy on your wet tongue, he speeds up dragging his fingers out and running his hand down your chin to let it rest on your throat. Your body jolts with every single thrust, inching slightly up the bed every time his hips meet yours.

Mingi’s mind's going a million miles per hour, but at the same time he can't focus on anything else but you under him. He suddenly feels a wave of anger wash over him. His hand tightening on your throat causing your breath to hitch. You felt so high and far away, his dominance causing another rush of slickness to come out of you. “Listen to yourself. So fucking wet.” He groans, pistoning his hips into you. He was angry, angry at mostly himself, but also angry at the thought of you leaving him and finding someone else. “You’re not made for anyone else but me.” He pants, he was selfish with you, you were his everything, and he wanted to make sure you knew; even if this was the last time he’d get to have you like this. “Mi-Mingi, fuck.” You gasp, he suddenly pulls out and urgently flips you on your belly. He hikes your hips up, pulling the ruined cotton panties down and pressing on your back to deepen the arch. He enters you again, sliding in easily. At this point you felt incoherent, all you felt was him. His cock head hits the spongy spot deep within you, it leaves you trembling and seeing stars. 

You whimper loudly into the plush sheets beneath you, trying to clutch onto something for dear life. “Good fucking girl baby. Take it, y-you’re doing such a good job.” You gasp at his lewd words. You felt so full, like you could burst at any moment, “fucking play with yourself slut. Make yourself cum all over my dick.” At his words  your shaky hand reaches between your legs, pressing your clit the way you liked. You suddenly feel so aware of the sensations coursing through your body, from the feeling of Mingi’s heavy hands and rings on your warm skin to the delicious stretch of his cock, you were close to seeing god. 

“You’re about to cum huh baby?” He asks with a mocking tone, “yes Mingi yes, I’m- cum, I’m gon-.” Your words die in your mouth as he clutches onto your hips driving himself into you, your hands reach back to rest on his pubic area trying to get him to slow down, instead he grabs your wrists and pulls you slightly off the bed. He pistons his hips hard, hitting your spot repeatedly, before suddenly slowing down and focusing on deepening himself, the pressure of his cock nestled against your cervix is enough to send you over. Your vision goes white and your ears begin to ring. “Fuck- fuck.” Mingi moans, he cums, unloading himself deep within your velvety walls. He holds your shaking frame, keeping himself warm in you.

When you open your eyes, your vision is slightly hazy, you squint to focus on your surroundings. You turn your head to look at the man who was still deep in you. His gaze is on the ceiling, still recovering from his orgasm. His breathing becomes labored, he sucks in small breaths looking back down at you, you notice the tears pooling in his eyes. Your gaze softens, “Mingi oh my god.” You say softly, your arms come under you to push yourself up. His flaccid cock slips out of you. You cup his face, turning him to look at you. “Hey why are you crying?” You ask even though you had an idea as to why. He sniffles, looking down at the floor, his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you into him. 

“Mingi?” You insist, you needed him to say something, anything. “I just don’t know if this is the last time I'll see you. Have you like this, and be this close to you. I don’t think you understand how badly I don’t want to lose you.” He cries into your moistened skin and suddenly you don’t know what to say or do. “I love you Mingi.” It’s the first thing that slips out, he looks up all doe eyed. “Come here,” you say, flipping the duvet to slip under it. He follows suit, you ignore the wetness that has now smeared all over your inner thighs. Your head comes to rest on his chest, fingers playing with the stacked chains around his neck. “I love you baby, but please say something.” He whispers, sniffling slightly. “Hey relax,” you whisper, propping yourself up to look at him. Your hands run through his dark hair, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Now here you were laying in bed once again with the person that had once ruined you emotionally, yet you couldn’t let him go. You didn’t know what was going to happen, but that was tomorrow's problem.

Taglist: @byuntrash101

[starrypen]

⋇⊶⊰ (FINALLY) GIVING JUNGWON HEAD ⊱⊷⋇

pairing: dom!jungwon x gn!reader

genre: smut

summary: jungwon was a great project partner. not only did you learn lots about the module, but also how to give head!

warnings: implied virgin reader, pet names, face fucking, giving head, dom jungwon, implied sub reader, swearing. 1.4k words.

a/n: self indulgent. i want jungwon so bad.

for what could be one last time, you took in the scenery of your classmate’s room. the walls were painted ivory, the desk was a metallic navy, his bedsheets a similar shade of blue. although you hated this module, it turned out to be your favourite, but maybe that’s just because you were finally able to get some one-on-one time with jungwon. you’d been partnered up together for this project, and you’d enjoyed every second of it. you’d actually become quite close, flirty even. he’d often ask for a message, tell you how good your hands felt on him, or ask if you wanted one in return. he’d sometimes seem bummed when you said you going on dates, or hanging around with guys, but you didn’t want to delude yourself, maybe he just wanted to get the project done sooner.

tonight, you’d finally finished the poster for the presentation. it felt like an end, and you didn’t really like that. just as you were contemplating asking him out on a date, jungwon popped a rather intrusive question.

“is giving head fun?” jungwon asked, folding the peel of his banana in on itself while finishing the last bite. he aimed for the trash can in his room and succeeded, as per usual.

this was his usual style of conversation, he definitely meant it in a playful way, but you felt obligated to answer it truthfully. “uh i mean,” you shifted awkwardly and gulped as you watched his throw, “i cannot confirm or deny.”

“i take that as a no then,” he picked up the scissors and stretched up to his desk with them, placing them down firmly as his eyes scanned the poster.

your eyes do the same, anything to avoid looking at him, “well i wouldn’t know, that’s why i can’t say.”

he turns to you, puzzled, “huh?” his brows furrowed more as he notices you burning up, “i thought you’d slept with loads of guys?”

“yeah, no, i haven’t, i just said that to be you know,” you cringed at your previous interactions with the boy whose room you were currently in, “cool…” you gulped again, biting the bullet as words escaped before you could stop them, “but i kinda want to know, i just haven’t found someone who would be worthy of such an honour yet.” you owned it, a smirk on your face, which jungwon could clearly tell was feigned confidence.

his hand came to rest on yours, ceasing it’s trembling which gave you away. “do you really wanna try?”

you nodded.

“what about with me?” he waited until you nodded again. “would that be okay?”

“are you sure?”

to your surprise, jungwon laughed, “y/n, i’ve been waiting for this day since the first day of college, i’m very much okay with this.”

you joined in, awkwardly, “me too, to be honest.” his hand disappeared from yours as you finally got more comfortable in your laughter, instead tussling with his jeans’ zipper, standing up as he did so. you joined him, standing clumsily, watching him.

“sit down, y/n,” his eyes darted to the bed as he took one leg from his jeans, the other following shortly.

you sat, his boxers in your eyeline. you couldn’t help but look, his bulge right in front of you. you held your breath as your teeth tore your lips and the inside of your cheeks apart.

“hey, y/n, don’t be nervous, okay? we can stop at any time, you got that?” you felt his hand on your head, stroking it gently, calming you slowly but surely. “look at me, baby,” he spoke softly, your eyes drifted up to his.

after a short while of eye contact, your eyes naturally fell once again to his boxers, “do you wanna touch it?” he asked.

you nodded, his hand still on your head but not guiding your response at all. your hand timidly reached out, cupping the general area a little gauchely.

“how about you rub your hand over it? up and down,” you tried to imitate his suggestion with your hand, and with a little help from his own, you managed to get a good feel of his hardening cock. “good, doesn’t it feel good to know that you did this?”

you giggled shyly, but almost a little smugly, under your breath, “it does.”

“then how about i let you see, how does that sound, hm?” by this point, you were no longer palming his cock, instead, your hand running over his own as he played with his own dick inside his boxers.

“good,” you agreed, not really sure of what to say.

he revealed his dick, pulling his boxers to just below it and then finally pulling them completely off as he watched you admire it.

you licked your lips as if you’d already been conditioned to do so. “it’s so,” your hand went to it once again, employing the same motion, again a little awkwardly, before wrapping your hand around it more comfortably, “thick.”

“is it?” he asks in pleasant surprise, “well it’s all yours, baby.”

you pump it a couple more times, getting used to the feeling, before asking, “can i try sucking it?”

“you’re so eager,” he chuckles, “of course you can,” the hand on the back of your head starts to guide you towards his semi hardened cock as you get closer to his body. you’re not sure if the heat is coming from him or your face alone at this point, but you’re almost basking in it as if its warm caribbean sun.

“open your mouth, i’ll just put the tip in.” you did as he said and he kept to his promise, the head of his cock resting on your tongue. “okay, now close your mouth,” your lips wrapped around it. you looked up to him for reassurance, he breathed heavily in response. you think that meant you were doing a good job. “you can move a bit, if you want,” he spoke through gritted teeth, but it only turned you on more. you moved your head lightly, taking as much as you thought you could before coming back up for air. “spit on it, y/n, get it all wet, you’ll be able to take more.”

“fuck, jungwon, it’s so big,” you repositioned it back in your mouth, drooling on it, leaving your hand on his shaft for support. encouraged by a groan from the boy, you carried on sucking. his free hand took your own from his cock and held it by his side, interlocking your fingers together.

“this feels so good, y/n,” getting carried away, he thrusts gently. you’re taken aback, he notices your pace slows almost to a stop. “oh, i’m so sorry, was that too much? i didn’t even think, ugh,”

you begin sucking again, you can’t even respond to his apology, you just want his cum. unable to hold back, he thrusted again, only this time, you leaned into it. his grip on your hair got tighter and his thrusts got harder, your lips became less pursed and your throat started to make gagging sounds. jungwon was fucking your face. just like you’d wanted.

you placed your free hand on his thigh, slowing him down as your throat felt more and more used. your lips tightened around him again and your head bobbed deeply, adding a little bit of a swirling motion. under your touch, you felt his leg begin to shake.

“fuck, y/n, im cumming,” he announced, letting go of your hand in favour of pulling his dick from your mouth and covering your upper lip and nose in cum. he seemed a little dissatisfied. his dick dragged the cum down and across your lips, parting them slightly as your tongue grazed his tip again. “you’re like, incredible at giving head, y/n,” he admitted, panting as he watched over you, a slight hunch to his posture.

“i never doubted it,” you chuckled, taking a tissue from his bedside table and wiping your face. “but i should probably clean this off before your flatmates realise we haven’t been studying all this time.”

he extended a hand to help you off his bed, laughing with you, “don’t worry, they’ve been wanting this to happen almost as much as i have.”

[sukiipjs]

✿ BITE ME

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ matt sturniolo x fem reader

↳ words - 2485

↳ summary - you and matt have hated each other for so long, until you see him at a party and suddenly you two don’t hate each other.

↳ contains - smut, sex, drinking, degrading, oral, orgasm, hair pulling, swearing, biting, praise, cream pie, breeding kink, cum eating, idk what to put 😭

↳ song - meddle about by chase atlantic

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

im in the campus gym watching the team play basketball, something i enjoy and it gives me time to finish up my work for classes. unfortunately, matt’s in the team, i ignore him the best i can. for as long as i can remember me and matt just have it out for eachother but honestly watching him all sweaty in that jersey, flexing his muscle… hot.

my heads down trying to focus on my work until a thud hits my shoulder, i shoot my head up and see matt in front of me. “are you going to just sit there all stupid or give me back the ball?” he snaps as he waits for me to respond, “shut up” i scoff back at him as i pick up the ball and throw it back to him.

“hey i’m not the one acting all dumb, flaunting here looking for attention” his brows narrow as he quickly throws the ball back to his teammates. “god. fuck you matt. fuck you.” i mumble under my breath as i start getting my things, matt walking back to the court as i storm out of the gym.

as much as i think he’s hot, he’s still an asshole. the littlest things he does and i start boiling over.

i get to my dorm room and drop my work on the floor as i flop onto my bed and groan into my pillow. i lift up my head as i check the time on my phone, it’s four. my best friend, nick (also matt’s brother) is taking me to a halloween party later, he says to need to ‘get back out there’ he says i’m lonely, i think i’m just fine.

i take a quick nap, finish my work, make a snack and finally start getting ready for the party. i pick out one of my favorite baby tees, black with white letters that spell out ‘bite me’, and a cute black denim mini skirt that barley hides my ass while the shirt hugs my figure too. i sit down at my desk to do my makeup, some mascara, eyeliner, highlights, and my favorite lipgloss.

i get a buzz on my phone from nick, he’s at the party, asking if i’m ready. i text back that i’ll be there soon. i quickly mess with my hair but figure it’s fine down, i grab some random cat ears and do whiskers with my eyeliner as a ‘costume’. i grab my bag and head out the door.

i get to the party and walk in, i see nick across the room and a smile floods my face, i run up to him, meeting him in a hug. “y/n!! oh my god finally.” he eyes he up and down, “wow, good costume,” i roll my eyes and laugh as i see his, creamish sweater with blood stains, “whatever, who are you?”

“stu, ghost face, obviously,” he smiles as he spins around, showing off his outfit. as we go to the kitchen, getting drinks as he complains about having to wait here without me, all these bitchy college kids.

we drink and laugh as we dance, taking up the whole floor. after a while i tell him i’m going to get another drink, even though it feels like i’ve already had fifty. i make my way to the kitchen and as i’m about to fill up my cup i feel someone behind me, matt, his hands grab onto the table, pinning me between him and the table. i turn around and roll my eyes as i realize it’s him.

“fuck are you doing?” he stares down at me, eyeing down my whole body. i eye him too, still hot, and i see he has in those fake vampire teeth. god would i love to feel his teeth sink into me. “nothing… i’ve been looking at you, that outfit,” he whispers as he moves his lips to my ear “dressed like such a slut.” my eyes widen, hooooly shit, maybe i’m drunk maybe he’s just extra hot right now, but damn.

“you drunk?” i giggle trying to push down my thoughts of him.. oh the things he could do to me, but no, he’s an asshole.

he laughs, his eyes never breaking eye contact, his hands travel to my waist pushing me more into the table behind me. one of his hands leave my waist and moves to tug on my shirt, “bite me? oh i bet i could,” he smirks as he bites down a little to show off the fake vampire teeth.

he pushes his hips into me, his bulge hitting me, “cmon baby, you know you want this.. i’ve seen that way you look at me and shit i cant say i haven’t thought of this.. i’ve dreamed of it…” one of his hands move to tuck some of my hair behind my ear, my lips part, he’s never been like this and god i’m dying for it. i stay still and quiet looking up at him, just shocked. he’s thought of this? baby? oh my god.

“say it, you want this” he whispers so quiet i can barley hear from all the noise in the background. i stay quiet again, my mind is fucking blown. “don’t be shy now.. look at that outfit, youre not shy…” i open my mouth slightly, about to speak but instead i just nod, his smirk grows wide as he takes my hand, leading me to the bathroom, locking the door behind us then setting me on the counter of the sink, his hands resting on my waist.

“matt-“ im finally about to try and speak but he cuts me off, “shhh baby, you’ve been teasing me all night, i cant hate you like this,” he smiles as his fingers trail from my waist to my thighs, circling his fingers on my skin.

he leans his head closer before taking out the vampire teeth and moving his mouth to my neck, kissing and marking me, i let out a slight gasp as he captures my skin between his teeth, slightly biting and giggling as i make small noises. “mmm,” he pulls away to admire the marks he made from my neck to my collarbones, he smiles and moves his hand to my cheek, “so pretty baby,” all i can do is look at him, those eyes, his hair, his hands, and i can’t stop to think about what he’ll do to me next…

he kneels down and he starts to pull down my skirt, smirking up at me as he throws it to the side, leaning down to kiss around my thighs, i bite my lip gently. his hands rest at the top of my underwear, teasing me.

“matt, please..” i say softly, he chuckles as he pulls down my panties, throwing them aside too. he looks at my eyes, wanting to see my every reaction. he moves his finger to land right on my clit, aching for his touch.

“mph.. pleeeease..” i look down at his finger on me, waiting for him to move it. his smirk grows seeing how desperate i am, “learn to be patient baby,”

he puts his hands on my waist again and pulls me forward off the counter, i look a little confused as i stand in front of him, looking up at him, “don’t worry, just. be. patient.” his hands on my waist move off and one on the back of my head, gripping onto my hair, i whine a little as his hand pulls my head up to look at him more, “beautiful,” he smiles as he leans his head down, sealing our lips together.

“mm.. get down,” he says firmly as he moves away from the kiss, i feel his hand pushing me down a little, to get me on my knees. i kneel down in front of him and his grip loosens on my head, “good girl,” he leans down a little whispering in my ear then moving back up, staring down at me.

he moves his hand to my cheek, his thumb to my lips as he parts them, “oh baby..” he takes his hand off my face, “well?” he tilts his head a little and i stop looking at him, my hands move onto the top of his pants, undoing the belt, im nervous but at the same time… ive been waiting for this, for so fucking long. i put his belt to the side and my hands shake a little, before taking his pants off i wait a little and look up at him, my heart racing. i hear him laugh a little as he stares down at me, “no ones stopping you,”

i look back down, and grip onto the top of his pants, pulling them down as he steps out of them, his hand moving back to the top of my head. the perfect outline of his rock hard dick, a wet spot on his boxers at the tip, i need him to throat fuck me, my hands rest at the top of his boxers, as i just look. fuck. “its rude to stare,” he says softly, smirking down at me still.

i pull down his boxers as his dick springs out, hitting the side of my face. i feel matts grip on my hair tighten slightly. precum leaking out his red tip, his other hand grips his dick and moves it to caress my lips.

“open up baby,” i part my lips, sticking out my tongue a bit as he rubs it on my tongue, i stare up at him as he keeps his eyes on my mouth. he slides it inside, my lips wrapping around it as he moves both his hands to my head, gripping my hair tightly and pushing my head forward, his tip reaching the back of my throat as i look up and him, his eyes shut and head leaning up, “fuck baby.. youre amazing,”

he speeds up, fucking my throat good as i start gagging. his hands holding me down at the base, spit drips out as i try to not gag as his hips buck at my mouth as he finishes, releasing my head and pulling out of my mouth. i spit out his cum mixed with my spit, catching my breath as i lean my head against the cabinets below the sink.

“fuck..” i gasp, as he kneels down in front of me, both of us sitting as he puts his hand on my cheek, my eyes opening to look at him as i pant. his hand moves to wipe off some spit by my lip, “you did so good.. cant wait to find out what else youre good at,” he smiles as he pulls me in kissing my mouth then standing back up again.

“get up.” my arms a little shaky, i use them to help me up off the floor as i stand in front of him. “turn around baby” i do, staring at the mirror, i feel his hands move to my ass, kneeding it as i look at myself, my makeup and ‘whiskers’ smudged. my hair all messed up and the cat ears unbalanced on my head.

his hands play with my ass then moving to my stomach his fingers moving down to my aching clit as he starts to circle around it, “fuck!” my head drops down as one of his hand reaches to my head, gripping my hair and forcing my head back up, “look or ill stop.” i force my eyes open as my knees buckle and i let out small whimpers, biting my lip trying to be quiet. “mm.. so wet for me baby..”

his head turns as he moves to my neck, kissing me as he circles my clit faster and faster. my teeth clench down as i keep forcing my eyes open as he continues to mark my neck even more.

“fuck, please matt..” i moan as i lean my arms to my elbows on the counter, his hand gripping my hair more as my body shakes and i let out a louder moan as i finish over his fingers.

he leans up from kissing me, taking his hand off me, he sticks those fingers up in front my face as his other hand still holds my head up, “cmon baby, see how you taste,” as i pant i stick out my tounge, his fingers moving to my mouth, sticking them in as i close my lips on his fingers.

he slides them out then giving my cheek small pats as he whispers in my ear, “good girl,” he then moves both his hands to my waist, making my head drop down. he pulls my hips toward him as his dick rubs against my ass.

before i know it he pushes inside me, making me gasp as he starts to thrust into me, grabbing at my hips, not even letting me get a second to adjust to him, “fuck! matt!” i moan as my eyes shut hard, my fingers gripping onto the counter. “mm.. you feel so good,”

he moves his hips faster and faster, slapping against me, “fuck, i’m close baby,” his fingers dig into my hips as i let out mindless moans. “you want me to cum inside you? hmm?” his breath hot against my skin as one of his hands move back to my head, gripping my hair again, “answer me.”

my head leans up as i try to nod my head, “yeah? you slut.” he drops my head again, thrusting into me as he finishes inside me, filling me up. he pulls out, his cum dripping out, “slut” he smirks again as his head leans to kiss my neck, “i’m starting to think you don’t hate me,” i smile as i breathe heavy.

“oh baby, i could never hate you…” he whispers, smiling on my skin as he hugs my waist. “mph.. m-matt..” i gag a little, dropping down onto the floor, carrying myself to the toilet as matt moves to lift up the seat then holding my hair as i throw up. “shit…” he laughs as i use the back of my hand to wipe off my mouth, closing the seat and flushing, “uh.. sorry,” i laugh a little as matt then kneels down next to me.

“you good?” i nod a little, “i think i am now…” we both turn our heads to each other as we start bursting out laughing on the bathroom floor, our clothes scattered around and both of us catching our breath still, “i’m.. im sorry i was a jerk to you…”

“i would’ve never thought i’d ever hear you apologize but.. i accept..” i smile, both of us still laughing as matt leans to me again, kissing me as he holds my face in his hands. “let’s get out of here?”

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld

[johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend]

hello!! I was wondering if you could do a johnnie x reader smut where y/n sits on johnnies lap and he fingers her and talks softly to her while doing it 😝

of COURSE i can this is also kinda answering this request!: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, how are you? I was wondering if i could request a johnnie x reader (gf) smut where she has a hand kink and johnnie makes her get off on his thigh and his fingers (im such a slut for dom johnnie)

𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

CONTAINS: angst?, fluff, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), praising, fingering, creampie, squirting (new feature unlocked😱), overstimulation (going round4round)

WC: not sure rn

story below the cut:

——————

throughout the past few weeks, johnnie had been unavailable. whether it was filming, or hanging out with jake and carrington. of course you still saw him, but you missed him. by the time you would wake up, the other side of the bed was already empty. this didn’t only make you sad, but frustrated. you just wanted your boyfriend to be there for you, and have someone to lean on. it was 2 p.m., where once again, you wake up cold, with no arms around you.

y/n: where are you?

johnnie: filming again, sorry baby i’ll be back later

y/n: r we still on for dinner tonight?

johnnie: of course, i’ll see you soon ❤️

y/n: okay have fun, love you :)

you sigh, feeling mentally and physically drained despite not doing a single thing. at least you and johnnie had actually planned for something tonight even with his busy schedule.

——————

sitting at the vanity, you were patting light makeup on your skin, followed by some cute eyeliner and lip gloss. the time was currently 7:30 and the reservation was for 8:15 p.m., so he should be there any minute. throwing on a cute black mini dress, paired with some heels, your outfit was complete.

y/n: helloooo its 7:50

y/n: we need to leave like now

y/n: ?? (delivered)

5 minutes pass, then 20, then an hour. you sat on your phone, scrolling on tiktok before finally accepting the reality of the situation. he wasn’t coming anytime soon. and that’s when you started to cry. taking off your shoes and putting on a hoodie, you crawled on the bed, too lazy to take anything else off.

resting your back on the headboard, you hear the front door unlock and the scuffle of shoes, along with some other voices. johnnie opens the door,

“i’m here i-“

“it’s 9:30.” you say, sniffling.

“what? oh shit sorry i forgot we had plans”

“yeah? you’re sorry? i’ve barely seen you for weeks now and that’s all?”

“babe i swear i wasn’t looking at the time it was just that jake and carrington dragged me to go places and-“

“jake this and carrington that, why does it always have to be about them?”

“because they’re my friends-“

“yeah well i’m your fucking girlfriend,” the room went quiet.

“but you know what? lately it feels like i’m not and maybe it should stay that way.”

“why are you being so dramatic about it?”

you’re furious. you get off the bed, and start walking to the kitchen. johnnie grabs your shoulders, turning you around, and pulling you into a hug. you smell his cologne, starting to break down into tears, burying your face deeper into his chest. deep down, you know he hates seeing you cry and get angry. you just felt so hurt.

“why? why do you have to do this to me. i miss you, i just want you to be with me and hold me. but you’re always too busy.”

he pats your head, running his fingers through your hair, while you let it out. once you collect yourself, you look up at him, with tear stains and a red nose.

“i love you. i’m so sorry for leaving you all the time, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,”

“and you’re not overreacting.”

johnnie pulls you into a sweet and tender kiss, full of love and affection, but you pull back first. still upset, you look to the ground. he takes your face in his hands,

“let me make it up to you baby.”

he lowers his head to your neck, softly biting at your skin, making you let out a relieve sigh. then he kisses you again, this time being rougher and filled with more lust. you moan as his tongue reaches your mouth. before anyone sees this, he lifts your legs up, leaving kisses on your jaw while taking you back to his room.

he uses your back to close the door, walking towards the bed. he sets you down gently and helps you take your hoodie off. “baby you look amazing in this dress, you’re gonna have to wear it again soon” he pushes you down, trailing kisses from your neck, down to your collarbone. starting to lift your dress up and over your head, taking it off completely, it also reveals a set of black lingere you had put on beforehand.

“you wore this for me y/n?”

“mhm”

“it would look even better off of you”

you hum in response as he leaves hickeys right above your lacy bra. he plants kisses down your chest and stomach, to your core. he takes off his t-shirt and jeans. after, he takes off your panties, covering his finger with your wetness, and inserting it. “just relax angel i’m gonna take such good care of you” you groan as he starts sucking your breasts, giving equal attention, as he pumps another finger into you, increasing the speed a little. your breaths get heavier as you grip the bedsheets. “more m’ please” you whine. he goes even faster as you bite your lip to stop yourself from melting. arching your back for more friction against his hand, he uses another finger to rub your clit. “yeah baby thats it, just cum on my fingers” while he says that, you feel the knot in your stomach coming undone. “oh shit” you moan out, shaking slightly and cumming.

he pulls down his boxers, taking them off. he’s already really hard, so he coats his dick with your cum. the rooms feels as though it gets hotter with every breath you take in. he teases your clit with his tip, rubbing it slightly. “johnnie just fuck me already please,” you breathe out. “alright princess” he says, pushing fully into you, but slowly, groaning while letting you adjust to his length. “still so tight baby” he says, making you bite your lip, muffling your moan. “don’t do that, i want to hear all your pretty noises.” he picks up the pace, getting faster which each thrust.

“you’re so beautiful y/n” he says, you hold onto his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, hitting the right stop. “uh, fuck” with every sound you make, it encourages him to go harder, and faster. “shit, m’ gonna cum,” you moan out. johnnie’s breath gets heavier as he lifts your leg up, pounding even deeper into you. “inside,” you manage to get out as pleasure washes over you. shortly after, he thrusts one last time, cumming inside you.

he kisses your lips, but it’s not over just yet. johnnie comes closer, “baby, please ride my face” he whispers in your ear. at this point, you felt so overstimulated, but could never say no to that handsome face. you instantly get wetter again, and agree, putting him to the side and then climbing on top of his abdomen. “are you sure?” “one hunder percent,” he says, practically forcing your legs closer to his head.

you hover on top of his face, scared to suffocate him. however, he immediately pulls your thighs down, making you sit entirely while you let a moan out. he starts eating you out, flicking his tongue, somehow making you feel even better. “just like that,” he knew this time that you wouldn’t last that long, especially after the two orgasms you just had. so, he digs his mouth even deeper into your pussy, like the world was ending. this pulled a string of curse words out of you. “oh fuck,” is the last thing you can say, before you feel your whole body shaking, but this time it was new to you. you had squirted from the overstimulation, on johnnie’s face.

after, you get off of him, somewhat embarrassed. “uhm, i don’t know how, uh, that has never happened to me before-“

“no, that was hot.” he kisses your forehead gently before putting his boxers back on and getting a towel for both of you. he cleans you up and gives you a shirt to wear while he goes to grab new sheets. you sit on the floor with dead legs while he changes it for you. “i’m never washing this bed sheets ever again,” he says. “ewww,” you jokingly say back while laughing. he carries you in a cradle, setting you back down on the bed.

“so… are you still mad at me?”

“i could never stay mad at you,” you say, pulling him in for a hug.

—————

ENJOY THIS LADIES, YOUR BITCH IS BACK

currently working on some requests but theres NOT ENOUGH!! please always leave requests in my inboxesss 🩷 see u in the next 1!

[miguelsslvt]

miguel o'hara x goth girl! spider! reader smut drabble

word count: 756

TW: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, y/n gets fucked dumb, creampie, fingering, spanish translated from google translate so it isn't very good i'm so sorry. and also it isn't exactly stated that y/n is 'goth', it's literally just heer style and i hate it sm that i write it like that i'm so sorry.

A/N: so basically i got requested to do a college au! goth girl x reader but i didn’t read the ‘college’ bit and i got a bit carried away so… here’s the shitty goth spider! reader whilst i try writing the college au!! anyways two posts in one night?? ahh! this is severely unedited and not even proofread, so i hope i did okay! i can always rewrite if you don't like it:). also i love doing requests so much, so pls give me more! welcome to the club! ^^

you were a smart girl. well, smart enough to notice the looks miguel gave you everytime you walked around spider society wearing your favourite black dress and fishnets. and you would be lying to yourself if you said the attention didn't make your legs tighten in anticipation.

you had your eyes on miguel since the first time you laid eyes on him when he recruited you. was it your everlasting hunger for male validation? maybe. was it the way his fingers flicked through tab to tab on his platform? most likely. was it the hunger you noticed in his eyes when he trailed his eyes along your figure? absolutely. that's why on the day you were supposed to come to miguel for 'monthly anomaly reports', you made sure to wear the short black skirt and fishnets you knew that would miguel drool. what? just because you were pretty didn't mean you were stupid.

after a beautiful walk around the graveyard near your home, placing some flowers on some empty graves, you decided to go back to the spider HQ, playing your favourite band, 'bauhaus'.

'spider goth. miguel would like you in his office.' your watch alarmed, as your smiled at lyla, nodding. before you walked into the office room, you made sure to fix your eyeliner so it didn't look too 'smoky' but smoky enough. you fixed your silver necklaces in place, as you walked in. 'yes miguel?'

fuck, that voice. miguel thought. he turned around slightly to take in your body. god, he could feel his dick twitch from just the sight of you. was it even normal to feel this way? 'sir? you seem a little.. distracted.' you said, tilting your head slightly. he smirked. if miguel was completely honest, he knew you knew how he felt about you. and the fact that you still continue to wear such provocative clothing around him, and the fact that you always give him that 'innocent' smile of yours was enough for him to know you enjoyed the attention.

'oh i think we both know why i'm distracted, spider goth-' 'y/n.' you cut him off. he seemed a bit taken aback. 'excuse me?' he asked. 'for you, it's y/n, sir.' you replied, walking up to his platform, your skirt riding up slightly as you sat on his desk.

god, he could take you right there. so he did.

✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩

'm-miguel!~' you moaned, eyes rolling back as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside you. your back was arched against the desk, as his hands held your hips roughly. your eyeliner and makeup was ruined, all over your cheeks as they were filled with tears. your fishnets were ruined, as your skirt was hitched up just above your ass, as miguel groaned in relief.

'god you don't know how long i've wanted this.. mi niña bonita~' he cooed, smirking as you gasped for air, holding onto the desk. (my pretty girl)

you had lost count on how many times miguel made you cum in just one hour, but right now you couldn't care. your legs were numb, mind was fuzzy and you could swear you were seeing stars. you fucked out dizzy expression urged miguel further, chasing both of your highs.

'g-god m-miguel g-gonna c-cum again..!' you moaned loudly, as miguel leaned closer to your ear, moving your jaw so he could see your dumb face.

you were drooling, crying, your hair and makeup was a mess. and mguel didn't think you could get any more prettier then this. god, and the way you clenched and gaped around him made him cum almost instantly. but he would wait. 'cum for me, that's it.. jodido tan tonto que ni siquiera puedes pensar, ¿verdad?' he teased, as he thrusts became sloppy once again. (fucked so dumb you can't even think, right?)

you reached you peak, letting out a loud gasp, as miguel held your jaw,his nose in your neck as he whispered to you. 'thaat's it.. that's my girl.. there you go..' he praised, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible as he let his load in you.

it was alot, as you came down from your high, panting for air. miguel groaned as he pulled out, leaving a string of his cum and your juices out. he just let a deep breath, tutting. 'ay.. no.. mi dulce chica.. you're supposed you keep it inside. looks like i'm gonna have to plug it back in.' miguel said, sticking his finger inside you, making you squeal in overstimulation. (my sweet girl)

'let's take care of the mess you made, yeah?' he cooed, as you nodded mindlessly. there was one thing miguel will never admit, though.

and that's miguel likes it messy.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎