#i just want to see the pictures tagged with a certain tag

[rottiens]

✮ tags. established relationship, thighs fucking, fem!reader, praising (good girl, attagirl).

✮ notes. I mean had to,,, Isagi with a thighs kink is asking me to write this (please expect more on this ksjd), thanks for reading! divider creds: adornedwithlight.

✮ wc. 3.0k

This is Isagi's first official relationship, and sometimes that makes him feel unsure about how he should act or whether he should choose his words more carefully now that you've gone from being best friends to being a couple. You're his girlfriend, and while he used to fantasize about the idea many times, experiencing it in reality —holding your hand, receiving your sweet kisses— till brings a knot in his stomach. Every time he calls you “his girl” or “his girlfriend,” the weight of the word reminds him that this time it's real and not a dream like the ones he had so many times.

However, despite the trust that clearly exists between you, there are certain aspects of himself that cause him discomfort that he can't ignore... a tension in his stomach that comes with a mixture of nerves and guilt. That feeling squeezes him inside every time he thinks of confessing to you, for example, how much he is fascinated by your thighs and the things he has come to imagine when he sees them.

And you, without realizing it, don't make things easy either with your clothing choices: those short skirts that leave little to the imagination, tight dresses, or when you decide to cover your legs with black stockings or knee-high socks. Sometimes, it seems like you do it on purpose, given how often Isagi has gotten a glimpse of your panties peeking out from between the folds of your skirt every time you bend over.

As Isagi relives this feeling of embarrassment again, you are kneeling on the floor, curiously exploring the contents of an antique box, filled with Isagi's memories. Dusty framed photos, trophies and medals won throughout his career, little relics that speak of his accomplishments and passion that fill you with pride and curiosity as you continue your exploration. Isagi is lying on the bed, leaning on several pillows and holding his phone in his hand, but unable to resist glancing at you from time to time. He watches every time you pull out an object, admire it and take a picture of it, and although he finds you adorable, he keeps his comments to himself, quietly enjoying the scene.

Then, you pull out an old shirt from one of his previous teams, and hold it in front of him with a mischievous smile. His gaze softens, the memories stirring some nostalgia in him.

“Can I try it on?” you ask, cocking your face to one side with an innocent air.

Without much thought, Isagi nods and sets his phone down on the side of the mattress, this time focused entirely on you. At times like this, he's thankful he's wearing baggy shorts, otherwise you'd instantly notice the effect you're having on him. The cotton hirt, a somewhat faded navy blue, reaches just above your thighs, threatening to reveal more than it should if you decide to raise your arms or move nonchalantly around his room. The possibility of that happening, that the tiny skirt rises a little higher than it should, makes his breathing quicken a little, knowing that this time, the glimpse of your panties could last much longer than a fleeting moment.

Isagi clears his throat, trying to hide the blush that colors his face, but the attempt only makes his shyness even more apparent. With hurried movements, he grabs a pillow and places it over his crotch, hoping you won't notice his erection.

“I love the way it looks on you... much better than it does on me,” he lets out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, though the slight tremor in his voice gives it away. “You can keep it, if you want.” He smiles at you, trying to keep his composure, while his eyes can't help but roam over the way the fabric molds to your body.

You get up from the floor and, after smoothing the shirt down a little, you walk over to the bed. You slide down on all fours until you're settled between his legs, with the pillow still sandwiched between you like a fragile barrier. Your arms entwine around his neck, and at that moment he inhales deeply: now you smell of him, of the memories impregnated in that old shirt that hadn't seen the light for years, and you also smell of you, of that sweet, floral perfume that every time you wear it awakens in him a mixture of intense feelings.

“Thank you. Of course I wanna keep it,” you murmur before peppering his face with a shower of fleeting kisses, each one making it even harder for him to ignore the closeness. The softness of your lips, the touch of your fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, cause him to let out a soft moan. You pause for a moment, pulling away to look at him intently, watching the expression on his face. 

“You look... so tense all of a sudden. Is everything okay?” you ask, your eyes searching for some sign of what's going through his mind. You watch his cheeks, now as flushed as you had noticed from before, when you were not yet so close. 

For a moment, Isagi finds himself at a loss as to what to do with his own hands. Finally he decides to place them on your lower back, leaving them there, still. Then, he spreads his thighs a little further apart to give you space and allow you to settle better between them. Sitting back on your heels, your gaze, laden with sweet, lingering concern, seems to pierce him, and that unsettles him. His blue eyes soften as he swallows saliva, wetting his dry throat before trying to say something. It was now or never.

You have been friends forever. You had known him in childhood, and what started as sporadic conversations soon turned into long, deep talks in which he felt increasingly exposed and understood. When he was away from home, just a phone call from you was enough to comfort him, to remind him that all the effort and sacrifice in his career would one day pay off.

He trusted you absolutely, in every word of support and in the certainty that, come what may, there was nothing that could scare you away. You knew his most hidden and secret fears, even some of his desires and aspirations that he had never shared with anyone else. If, deep down, you rejected that confession about his obsession with your thighs, that was okay; at least it wasn't as embarrassing as admitting how much he loved it when you praised him, right?

Isagi lets out a sigh, as if he had finally dropped a weight he was carrying. “It's nothing, it's just... you look so good in my shirt,” he murmurs, his voice laden with that mixture of nervousness and yearning he tries so hard to hide. At his confession, your shoulders drop visibly relaxed, though you hold your posture, waiting for him to continue. “I'm gonna say it, as weird as it sounds, but your thighs...” His words snap, and your eyes widen barely, as a hesitant smile threatens to form on your lips.

“I know,” you reply softly, and hearing you, Isagi feels his heart beat even harder. You have lightened the burden of his words by acknowledging something he had always been afraid to say aloud. “I've noticed, you're not exactly... discreet,” you add, and a soft, sparkling chuckle escapes from you, causing his muscles to tense with a current of excitement and nerves. Then, leaning in just barely close, you tell him in a low, expectant voice, “I don't think it's strange. But I want to hear, exactly, what you think.”

Those last words hang in the air between you, and he feels a current of honesty and vulnerability begin to work its way up his throat.

Isagi stands still for a long second, as if searching for the right words or perhaps thinking about what he's about to do. You wish you could read what's hidden behind those big blue eyes that always look at you so tenderly.

Slowly, his gaze descends to your thighs, and his fingers begin to gently caress them up and down. The skin under his fingers feels incredibly soft, the gentle rubbing of your after-shower lotion sliding under his palms. With his thumbs, he begins to trace small circles that seem to accompany the rhythm of his next words.

“I want to kiss them,” he confesses, a pause in his voice as his eyes lift to meet yours. Then he hesitates a moment longer. “I want to leave marks with my teeth on them. I wanna-” His voice grows more confident, his touch becomes a little firmer, and his hands move to the edge of his shirt, which barely covers your core.

“You can say it,” you encourage him, moistening your lips in anticipation.

“I want to fuck them,” he says, holding your gaze. For a moment, your gazes intertwine in silence, and without a word, you seek his fingers with yours, gently guiding them to slide deeper, higher, closer to the edge of your panties.

“You can do whatever you want with them,” you whisper sweetly, an invitation full of trust.

Then, without further hesitation, he leans into you, kissing you with a passion that hides neither fear nor shame. You let him melt in your mouth, his lips molding yours with a voracious calm, taking the lead in the kiss as he always does, guiding each movement with overwhelming confidence as two of his fingers massage your clit through your soaked panties.

The kiss is sloppy and a little messy, unhurried, but with the precise intensity that anticipates what is to come. His tongue brushes yours in an intimate dance, and the murmur of the fan, along with the everyday noises of his apartment, fade away, drowned out by your moans and his. Gently, he lays you down on the mattress, where the only sound is the rustling of the sheets as they become disheveled.

Isagi pauses for a moment observing the way the edge of your shirt along with your skirt rises above your thighs, exposing the pink lingerie you are wearing. The fabric is barely tangled at your navel, and with a slight smile, he leans down to kiss one of your calves.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his lips still pressed to your skin. You, biting your lip, try to hide a teasing smile. “Are you sure?” he asks you, his eyes searching for some shadow of doubt on your face.

You nod confirming to him that you don't feel like backing out, letting out an eager sigh that fills your lungs. He leans over to the bedside table, looking for something in one of the drawers. Finally, he pulls out a small bottle of oil and drops a generous amount into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it before he begins massaging your thighs. His thumbs press and glide close to your core, brushing against the line of your panties without actually touching you creating that aching anticipation.

“Feels good...” you murmur, letting your hips rise instinctively, seeking more of that delicious pressure.

“Yeah? I can tell. You're soaking your panties, baby.”

Before you can say anything, Isagi moves with an agility that takes you by surprise. In a single, fluid motion, his shirt drops to the floor, quickly followed by his shorts. The sight of his worked torso and him covered only by tight boxers takes your breath away, making any coherent thoughts instantly disappear. It's not the first time you've seen him like this, but it's the first time he's done it while on top of you. 

With a fresh portion of oil that he drops into his hand, he slides the liquid down his cock, droplets that he will later take care of wiping slip down to the sheets, and then he takes your thighs and squeezes them together, creating a perfect space to slide between them. 

A deep, pleasure-laden growl escapes his lips as he leans forward, resting his forehead on your knees, his warm breath coursing across your skin. You feel the firm, steady pressure of his movements, the rush of his thrusts sliding you subtly over the surface of the mattress. Your feet rest flat against his chest, and the position only intensifies every sensation that passes through your body. The sound of the oil mixed with the rhythm of his strokes fills the room with a rhythmic, intoxicating gush.

It is exquisite to see Isagi lost in this ecstasy, his thrusts are slow and deep giving you a glimpse of the pink tip of his cock peeking between your thighs. He is completely absorbed in you. Deep, halting moans escape his lips with increasing frequency, and he keeps his intense, clouded gaze fixed intently on you. His eyes seem to search for every detail that tells him you're enjoying this too as he lifts his face, and the dark locks of his messy hair over his forehead give him an almost primal look. Every sign on him, from the tremor in his shoulders to the firmness with which he holds you, is a clear warning of how close he is to his limit.

Isagi adjusts you carefully, bending your knees so that every push of his cock rubs not only against the pressure of your thighs, but also against the soggy softness of your panties. The reddened, sensitive tip of his dick brushes the bud of your clit with every movement, further igniting the gasps that escape you, where his name slips on every exhale and his chest swells with raw pride.

“You're so pretty. Such a pretty girl, letting me fuck your thighs like this, ugh? Attagirl. My good girl.” The words, spoken in a low, almost reverent tone, sweep over you like a caress and light up your face, at the same time your thighs instinctively clench around him, earning a groan of approval from Isagi.

Eager to intensify the bond between the two of you, you lift up your shirt until your breasts, barely covered by a light pink bra that stands out against your skin, are in full view. The semi-transparent fabric reveals your hardened nipples that make Isagi's mouth water, and as you begin to caress them, tugging at them, Isagi's eyes glisten with desire as he curses between clenched teeth.

"You think you can cum like this? With my cock rubbing against your covered pussy, hm?”

“I-,” you gasp, tugging a little harder on your nipples as you imagine it's his fingers doing it. “I can try,” you whisper, feeling the arousal slide between your pussy lips with each rub.

The tension grows in your abdomen with every second, every caress and every word from him, like a spiral that pulls you mercilessly. “I think... I'm gonna cum,” you confess between ragged breaths.

“Do it, please. I can't cum without you cumming first.” Isagi pauses for just a moment, releasing your numb thighs to push your panties aside and reveal the trail of desire he left in you. Without wasting time, his fingers find your clit and caress it with precision, moving from side to side, causing you to arch your back, lifting you into his caresses. ”C'mon, baby. Give it to me, pretty please.”

His words, soft and possessive, are the last spark you need, and in a burst of pleasure you cover your face with your hands, trying to silence the scream escaping your throat as your thighs tremble uncontrollably under the intensity of your orgasm. He responds with tender kisses, covering every corner of your skin within his reach as he stops assaulting your sensitive clit to then massage your skin.

He pulls you to him, kissing you with a mixture of tenderness and passion. As his lips play with yours, your hand finds his cock, still throbbing, ready and warm against your belly. Without hesitation, you begin to jerk him off with steady rhythm, catching his moans and whispers on your tongue, until finally his release comes. With a deep shudder, his orgasm explodes, leaving a string of heavy white ropes painting your tummy. 

Between deep breaths, you both share one last complicit giggle before Isagi drops down beside you. Small beads of sweat cover his temples and chest.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek gently. His blue eyes fixed on yours, trapping you in that ocean.

Biting your lip, you nod. “Let's do it again,” you whisper with a playful giggle. “Next time, I want you inside.”

Isagi holds his breath for a moment, taken aback by the audacity of your words. But excitement quickly replaces any hint of nerves, and in one swift movement, he positions himself on top of you again, making you chuckle with his enthusiasm.

“Are you ready again already?” he joins in as an accomplice to your laughter, with a playful glint in his eyes.

“And you're not?” he murmurs, hiding in the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses leading down to your neck.

“First, water and a movie,” you propose, stroking his hair and the action instantly makes him purr. “I wanna cuddle with you.”

“Anything else you're craving?” he asks, pulling away a little with a silly grin, completely uninhibited.

“A massage would be nice, you left me a little sore.”

Isagi nods, with obvious kindness. “I'm gonna order something sweet for the both of us too; I'm very hungry all of a sudden.”

Just as he gets ready to get up in search of his phone, you stop him, intertwining your fingers with his and gently catching his attention. Isagi looks at you intently, expectantly.

“I love you,” you whisper, and the raw sincerity in your words makes the moment go on forever, making it another memory Isagi will cling to when he's away from home.

He smiles at you, the sparkle in his eyes intensifying. “I love you more,” he replies, gently squeezing your hand. 

[wheneverfeasible]

Ruin Me (part 6/Finale)

wc: 2.5k || rating: E || story summary: Steve shows up on Eddie’s doorstep with an offer he can’t refuse. || chapter summary: The boys realize what they want is more than just one night. || tags: omegaverse, alpha!Eddie Munson, omega!Steve Harrington, intersex omegas, explicit content (see ao3 for full tags) || posted in full on ao3

See bottom for commentary

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Previously…

Unthinkingly, Eddie dropped another kiss to Steve’s forehead and then he was all but escaping his room to get Steve a glass of water. Fucking tap water, nothing filtered properly because he lived in a fucking trailer and Steve…Steve was used to the nicer things in life.

Which wasn’t Eddie.

“Christ, Munson, if your old man could see you now,” he muttered to himself, picturing the Munson Doctrine just flying out the window, as he filled up a glass. Not even a proper glass at that, either, but one of those novelty promotional things Wayne had gotten at McDonald’s with the purple guy on the front.

Whatever. It wasn’t like he could impress Steve even if he tried.

Coming back into the room, Eddie took a moment to take in the sight of Steve. The boy had settled more fully into the bed, laying under the covers with his nose buried in the blanket, eyes closed.

He wasn’t asleep, that much was certain with how he was nuzzling against the material every so often, but Eddie could tell that it was a losing battle.

He tried not to feel too much pride at fucking Steve into exhaustion.

“C’mon, Stevie, drink some water and take your pill,” he coaxed, setting the glass on the bedside table to rest a hand on Steve’s shoulder. He gently helped the other boy sit back up, trying his hardest not to smile at the sleepy but content look on Steve’s face.

“I like that,” Steve murmured quietly.

Eddie let out a small hum as he got Steve situated back up to a sitting position. “Like what?”

“When you call me that. Stevie.”

Eddie froze. Steve, seemingly unaware, took the glass Eddie was now holding out and dutifully took the pill and drank down more than half the water. He made a little grimace at the taste, but didn’t make any comments about its lack of filteredness. Steve then set the glass down and reached for Eddie’s hand, tugging him down onto the bed with him.

Eddie went easily, still caught on Steve liking the nickname that, admittedly, had probably started out somewhat mockingly but now was anything but. Steve’s arm wrapped around Eddie, encouraging him to lay down with him, and then he was shoving his nose back into Eddie’s neck and inhaling his scent again as he pressed against his side.

“I like your scent too,” Steve quietly murmured, lips brushing against Eddie’s suddenly very overly sensitive skin.

“So you said,” Eddie said, voice tight. “Bitter and soggy, I remember.”

Steve just laughed, lightly slapping a hand to Eddie’s chest, before he just left it there. His fingers idly began playing along the slight muscle definition Eddie had from moving heavy band equipment around every week, before lightly playing with the chain around his neck holding his pick.

“You smell good, alpha,” Steve murmured, and Eddie felt a spark go through him at Steve calling him that again when not in the babbling throes of passion.

Swallowing whatever was lodged in his throat, Eddie carefully wrapped his arm around Steve’s back until the omega was curled tighter against his side, legs tangling up slightly. “Yeah? Well you smell absolutely sinful, omega,” he gently teased, bringing his other hand to lightly settle over Steve’s on his chest.

“What do I smell like? No one’s ever really told me before. Just that I didn’t smell like the typical omega. Not sweet enough.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. You’re plenty sweet,” Eddie said with a small snort. He considered Steve’s words, however, tried to find an answer for him to make him happy.

“You’re sweet, but not like sugar. It’s…warm. There’s something acidic there, but not…bad. More…citrusy maybe? And something spiced, not spicy.” Eddie lightly huffed. “I don’t know how you can name off specific things like you did. I can’t tell what smells are for shit. You’re lucky I could differentiate anything at all.”

Steve’s laughter at that brought that lump back into Eddie’s throat. The omega pulled his head back though to noticeably roll his eyes. “Tell me you’ve never stepped foot into a kitchen without telling me you’ve never stepped foot into a kitchen.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested, trying not to laugh at Steve’s snark that he was finding far more endearing than bitchy. “I can make a mean pot of Chef Boyardee, thank you very much.”

“I stand corrected,” Steve said with a small snort of his own. He shook his head before settling it back against Eddie’s shoulder.

“It’s my parents, honestly. Dad agreed to let me stay in sports after I presented as long as I took up ‘proper omega pastimes’ as well,” he said mockingly, and Eddie could hear the air quotes though Steve’s fingers stayed pressed against him.

“So I had to give up shop class for home economics, and had to start helping my mom with making meals and taking care of housework.” Steve let out a slight grumble. “Pretty sure he only agreed to letting me stay on the team because I was the captain, but with Hargrove gunning for the spot…”

Eddie frowned at that. It was obvious that Steve liked sports; even someone who avoided sports like the plague like Eddie did could see that much. The idea that Steve’s father would rip that away from his son just because of his secondary gender…it wasn’t fair.

“So you’re a good cook then, Stevie?” he asked, wanting to turn Steve away from more depressing thoughts.

Predictably, Steve brightened up again, burrowing closer against Eddie once more. “Yeah, I like to think so. Dustin and the others don’t really complain when I’ve cooked for them, and Joyce even complimented me on my ragù and asked for the recipe.”

Dustin again. Who the hell was this Dustin he kept hearing about? Another alpha? Then why didn’t Steve just go to Dustin for help?

“You’re starting to smell weird again,” Steve complained.

Forcing himself to let it go…mostly…Eddie tightly asked, “Who’s Dustin?”

Steve brightened even further, and it might have made Eddie’s smell even worse, if Steve’s next words didn’t immediately throw Eddie for a loop. “He’s one of my pups!” He laughed a little at that. “He hates it when I call him that, though. He’s a friend, one of these kids I…babysit sometimes.”

Steve “The Hair” Harrington was a babysitter??

“You babysit?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask, befuddled at this new development into just who exactly this boy in his arms was.

“Unofficially,” Steve said, and though he grumbled it, Eddie could feel the smile pressed into his shoulder. “I don’t get paid for it or anything. I just help watch this rabid pack of middle schoolers. They start high school in the fall and I don’t know if I’m happy or disappointed I won’t be with them when they do.”

Steve watched middle schoolers???

“You’d actually probably like them. Don’t you run that Dipshits and Dingbats game? They’re big fans of that. Well, most of them. El and Max don’t play.” Steve tensed slightly. “Max is actually Billy’s little sister,” he murmured quietly. “He’s an asshole to her too.”

Eddie’s mind was in a whirlwind with all this new information. Steve babysat. Steve babysat middle schoolers. At least one of these middle schoolers he considered an actual friend. This middle schooler friend introduced him to Star Wars. And, apparently, also played Dungeons and Dragons?? And Steve knew Eddie ran Hellfire???

Oh yeah, and one of Steve’s pseudo-pups was apparently Billy Hargrove’s little sister. Fantastic.

Lost in thought, Eddie unthinkingly brushed his lips over Steve’s forehead. “Baby boy, I feel like I don’t even know what is going on anymore,” he mumbled.

“Join the club,” Steve said with another snort. He tilted his head up to press a soft kiss to Eddie’s neck in return, causing Eddie to jolt slightly. Which then, in turn, caused Steve to flinch slightly and draw away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, moving as though to pull himself out of Eddie’s arms, prompting Eddie to hurriedly reach out and grasp the other boy’s chin, pulling him back in for a soft, gentle kiss.

Steve tensed for a brief moment before fully relaxing against Eddie with a content, happy sigh against Eddie’s lips. When Eddie released him, he snuggled back in against Eddie’s neck.

Eddie realized, with a horrifying certainty, that he wanted to keep him. Forever.

Fuck.

“Who’s Joyce?” Eddie asked in what was only a slightly strangled tone, trying to distract himself and possibly Steve from the realization that Eddie couldn’t hide from anymore.

“Hmm?” Steve asked sleepily around a yawn. “Oh, that’s Will’s mom. Will’s and Jon’s.”

Wait. Jon? As in Jonathan Byers???

“You’re friends with Zombie Bo—OOF!” Eddie wheezed out from where Steve had solidly smacked his diaphragm with the side of his fist.

“Don’t call him that,” Steve said fiercely, practically a growl, suddenly much more awake as he sat up to glare at Eddie. “He’s a good kid and what he went through was traumatic. That’s a stupid nickname and I don’t want to hear you use it ever again, understood?”

Eddie stared in awe at the fierce omega before him, all righteous fury for one of his pups, and Eddie realized with even more certainty that he didn’t just want to keep Steve Harrington; he wanted to be kept by Steve Harrington too.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t realize. I think it’s a pretty metal name, but I promise it won’t ever cross my lips again.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, as though looking for deceit, before huffing and laying back down. He squirmed a little, still obviously aching from their activities, before settling once more. Eddie wrapped both arms around him until Steve was practically laying on top of him and pressed a kiss to his hair.

“I am sorry. I didn’t think. Sometimes I say things with no filter. Obviously it would be traumatic. I promise none of the boys will call him that either when he joins Hellfire.”

Steve shot his head up again at that, mouth slightly agape. “Really? You’d let him join? And the others?”

Eddie grinned. “Well, only if they want to. Anyone can be in Hellfire if they wanna be in Hellfire. Even you, sweetheart,” he gently teased, booping Steve lightly on the nose.

Steve scrunched up his nose before letting out a soft laugh. “I doubt I’d actually be welcomed there. Dustin would blow a gasket if I ever actually played though,” he said with a small wicked grin. “He’s been asking me for ages. Even tried to get Nancy to play again to entice me. She’s Mike’s sister.”

Wheeler? Nope. Not happening. Wait…Steve was friends with his ex’s brother and the brother of the guy his ex left him for????

“Stevie, baby, I just don’t know if I can take any more of your secret lore tonight,” he muttered, earning a confused look from the boy in his arms.

He sighed, shaking his head against the pillow slightly before drawing Steve into another soft kiss. Steve’s cheeks were pink when he pulled back. “Come to Hellfire during our next meeting. We’ll teach you how to play and then you can make this Dustin kid blow all the gaskets.”

A shy smile curled at Steve’s lips. “Yeah? You’re not just looking for an excuse to get into my pants again are you?” he teased.

Eddie, risking it all to be as brave as the omega in his arms, grinned back. “Do I need an excuse?”

Steve chewed his lower lip once more in obvious hesitation, a brief flash of vulnerability bringing uncertainty to his expression, before he dropped his gaze.

Eddie gave him time to process it all, however, gently rubbing a thumb over Steve’s shoulder, mindful of the hickeys he’d left scattered there. He wanted to lick them. Despite his own anxiety, he tried to pretend like his heart wasn’t racing a million miles a minute.

Finally, after what seemed like forever to Eddie’s poor rattled nerves, Steve glanced up again at Eddie through his lashes. “Is it just my pants you want in?” he asked quietly.

Eddie felt a surge of hope. “I would really like to meet your pups too. Get to know them. And…get to know you better. Whether or not you ever want to do this again, I’d still like to see you again after tonight. But I won’t deny that I really want a repeat performance,” he added with a gently teasing grin.

Steve lightly huffed, rolling his eyes as though that could hide how his face flamed a soft pink. “Knothead,” he mumbled.

“Only for you, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed, taking Steve’s hand in his again to lift to his lips where he brushed a kiss against Steve’s palm. He then trailed his lips down to Steve’s wrist, nuzzling at the smaller scent gland there, causing Steve to suck in a soft breath. “Didn’t I tell you earlier I was going to make you mine? Ruin you for all other alphas?”

Something almost fragile flit across Steve’s expression at that, and Eddie realized this wasn’t biology. This wasn’t his secondary gender latching on to the biological imperative of claiming Steve now that they had coupled; this wasn’t his alpha trying to take Steve’s omega because that’s what nature dictated should happen.

No, this was merely Eddie wanting to make certain Steve never has to be that desperate, scared, or alone ever again because Steve didn’t deserve to be. Whether Steve was omega, beta, or even another alpha, Eddie knew that he’d be right back here, wanting Steve by his side.

Steve, who was so much more than Eddie had ever realized a person could be.

Steve, who was staring at him now like he had never seen him before, or like…he had never dared to hope how Eddie could be.

“Yeah, Munson?” Steve quietly asked. “Whatcha gonna do? Make an honest omega outta me after all?”

“Maybe I will, sweetness. Maybe I will,” Eddie smiled, because Steve’s sweet scent was there, full of tentative hope. “That is, if you can handle my bitter and soggy scent for more than one night,” he grinned.

Steve let out the most beautiful laugh Eddie had ever heard. “Oh, you are such an asshole,” he groaned, but then Steve was leaning in and answering Eddie’s question with a smiling kiss. Which was all good and all, but…

“I need your verbal confirmation, precious,” Eddie whispered against his lips, though he couldn’t stop his own lips from smiling either.

“Take me on a date first, alpha, and maybe you’ll get it,” Steve teased, and Eddie could only let out a small whoop of happiness, Steve answering it with his own laughter, as he wrapped his arms around Steve and rolled them over in bed, kissing Steve deeply where he pressed him into the mattress.

And no, things weren’t miraculously perfect. He knew they would need to worry about Steve’s parents, and he’d have to explain to Wayne why Steve would probably have to move in with them for a bit if things soured with the Harringtons, and they were technically still in school and Eddie was probably going to have to repeat senior year again, but…

In the morning, Eddie would find the perfect first courting gift. They might have rushed into the start of things, but they could take their time now. They would get to know each other properly, would take the time to test this thing between them, because there was a thing between them after all. A real thing.

A thing that Steve wanted just as much as he did, judging by his enthusiastic, smiling, laughing kissing.

“My alpha,” Steve breathed so prettily once they parted, rolling to curl against each other after Eddie reached over to turn off the light, nuzzling under Eddie’s chin to settle in for the night.

“My omega,” Eddie whispered back, pressing another gentle kiss to Steve’s hair as he held him, safe and protected.

Eddie fell asleep to Steve’s purring, his own chest rumbling with happy adoration and contentment.

By the time the sun rose on a new day full of promise, the storm had broken.

fin

Author commentary:

And it’s complete! But the story isn’t over yet 😉

Short and hopefully sweet, there isn’t too much commentary left here that won’t be answered in the upcoming companion piece featuring Steve’s POV and the morning after.

That being said, I did want to discuss scents again. I’ve mentioned before that Eddie isn’t really able to get specific scents because he’s not familiar with them, like most people. Steve, however, is able to get more specific with his scent recognization because he’s familiar with the components.

Steve’s parents are traditionalists, as previously stated. Especially his alpha father. He would definitely force an omega child into a “traditional omega role” which is basically the role women have been expected to be in for years in our reality. General misogyny still exists in this omegaverse as well, even against alpha women, but there’s more leeway for secondary genders.

Due to this, Steve is familiar with cooking and baking and thus familiar with the scents of food items and ingredients. It’s why he can tell that Eddie smells of molasses and dark chocolate, because I wanted Eddie to smell a little sweet while also being something earthy and rich.

And then I love the smell of petrichor (thank you Doctor Who for informing so many what it is called) and generally the smell of rain in the air, and wanted to give Eddie that scent as well. Something similar to Steve, but heavier.

While Steve doesn’t smell as sweet as other omegas, Eddie also smells sweeter than other alphas. Their differences are thus what connects them in similarity. The same by being different. I just thought that that would be a little poetic, a little wink wink nudge to show that these two belong together.

Now, these two have realized that they want more than just this single night together, both realizing that they like the other more than they initially intended to, though it won’t be entirely smooth sailing from here on out. They have Steve’s parents to deal with, of course, but also their own insecurities.

I’m not certain how short or long the next part will be, or even when it will come out, but I am currently working on it, so….we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?

Thank you everyone who has read and enjoyed this little story with me, and I hope to see you again!

~

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

For those just hanging out for this particular story, I’ll tag you whenever I post the companion too unless otherwise asked not to!

Fic tag:

@amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @estrellami-1

[soft5ku11]

Hey so I'm also an artist and a gainer and I was wandering do u have any tips on drawing fat men

Well, it's all about shapes - at least to me. Keep the shapes connected in the right way, with the right volume, and heaviness. That's what I try to focus on. Fat goes over the top of regular anatomy, so learning how that works first can really help.

What I did was just draw whatever and I learned as I drew more of it. It's all about trial and error, learning and evolving and recognising what you want to improve, rather than being discouraged by "this looks bad". Don't compare yourself to others, only yourself.

But, as with anything to do with art, collect inspiration, collect a huge amount of references. Print out your favourite artworks from other artists, smack 'em through a holepunch and keep em together with a treasury tag. Never be afraid to use yourself for a reference picture either. If you cant find something, just save the time instead of mindlessly scrolling image results on your search engine of choice. Especially since you're a gainer, you can use your own body to study how any niche angle or pose might look with your body type.

To add onto this, of course it'll vary from style to style but exaggerate your shapes, (coming back to the shapes thing) for example, I'll use this artwork of my DND guy that I recently did:

See how the shapes of certain parts aren't necessarily more muscled or fatter? The feet and hands for instance, they look better and read clearer if you exaggerate them a bit, and I already set the hands and feet on the 3D reference model I used to almost maximum. You can do this with heads to an extent as well, but it could make the character's proportions feel off. That part is a balancing act and you can find basic proportion guides for the body online to help with that. But - the thickness of the arms and legs and even the neck pulls the figure further from realistic proportions and more into a cartoony illustrative look. I could go on for ages about this but that's the basic gist of it.

One thing I think is exceptionally under-represented in art advice that I've seen in my time is DON'T UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF HAVING ARTIST FRIENDS! Learn from each other, talk about stuff, gather and share resources amongst yourselves, etc etc. You learn more when in groups, that's why school isn't one-on-one.

These are just some tips off the top of my head, there's always more out there and I'm sure one of these things won't work for you and others will, but make the leap like you've done here and ask other artists too. Lots of people would be willing to give some advice to help you get going, and you asking will also benefit others who might be too shy to ask so even if you don't take my advice, you can be happy that you've pulled it out of me for others to see at least XD

[zerogravityinq]

when the fuck did it became a thing for you to not be able to view someone's full blog and even if you only see posts, why the blithering fuck can't I view their archive???? WHY CAN'T I SEARCH THE TAGS ON THEIR BLOG FOR FUCKS SA-

[opikiquu]

(disappears for a month and reappears with a slightly obscure hyperfixation) Hey guys

[glacier-shrimp]

Done with our favorite Spider-Boy! Spiderling? Spider... What was his name again?

Avengers paper cutout 6/?

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[horizon-penblade]

you stop using quizlet for a year or two and suddenly it's Awful

[rodeoromeo]

I'm on anon because I'm too much of a coward to admit this on main, but old man George is so mfing hot. Everyone agrees 80s George is hot, but I mean Live In Japan George. I mean Anthology George with his tacky ponytail. I mean George in that "making of Brainwashed" video. Forget daddy issues, I think I have grandpa issues 🫣

I believe that you have the power to say this with your whole chest!!!! To the world!!! Because you’re RIGHT to say it. George in the making of brainwashed video SO so true he is SO fine. It’s time to shed the shame and stigma of being an old man appreciator it’s our time . Live in Japan george is UNDENIABLY hot. Live in Japan george you are everything to me. I have some things to SAY.

tell me you wouldn’t. TELL me you wouldn’t!!!

[storyweaverofgondor]

. . . I’m really missing talking about Cats with alonz-ho today.

(do not reblog)

[byuntrash101]

still your biggest fan. – 송민기.

SYNOPSIS. your boyfriend is on the other side of the globe touring. somehow you fear the cheers of the fans will make him forget about you. so you decide to remind him you are still and will always be his biggest fan

or in which you find a novel way to use your lightstick and send the video to your beloved bf.

mingi x f!reader, smut, mdni

tags. etablished relationship, facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), BLACK UNDERCUT MINGI (!!!!!!!!), jealous + slightly possessive reader, but mingi reassures her (awwww), use of (unconventional) toys (wink wonk im insane pls stop me), pet names, multiple orgasms (f), praises, squirting. wc. 2k

a/n. this mingi has me feral and the concert videos got me in a chokehold. and it's only the first date i need help. also shout out to that one video of yungi saying they use the lightstick to "relax" at night. not proofread.

There was one thing that was absolutely certain about Mingi: that man loved attention. That man lived for the roars of the crowd. When he danced, he was electrified by the cheers of the fans. And you knew your boyfriend was made to be on stage. He enjoyed the attention of fans, hence the fact he was constantly body rolling, hip thrusting and tongue poking. He loved to see the thousands of people thirst for him, he loved looking at all the concert videos all over the internet. He laughed and giggled at the tiktok edits, at the twitter threads, at every comment more over the top than the next.

Usually you don’t mind, you even enjoy them too. You like seeing him happy and fulfilled in his job but today maybe you’re a little insecure. He just flew out to start the American leg of the tour and you’re left behind in this bed that seems so empty. You fear somehow the loud cheers will make him forget about you. You don’t want that. You want to remind him. You want to make sure that today when he goes to sleep the last thing he sees is you. 

You looked at the time, your eyes darted to the digital clock on your night stand. At this time he was probably already at the hotel. It was pretty late for you but you wanted to send him a little treat, you knew how Mingi loved when you sent him videos of you playing with yourself and today you might add a little twist. 

You didn’t have much time if you wanted him to see the video before he slept…

***

Mingi was spent, true. But he was still pumped full of adrenaline when he stepped out of the shower with the ends of his raven black hair wet, the longer strands of his undercut dripping down. He didn’t even bother stepping into his pajamas, the AC was off and this part of the world in July was pretty hot. 

He tucked himself in bed, still wide awake. He looked at his phone, a text from you from several hours ago when you went to bed. You were probably sleeping right now. He debated responding, fearing he would wake you. But he pictures you pouting when you’d wake up in a few hours without a response from him and he couldn’t bear to make you feel that way so he typed a quick answer. 

🎀 princess #2: hope the show goes well (ik it will because you gonna kill it cause you the best😌). i lob you. you know that right? dont forget about me ok? <33333333

👸princess minki (real): i could never baby i love you more. hope you have a great day and i miss you baby <3

then for a second the three little dots appeared and Mingi thought he hallucinated it. But then an other text appeared.

🎀 princess #2: i’ll always be your first and your biggest fan

Mingi didn't even have time to reply that he received a video file. He faintly gasped at the thumbnail. It was your legs spread out on his bed. The big play button in the middle of the frame though blocked out the most interesting part and he didn’t even breathe before he played the video.

He continued to hold his breath when he saw you rub your clit throught your white panties. He didn’t know how long you did played with yourself but your panties were completely see through. Your juices were sticking to your folds, the laces barely concealing you anymore. But still, he needed these damn panties out of the way. 

He wanted to see you. His hand found his cock on instinct, immediately palming his hardening bulge. And his prayers were answered. You pushed the panties to the side uncovering the most beautiful sight Mingi had ever layed eyes on. He exhaled a long sigh when long strings of slick connected you to the thin fabric of the underwear. How bad he wanted to be there, to stuff your soaked panties into your mouth while he thrusted his thick fingers into you. How bad he wanted to feel you twitch around him. How bad he wanted to hear his name fall from your quivering lips as he brought you to your peak. He wanted you so bad.

But then you grabbed hold of something, something that emitted light… The lightiny? Mingi’s jaw hung open when he saw you bring the handle to your center, rubbing it through your folds, coating it with your juices before bringing it up to your hard clit playing with a little, prying beautiful muffled sounds out of your mouth. Just to bring the handle down again, you took a firm grip of the rounded part and pushed the handle inside your trembling core. 

“Fuck” Mingi exhaled as he started pumping his balled fist around his now fully hard cock, he kicked the covers off him just to be able to jerk himself off without resistance. 

“Nghhh” you moaned quietly as you bottomed out. “M-Mingi are you watching?” As if you could see him, Mingi nodded vigorously, qmd you gave more purpose to the coming and going of his wrist. “Keep watching me. K-keep- fuck aaaah. Keep looking at me. I’ll make myself cum for you, ok?”

“Fuck yes baby I wanna see it all.” Mingi replied in a strangled breath, his hand going to play with balls, while his other hand held the phone incredibly close to his face. if he could have he would have gone through the screen and right into you. 

You started to slowly bounce on the lightstick. You were obviously already really worked up, your pussy was clenching down on the shiny copper handle and the light was perfectly shining on your hard clit, making it obvious that you were pretty close. Red and swollen, ready to explode. Just how he liked.

So you did. In a few seconds your thighs were trembling and your movement became uneven. You started to squirt small translucent spurts, one then two.

“Fuck baby you’re so fucking hot” Mingi breathed and pumped himself faster. 

You took the copper handle out and rubbed your clit in tight and fast circles, squirting more translucent liquid and soaking the sheets. Your center quivering around nothing. You slowed down with a sigh and the video stopped.

Mingi felt like he was going to sink into eternal darkness and despair if he didn’t see more of you right now. His cock was twitching in his strong fist, his cockhead was leaking so much precum he wanted you to see him too. He wanted you to know what you did to him.

So he pressed FaceTime. It rang once, twice then you picked up. You looked disheveled and short of breath. Fuck how fucking beautiful you were. Mingi wanted to kiss you all over this pretty face of yours.

“Why do you torture me?” he said a little more whiny than anticipated. 

He was so cute with wet hair and his eyebrows meeting on his forehead. He flipped the camera to show you his swollen cock, hard, red and leaking. You bit you lip at the mouth watering sight.

“I just wanted you to remember me. That's all.” you started, your hand finding your folds once again. “Remind you I will always be your biggest fan”

“Fuck how could I forget about you? Are you insane?” he breathed out, his voice sounded strained, in pain almost. You could only imagine how worked up he was and this urgency in his tone compelled you to find a new angle to the video call. You balanced it on the covers and your wet pussy and the mess you made came into view again.

“Fuckkkk” Mingi sighed again, trying his hardest not to be too loud. San was next door and the last thing he wanted was for him to bring up his little intimate session with you tomorrow at breakfast. “You’ve made such a mess. I usually hate it but God I’d give everything to sleep in the wet spot tonight”. You saw him jerk himself off faster, his thumb spreading the precum all over his tip and dragging it down his shaft. Squeezing the head the bring out even more and repeat it again. 

“Please show me again” he didn’t intend to sound so desperate but it couldn’t be helped because he in fact was that desperate for you. “Please show me how you fuck yourself with the lightiny”

“O-okay” You brought it back and stuffed it inside your clenching little pussy with a sigh, your other hand spreading your lips apart, making sure Mingi had the first raw VIP view of the show. 

“Fuckkkk” he whined again. “You’re so fucking nasty for me, doll”

You chuckled, knowing your little scheme had worked. You knew right now he was only thinking of you. Completely pussy drunk even though he was thousands of miles away.

“I wish it was you inside me right now, Mingming”

“Fuck me too baby” he said strangling his cock tighter, more precum oozing out again. He was close judging by the way he kept on twitching in his own hand. The sight urged you to bounce harder on the handle of the lightstick, your pussy clenching around it, gliding so smoothly in and out of you while your other hand kept on abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Baby I-I’m close” he said, a certain rasp about his voice that was only giving more weight to his words. His fist was frantically moving along his cock, now mainly focussing on his tip, making the poor thing absolutely miserable: all wet and beet red, close to bursting.

“M-me too” you said,  feeling the familiar knot in the pits of your stomach approaching its rupture point. The premise of your orgasm manifested itself in the form of an other small sprut of transparent liquid “Nggghh fuck-” you gasped. “I’m c-cumming again” you whined, rubbing your clit faster, in thighter circles. You ripped the handle out of you and one big squirt came out of your abused little pussy, joining the existing mess in Mingi’s sheets. 

“Oh fuck baby” Mingi couldn’t peel his eyes of the screen. “Fuck baby me- Fuck… Me too” He watched as your thighs became weak and as your pretty little pusy gushed out more and more fluids. You were the hottest thing he’s ever seen. And he couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He let himself go. He abruptly stop stroking himself just to let the first big rope of cum sprout out of his slit and crash over his stomach. You moaned louder at the sight. He kept on stroking again, milking more delicious cum out of his twitching red cock, completely repainting his stomach with thick and white cum, grunting as his hips involuntarily thrusted upwards until it all stopped.

When he had caught his breath he approached the phone to show his stomach and scooped some of his spillage between his fingers. 

“Look what you did to me? Just cause you got a little jealous of the fans?” he chuckled.

“I did that?” you said appalled, “No you did that! Stop making me jealous and it won't happen again” He flipped the camera again and you couldn't help but to smile mindlessly at the screen. He was a complete wreck, sharp eyes half lidded, bottom lip swollen and red from being bitten and strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. This haircut made him ridiculously hot. A mischievous smirk pulled at his full lips.

“Or…” he trailed off. “I don't this stop and you make me dirty sexy videos after every show”

“Yeah” you said, sarcasm tinting your voice. “Let's see you do that! We’ll see how it goes when you came back” you challenged him. Your smile sent shivers down Mingi’s spine. He loved you but you definitely could be scary sometimes.

“You know what, I changed my mind. I'll just behave and you can reward me when I get home.”

want more? try my fic facetime ♡

SYNOPSIS. mingi has a small favor to ask you real quick.

want to be udpated when i post? join the taglist here

ateez masterlist | navigation

[mclqren]

AMERICAN MONEY ★ LOGAN SARGEANT

PAIRING ✦ logan sargeant x fem!reader

SUMMARY ✦ after a trip to the miami grand prix, and some meddling from your sister and her boyfriend, you manage to capture the attention of a certain williams driver [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

NOTES ✦ reader is british & lives in london. reader is also a uni student. the fc i've used is brooke flecca, but feel free to picture whoever you want! this fic is based off of the song American Money by BØRNS.

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liked by yoursister, oscarpiastri, and 7,441 others

yourusername flicks 📸

view all comments

user1 STUNNER

user2 such a beauty in all three oh my days

user3 PLEASE SEND ME THE LINK TO THE CAMERA!!

yourusername check your dms x

user4 WHAT A BABE.

yoursister photography credits?? 😔😔

yourusername yeah yeah whatevs

oscarpiastri and lighting credits?

yourusername shut up pastry no one cares 🗣️

user5 Y/N LOL

user6 wait why is oscar piastri in her likes...

user7 her sister has been dating him!!

user6 ahhh i see!!

user8 are you from tennessee?

yourusername ewwww rogue man in my comments GO AWAY🤺🤺

imessages ( y/n )

yourusername

( caption one: @/yoursister our comfort movie always 💗 | caption two: yup )

oscarpiastri

( can't be bothered to type out the caption sorry )

imessages ( logan )

liked by logansargeant, yoursister, and 10,211 others

tagged yoursister

yourusername WE ❤️ ICE CREAM (& miami beach)

view all comments

user10 GORGEOUS GIRLIES!!

user11 ice cream flavors 🎤

yourusername bubblegum 4 me & sherbert 4 y/s/n 😉

user12 THEY'RE BOTH GORGEOUS OH MY DAYSSS

user13 the sea looks so perfect omg

user14 they're in miami for the gp???

user15 y/s/n probably dragged y/n along with her 🤣

yourusername that's exactly what happened 😂

yourfriend AWOOGA

yourusername KISSES FROM ME AND Y/S/N 💋💋

yoursister we love miami 💘💘

liked by yourusername

logansargeant need a tour guide? 😁😁

yourusername if you're as annoying as oscar is then no thanks ❤️

logansargeant oscar pisses me off too

yourusername okay offer accepted! 😁

oscarpiastri WHAT.

yourusername YOU LITERALLY TRIED TO SELL ME??

imessages ( y/n )

yourusername

( caption one: he answered my prayers 🗣️ @/logansargeant | caption two: ladies get yourself a man who looks at you the way logan did after i said id buy him cupcakes as a thank you for taking me around miami 🥰 | caption three: lyrics of miami by will smith )

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 42,022 others

tagged yoursister, logansargeant

yourusername miami, you've been a blasttt 🎆🎆

view all comments

user16 PURPLE IS YOUR COLOURRR!!

user17 color* BUT YES!!

user18 AMERICANS BOOO IT'S COLOUR

user19 COLOR* 🦅

yourusername GUYSS it's colour.

user16 EXACTLYY

user20 the mclaren flag 🤣

yourusername she's a loyal babe @/yoursister

user21 LOGANNN??

user22 okay someone needs to find out who this girl is and why logan has been in her likes and stories.

user23 tf is this cia agent bullshit leave them be 🤣

oscarpiastri i notice you aren't dripped out in mclaren merch, y/n?

yourusername im not associated with that sorry

landonorris just say you hate me

oscarpiastri no it's me she hates

yourusername guys guys guys. no need to fight. i hate both of you EQUALLY 😊

logansargeant had the best time with you!!

yourusername can't relate actually. only stuck around for the normal fanta 🍊

logansargeant oh?

yourusername JOKES 😁

yoursister 👀👀

user24 @/yoursister YOU'RE ALL OF US RN.

imessages ( y/n )

liked by oscarpiastri, yoursister, and 54,332 others

tagged yoursister, oscarpiastri

yourusername when's he going back to his racing boooo

view all comments

user28 @/logansargeant brooo come be her other half!

user29 @/logansargeant SAVE HER NOWWW

user30 @/logansargeant chain!

user31 @/logansargeant

user32 @/logansargeant

user33 @/logansargeant

user34 @/logansargeant

user35 @/logansargeant

user36 okay but why is no one talking about how beautiful she is hellooo?? enough about a MAN let's talk about this WOMAN.

user37 RIGHTT??

yoursister y/n i think you broke the internet

yourusername whoops???

oscarpiastri 10k likes and i'll make logan call y/n 🥰

oscarpiastri I DIDN'T THINK IT'D ACTUALLY GET 10K LIKES WHAT??

user38 so when's logan calling y/n??

oscarpiastri coming soon 👊

liked by yoursister, logansargeant, and 42,111 others

yourusername how come every time you come around 🗣️

view all comments

user42 MY LONDON LONDON BRIDGE WANNA GO DOWN

user43 absolutely iconic

user44 SHE'S IN THE UK??

yourusername baby i live here haha ❤️

user45 YOU'RE SO FERGALICIOUSSS

user46 it's giving absolutely everything it needed to give

user47 no logan???

user48 im sure y/n and logan will meet up again soon, they just have very busy lives, what with y/n just finishing her final year at uni & logan being a literal f1 driver

yoursister so did my invite get lost in the post or

yourusername idk, it wasn't me who was busy in austria with her boyfriend so!

oscarpiastri why am i always brought into these conversations

yourusername because i hate you

imessages ( y/n )

liked by yoursister, logansargeant, and 56,331 others

tagged logansargeant

yourusername a doggie, a logie and spaghetti 😝

view all comments

user51 SHE CALLED HIM LOGIEEE IM WEAK IN THE KNEES

user52 CUTIES FR

user53 THE DOG AWWW

user54 they match together so perfectly

user55 omg y/nlogan CONFIRMEDDD!!

user56 this post is everything to me and more

yoursister is this your definition of a soft launch

yourusername boo the internet already caught us basically making out at silverstone what's the difference

user57 Y/S/N HAHAHA

oscarpiastri i won't say i had a part in this buttt...

yourusername thanks for trying to sell me oscar.

oscarpiastri no problem!

lilymhe ANOTHER FEMALE IN THE WILLIAMS PADDOCK 🔥🔥

yourusername when you leave alex for me should i pretend to be shocked

lilymhe well, yes

logansargeant @/alex_albon oh dear

alex_albon this was always going to happen. we should've prepared in advance 😔

logansargeant ❤️❤️

liked by yourusername

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 98,781 others

tagged yourusername

yourusername officially dating a uni graduate 🥳🥳 couldn't be prouder ❤️

view all comments

user58 felt her aura from ten scrolls away WOW

user59 RIGHT? she IS the moment

user60 slide 2 🥺

user61 petition for y/n and logan to become dog parents

yourusername @/logansargeant please please please

logansargeant i'll consider it

yourusername a win is a win 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

user62 she's suchhh a babe omg

user63 they're too cute together

yoursister treat her good, sargeant.

logansargeant will do ma'am 🫡

yourusername logan she's younger than you?? and also im allowed to do this spiel with you, not the other way around?!

yoursister he's the new boyfriend now, not oscar 🤷‍♀️

yourusername LOGAN THAT SLIP OF ME EWWWW DELETE DELETE

logansargeant you look beautiful either way ❤️

oscarpiastri ewww ruining my feed delete these comments please

yourusername don't be fooled guys, im only dating him for that american money 🥳

logansargeant she's kidding.

yourusername being a uni student is expensive to be fair

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TAGS ✦ @theblueblub ; @littlegrapejuice ; @tribbisweetdear; @chaostudee ; @writingisbetterthandying ; @dannyleclerc

[softspiderling]

picture of you in an invisible locket | j.v

summary:

“It is not my father who is against the match.”

“What?”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened in surprise at the implication, and you sighed quietly. You weren’t planning on telling him, knowing it would hurt his feelings greatly, but did you have any other choice?

“You say you have a deep affection for me, and then say that you’re against a match,” Jacaerys said, his brows knitted in confusion.

OR; loving jacaerys velayron means more than loving just him, something that you are painfully aware of

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: none :)

word count: 2,5k

author's note: my first jacaerys fic! ngl it was super hard to jump from obx to hotd bc i wanted my writing to feel authentic to the fandom/show??? yeah obx and hotd could NOT be any more different tbf. i have a bunch of ideas for jace but if you want you can send me some requests! also tagging @zyafics and @sunderlust bc they've been encouraging me to write for jace ily guys. happy reading and pls leave some feedback/comments/nice words!!! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The light of the torches were flickering as you walked down the hallway, your shoes clicking against the marble stones that lined the ground. It was nearly midnight and a lady of your rank shouldn’t be awake at this hour, much less out of her chambers by herself, roaming the halls.

But you were hungry.

You hadn’t had much to eat during dinner, trying to avoid him as much as possible, which is getting increasingly more difficult. Usually, he wasn’t so persistent, opting to stay close to your father during dinner, exchanging information about their culture, or drinking with your brother. Tonight, however, it seemed like he was on quest to find you whenever you were standing idly by, asking for a dance. And of course, you couldn’t decline for no reason, as it would appear rude or even slight, so you busied yourself with other - much less distracting - dance partners. By the time he was approached by one of your guards, inquiring about his training, and you saw your chance to sit down and eat in peace, the table had been cleared for the last course. While you did love cake, your hunger couldn’t be stilled by a mere dessert and you spent the remainder of the night famished, longing for some hearty food.

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled of hunger again, and you picked up the skirt of your night dress, hastening along to the kitchen. When you finally reached the stair case that led down to the kitchens, you hurried down the steps, letting yourself into the kitchen, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind you.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you headed to the pantry, searching for bread and butter and if you were lucky, some smoked ham. You were so focused on your search, you didn’t even notice another presence lingering in the doorway of the pantry.

You heart nearly stopped when you finally did see him, your gasp echoing in the empty kitchen.

“Prince Jacaerys!”

The crown prince of the Seven Realms was standing in front of you, arms behind his back and brows raised. You forced your heartbeat so calm down, hand still clutching your chest.

“You gave me a fright,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

“I have been waiting for your arrival. You took quite some time, I was certain you would be here an hour past.”

Your eyes narrowed in slits, growing wary at his words. “And how did you know that I would come to the kitchens at this hour? I do not make it a habit to skulk around the keep at night.”

Jacaerys chuckled dryly, his beautiful dark curls bouncing as he shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“Given how you occupied the dance floor with various dance partners earlier, I did not see you sit down for supper once. You were certain to still your hunger somewhere.”

So he did notice.

You acted nonchalant, turning away from him eyes searching shelves in the pantry.

“Searching for this?”

Jacaerys brought a loaf of bread from behind his back, wrapped in a cloth. Your eyes gleamed, taking a step forward to reach for it, nearly bumping into him as he took a step forward as well, breaching into your personal space. Your heart stopped, feeling his hot breath fanning on your cheeks and the prince’s lips tugged into a grin.

“Ah ah,” he tutted, moving the bread out of your reach. “You do not expect me to give this away without a price now, do you my lady?”

You took a moment’s pause, considering his words with caution.

“… What sort of price do you speak of?”

“How about…” Jacaerys begun. “A kiss?”

With a small breath, you faltered, looking up at him through your lashes, your shoulders slumping.

“Jace.”

“Ah, now we are back to Jace?”

Snatching the small piece of ham and the butter that sat in a small marble bell from the shelves, you walk back into the kitchen, knowing Jacaerys would follow you. Making a stop at the counter, you spread your findings on it, waiting until Jacaerys stopped next you, loaf of bread still in his hand.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not.”

“You danced with every single man at your brother’s name day celebration except for me,” Jacaerys pointed out. You shrugged with your shoulders, an act you would never do in front of other people, but this was Jace.

“I was merely being a good host.”

“Don’t insult me, my lady. I saw your grimace when Lord Ren twirled you over the dance floor while stepping all over your feet with his barbaric dance moves.”

Seven hells, he got you there. You never were able to keep your real feelings hidden when it came to Lord Ren. He was just too insufferable. Pursing your lips, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were still a lady after all, you had some manners.

“Will you give me the bread when I admit you’re right?”

“I should not,” Jacaerys sniffed. “Because I know I am right, I do not need a confession. I just want to know your reasons.”

With a huff, you snatched the loaf of bread out of his hands, reaching for knife in the wooden block. You cut out several slices, maybe with more force than necessary.

“You know my reasons.”

Jacaery is quiet next to you and you dropped the knife on the counter, wrapping the rest of the loaf up again. You can still feel his gaze on you as you spread the butter on the bread slices, knowing he was waiting for you to elaborate, and after a few more moments, you broke, the knife clattering against the wooden surface.

“Jace, you know I… Have a deep affection for you.”

“As do I for you.”

The two of you both skirted around the big word, not quite bold enough to say it yet.

“I do not wish to give my father the expectation to marry me off to you.”

“I’m the crown prince, surely your father would not have any grievances against a match.”

“It is not my father who is against the match.”

“What?”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened in surprise at the implication, and you sighed quietly. You weren’t planning on telling him, knowing it would hurt his feelings greatly, but did you have any other choice?

“You say you have a deep affection for me, and then say that you’re against a match,” Jacaerys said, his brows knitted in confusion. “I don’t understand. Isn’t a match born out of affection and not duty what you have been wanting?”

“Jace, this is more complicated than me harboring any affections for you-” you started, but your words were cut shot by Jacaerys speaking your name.

“If it’s about leaving home, I promise King’s Landing is not as bad as it seems. And on dragonback, it is only a three day journey. When I first left, I got terribly homesick as well, but-“

“I do not wish to be Queen!” you exploded, falling into Jacaerys’ words and he took a step back at your outburst, surprise flickering over his face. You let out a long, deep, breath, hand clutching at your chest, calming yourself down.

The kitchen is eerily calm, neither of you spoke, the only sound is the fire crackling in the hearth. Your voice is quiet when you finally spoke again.

“I am the youngest child of my father, Jace. His only daughter. My oldest brother is betrothed and to be wed in less than a year’s time, the second oldest is courting his partner to be betrothed. I was not trained to rule, to have any responsibility or to represent my house. You are the crown prince, set to inherit the Iron Throne, to rule over seven kingdoms. Seven, Jace. How exactly do you expect me to fulfill the role of a Queen consort?”

Jacaerys’ mouth was parted, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Which you understood. You have never shared your feelings about his position as heir before, how you resented it a little for it was the only reason you couldn’t let yourself be matched with him.

“I’m not fit to be Queen.”

“I… Didn’t know that you felt this way,” he said, his voice tight. “I can’t shirk my duties.”

“And I am not asking you to,” you assured him. “I just can’t… Be the wife you need.”

“What if-”

“Jacaerys, please.”

Your voice was pleading, knowing discussing this any further was no use. You weren’t fit for a Queen. Jacaerys’ face shut down, and he put his mask up, before nodding, ever the understanding prince, much to your luck. “Of course. Whatever you wish for, my love.”

His love.

“I will see you on the morrow.”

Reaching for your hand, he grasped it gently with his, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before stepping back, letting go of you. As he departed from the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, your breath shaky. You knew you hurt him, disappointed him, but this was so much bigger than the two of you.

You breathed out deeply, hoping the sorrow would leave, but it didn’t. Reaching for the bread, your appetite had gone, but leaving it would be wasting it, so you bit into your dinner. And as you ate, you couldn’t help but think that the bread tasted like ashes in your mouth.

The next few days, Jacaerys seemed to respect your wishes to keep his distance. You still saw him around the keep, occasionally walking with your father, mostly though you saw him accompanying your brother as they conversed quietly, but intently. You wondered what they were talking about. Whenever you saw him, you noticed that Jacaerys kept his gaze away from took, and you couldn’t help but feel saddened, even though this was what you asked him for in the first place.

You missed his company. Especially at night. Despite the fact that you had never crossed any lines, or did anything improper - spending the dark hours at the library talking, exchanging stories about your childhood, maybe coming very close to a kiss - you were still a maiden. Of course you spending time with him alone was unseemly, and your father would betroth you immediately would he find out. It might be better for you, that Jacaerys kept away.

It was the end of the week when you saw him again. You were sat in the dining hall, at another feast your father had called for. It was the night of the departure of the representatives of House Blackwood, though even if it weren’t, you didn’t doubt that there would still be a feast. Your father didn’t need an occasion celebrate.

Your demeanor was polite, bht curt, hoping that it would deter any lords from asking for a dance, but of course Lord Ren was keen on offering you his hand.

Giving him a polite smile, you let him lead you around the dance floor, already forming some sort of excuse in your head when someone stepped to you, offering you his hand.

It was Jacaerys.

“May I, Lord Ren?”

“Of course, my prince.”

Lord Ren bowed to Jacaerys and you bowed your head out of respect before Jacaery placed a hand on your waist, his other finding your hand. You couldn’t help but feel relief that Jacaerys had freed you from Lord Ren, but you tried to keep your composure.

“I thought we talked about this, Jacaerys,” you muttered out between gritted teeth, as to uphold the image of a happy lady, dancing with her guest.

“We have.”

Jacaerys replied easily, never missing a step as he spoke, despite keeping his eyes on you. Ever the perfect prince.

You turned away, not being able to hold his eyes on you, your stomach churning.

“I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, Jace,” you said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear you talking to the crown prince in such a familiar way. “I wish things were different- That I was different.”

Jacaerys’ hand tightened on your waist, and he used that to pull you closer.

“I spoke to your father, and he gave his blessing for our betrothal.”

Your eyes widened at his words, as you hadn’t expected them, the shock evident on your face. You had told him about your fears of being Queen consort and he just disregarded them.

“What?”

“I know you’re afraid that you won’t be able to fulfill your duties as Queen, my Queen consort. My mother will teach you, I will be by your side. My mother is set to live a long life and by the time I will inherit the throne, you will be properly trained. And I swear on my life, you will make the best Queen consort the realm will ever see.”

Stunned, you blinked your eyes at him, as if this all was a dream. Never before had you experience someone being so stubborn to prove you of your own worth.

“It hurt me greatly when you told of your reluctance of our match, because I cannot fathom that you see yourself anything less than you are.”

As he spoke, Jacaerys kept his gaze ahead, but he finally he turned to look at you, his eyes softening.

“I will not force you. This is your choice. If you do not wish to marry me, you won’t have to. Just know that I believe in you and what you will be able to do as Queen consort.”

You were trying so hard to find the right words, your feet stopped working for a second and you stumbled, but Jacaerys was quick to tighten his grip around you, keeping you upright.

“I- don’t know what to say,” you admitted.

“Say yes?”

Jacaerys looked down at you, his eyes hopeful and you felt your resolve melt away, especially because it looked he had planned it down to the last detail.

“Yes, okay.”

Jacaerys smiled at you before turning to the side, giving a curt nod and that was all it took for your father thrust his jug into the air, the ale spilling over the rim.

“I am thrilled to announce that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen of the Seven Realms, has asked my daughter for her hand in marriage… And she has accepted!”

The raucuos cheers that followed after nearly deafened your ears and you hid your face in Jacaerys’ chest - an act of affection you allowed yourself now that the two of you were betrothed.

“This couldn’t wait until we were in closed chambers?” you whispered, pink tinging your cheeks. Jacaerys shook his head, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles.

“There’s no backing out of it now, my love.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: thoughts?? :)

[choerypetal]

Hide and Seek / Homelander

(pt 2. of Meet and Greet)

summary ; In part two of the meet and greet, Homelander's obsession reaches new heights, leaving him unsatisfied at his core and willing to do anything to make you his.

!! read part one first! ; !!

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes, xo' (as it will be eventually corrected if needed)

tag list; @private-eye-on-you ; @lins-shenanigans ; @horrorxgorewhore @siredtom ; @certain-tragedies ; @hotchners-wifey ; @naelis-open-sea

enjoy xo'

Homelander's comment, 'You look lovely in the costume,' lingered in your mind for a week. You couldn't escape his presence. His silhouette, his maddeningly perfect face seemed to follow you everywhere—from your usual coffee shop to the special limited editions of The Vought, and even as you continued watching the show for longer periods of time. From Deep's special cupcakes to the coffee most loved by Homelander, his influence was everywhere, not just keeping the city alive but himself as well.

Although you didn't realize it, Homelander had become just as obsessed with you as he was with seeing his own face on the cup you were holding. From a distance, he watched your every move—the way your plump lips touched the cup, how you drank your coffee, and even how you covered his image with your hand. Despite finding your behavior an offense, he knew he’d eventually have to tease about it. The sadistic man that he was, wasn’t afraid to even acknowledge it. Especially during their weekly Seven meetings. 

"So, I suggest we review some new recruits," Ashley said, her nervousness palpable. She wanted to please not only the public but, most importantly, Homelander. This was no easy task given recent events and the current situation. Homelander's obvious boredom showed his lack of interest, and Deep, poor thing, was just as disinterested, staring blankly at the screen and agreeing with whatever Homelander mumbled. However, Deep was secretly relieved not to have any of John’s powers. Especially right now. Because, at that exact moment, it was your face, and your face alone, that occupied his thoughts. Murmuring your name under his breath, he was fortunate not to get caught up in the moment. That of course, when a single cough from Ashley’s mouth was enough to slip his mind elsewhere. 

"You know, Ashley, just pick whoever you think will fit for now. Sign their papers. My brain is going to fucking explode from this hell hole," he said, standing up without even glancing at her. Not even Ashley's whiny complaints about the complications it might cause could stop him. He paused, considering for a moment that she might convince him. "Don't come to me for the next 24 hours," he snapped, his piercing blue eyes conveying a clear threat. When wasn't he a threat, anyway? "Or I'll personally fuck up every single one of you." That was enough to make her quickly nod in response. Poor thing, she only wanted to make him proud. A satisfied grin played on his lips, mirrored by Ashley's, though hers was a little more nervous. His, however, was genuine. 

You, on the other hand, had been fortunate enough not to see Homelander's face for a while. From the bookstore you frequented to the coffee shop, his presence seemed to pervade your life. Your mother didn’t help either, as she insisted on framing a picture of you with him in the living room—a gesture Homelander found endearing. On some nights, he would see you through the window, dressed in your pajamas, reading whatever caught your interest, with that picture always in the background. Unlike Homelander, it haunted your dreams.  

Deep down, Homelander struggled to resist the urge to invade your personal space, not wanting to frighten you. However, when he saw your forced smile at the meet and greet, he was reminded that a smile meant nothing to him. To him and you alone. It was your scent that drove him wild. At first, he considered going undercover, posing as one of your father’s coworkers, but he realized it would be futile. Why cover his own shame, when he could let his ego take it over?

So, he waited until sunrise. When he could finally entered your room, imagining you in your shortest pajamas, which hugged your curves so perfectly, he had to bite his bottom lip to control himself. Just by the thought of his fingers sinking into your flesh as you leaned toward him for more...

"Goodbye, Mom!" Your voice echoed in Homelander's mind as he realized he'd been lurking around your house since last night. He had been trying to dismiss, the missed call records provided by Ashley, however, unable to ignore them. Fortunately, he was hidden well enough that you didn’t notice him as you exited the house.

Your hair meticulously washed, your skin fresh with makeup, and that dress. Never in a thousand years, aside from his own enemies, did Homelander think he would become so obsessed with someone. He wanted to chuckle to himself at the irony, knowing he wasn’t being the most subtle superhero. When your gaze shifted toward his hiding spot, he quickly concealed himself behind a tree, exhaling in relief when you shrugged off the feeling of being watched. You then left for work, something Homelander knew all too well. This also meant he could meet your mother, who, after all, was his biggest fan. 

Fortunately, you managed to get through the day without a single client yelling at you. However, what you didn’t expect was an unexpected visit from the man himself. As you approached the door, you overheard some mumbling. Did your mother have a visitor today? 

And then it hit you.

Hearing the all-too-familiar voice say, "Oh, these look lovely," with a genuine smile, you froze in your tracks. Seeing your mother so happy, even more thrilled than a fangirl, like she’d seen god himself. She noticed you immediately. "My dear! Look who came to visit," she exclaimed, taking you into her arms for a hug. Before you could greet the guest, your eyes met his—Homelander, in your own home. 

"No need for theatrics, ma’am," he said with a casual chuckle, hushed by his own hand as he munched on the cookies your mother had made, casually wiping a droplet of milk with his thumb. Your mother giggled and said, "Mother is the name. We don’t have to get formal, right darling?" You blinked twice, hardly believing what you were hearing. Your mother was genuinely making Homelander feel comfortable, right inside your home. Given what you knew from your coworkers and the constant rumors, it was hard not to be creeped out by the thought that he might have done more than just a knock on the door that evening. Yet, you shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps playing the same game he did might be what he wanted after all. Like a cat and a mouse. 

There was a brief pause, then an idea sparked in your mother’s eyes as she looked at John one last time. "Why don’t you stay for dinner? Tonight is roasted chicken and mashed potatoes." How could he refuse? Spending more time with you was just the beginning of his obsession with protecting you and never letting you out of his sight. He smiled, his grin seemingly bigger than before, and nodded. "If Y/N doesn’t mind?" he said, his gaze shifting to you with a more serious expression. You gulped nervously, knowing you couldn’t just say no. "Yes—yes, of course," you stuttered. Oh, how adorable you looked.

“Then, make yourself at home dear.” 

Dinner was only just a few hours from now, with your father now back from work had asked for a personal photo with the Homelander, and a talk John appreciated more. Considering his own father exiling him completely, it was a breath of fresh air for him, especially when he’d be glancing a few times at you, doing whatever you had in mind before the dinner. “My daughter is going to be working for us,” your father would be saying proudly, Homelander could only nod listening actively. “She’d do a great addition I am certain.” his gaze now meeting yours immediately, when you gaze up from your book, he could notice a light shade of pink coming your cheeks. Cherishing it a little too much when your father’s voice then abrupt his mind, “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he’d said a little too proud. 

She is indeed… Homelander thought to himself that same night. Just by how attentive he was with you. Even if it wasn’t  much of a conversation shared, the glances were enough to please him alone. Which during the dinner, he was not afraid to show. 

Dinner had passed rather quickly, you were glad it did. Considering you listening to whatever nonsense Homelander had to offer to keep your mother so relonctent toward him. Let alone, praise him as a her own god. Boosting an ego, to whom you couldn’t comprehend yourself, and that Homelander was sure to make it seem tonight. 

"Thank you so much for dinner, truly," Homelander said, wiping the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving you. Your mother’s gasp was enough to momentarily distract him, and he asked if everything was alright. She quickly assured him it was and invited him to stay until her cake was done baking. Naturally, John didn't decline the offer. "Y/N," your mother called your attention just as you were about to excuse yourself, "how about you give a little tour of the house? I'm sure Homelander would appreciate it." The formality of his name seemed daunting, but John quickly corrected her. "John it is. No need to be formal, now, do we?" A shiver crawled down your spine as your mother’s eyes gleamed with hope, her slender fingers clapping together. "Oh, well, of course! Now, Y/N, make yourself useful and make John feel at home." 

A sigh escaped your lips; there was no way to avoid this, was there? "Yes, of course. Where do you want to start?" Your eyes never left his, feeling yourself getting lost in them, becoming his little mouse to play with. "How about..." he began, his eyes wandering as if he couldn’t be bothered to think. "The bedroom," he finally said. You blinked twice, a third time to fully process his words. "What?" you replied, incredulous. He chuckled, amused by your reaction, and shrugged off the question as if he hadn’t meant it seriously. "Nah, kidding. Lead the way," he said. 

So you did. You felt his shadow hovering over you as you both walked through the house for a little tour. John was no longer hiding his presence, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his breath. By the time you reached your bedroom, the tour was complete, and your mother’s cake would be ready. However, John had something else in mind, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. “And this is the bedroom,” you said nonchalantly, hearing an obvious scoff from him. 

"Funny, isn’t it?" he said, this time his tone serious enough to make your muscles tense. His back was to you as his fingers touched the doorknob, ready to close the door. And he did, pausing momentarily. "Finally, we meet again." His remark made you tilt your head. Meet again? As far as you knew, he had been stalking you all along. But knowing who he was—Homelander, with his omniscience and twisted games—you had no say in the matter. Neither did you, especially after hearing his chuckle. 

“Now why so quiet?” the question was enough to make you unsease. You wanted to tell him, to oppose to him. But you couldn’t he was now yours to torment completely. When he leaned further, scoffing once more by your vulnerability. In that precise moment, Homelander knew he won. 

“Heard you were a good, fuck.” his voice so nonchanltly, a gasp leaving from your mouth as you were unable to speak more than standing right in front of him. How his eyes would wondered around your figure, approaching near to you, his fingers now leaning toward your waist. Gripping by its touch, hungry to fuck you there, in the bed. Raw. 

"Thank you?" you stammered, eager to please him. His grin broadened, fighting not to turn into a frown at your response. He was so satisfied that he gently caressed your cheek with his other finger. "You need me, not just to save you, but to satisfy you." Though your heart was broken, you were a toy Homelander cherished without fear. You were his perfect little toy, as he began to lick his bottom lip, his breath drawing closer, closing the gap between you. "Mine," he growled, his voice hoarse, undeniably hinting at his intentions. He was Homelander, able to do whatever he wanted. And that included you being his. "Got it, little mouse?"

Oh, how he longed to watch you squirm between his legs, begging for more, moaning his name. His persistence knew no bounds; he would do anything—from leaving bite marks to scratches, and even hickeys if necessary. But he couldn't just stand there without having a little fun, right?

"You see," he said, his voice dripping with teasing malice. Disgust welled up in your mouth, but you fought the urge to look away. He loved watching you squirm, the fear in your eyes fueling his twisted envy of every inch of you. "How about we play a little game tonight, hmm?" His thumb brushed gently over your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

"W-what game?" you managed to say, breaking your long silence. Even he was momentarily surprised, but your stutter made it worth it. "Hide and seek," he said, pausing for effect. "You hide, and I seek. If I find you, you're mine. Got that?"

You gave a quick nod, followed by a satisfied smile from him. "Good then, I'll start counting. One, two..." You hesitated for a moment, just as his grip shifted from your waist to your arm, preventing you from fleeing your own home. When your eyes met his, they were dark with passion, lust, and a desire to capture his little mouse until its very last breath. "Run..."

Little mouse.”

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Like a Moth to a Flame

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Logan Howlett is a dangerous man; at least, that's what he wants you to think when he first meets you during your shift at Lucky's. However, he only seems to prove the opposite as he becomes a more constant presence in your life. After learning his true identity in a dark back alley, he's certain you want nothing to do with him. But against your better judgment, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pairing: Lumberjack!Logan Howlett x Bartender!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, men being creepy in an alley, canon divergent (because fuck the timelines), mutual pining, miscommunication

Word Count: 3.4K

Author’s Note: I am overwhelmed with the love and support for my first Logan fic. This man has taken over my ever waking thought. I wrote this while picturing lumberjack Logan from X-Men Origins: Wolverine and listening to Hozier (this man is so "Too Sweet" and "NFWMB" coded). Super proud of how this turned out, hope you enjoy it.

You’re used to a rough-and-tumble, rough-around-the-edges kind of crowd — blue-collar workers, committed hunters, down-on-their-luck drifters. Maybe that’s why you don’t think twice when he enters the tiny dive bar. He’s clad in a deep maroon flannel tucked into a tattered pair of jeans. You don’t even look in his direction as he sidles into a seat at the end of the bar. He looks like any other patron you’ve met while bartending at Lucky’s. 

“Hey there, what can I get for you?”

He leans forward, forearms flexing against the counter. A shiver runs down your spine as your eyes linger on the deep scars etched in between his knuckles before traveling up his broad frame. It’s as if your fight or flight response kicks in, and suddenly, a voice in your head tells you to run. But as you finally meet his hazel eyes, you freeze. There’s a hollowness in how he looks at you — a profound sadness that makes your heart ache for the man sitting before you.

“Whiskey, neat.”

You simply nod at his request before turning to pour him a glass. As you place the drink before him, a flash of metal across his chest grabs your attention. The man follows your gaze, and his features harden at the realization of what caught your interest. He quickly shoves the dog tags hanging loosely around his neck under his shirt — out of your line of sight. Your cheeks instantly flush, humiliation washing over your body. You begin to apologize, but the man downs his glass of whiskey and slaps some cash on the table.

“Thanks for the drink.”

With that, he grabs his leather jacket off the back of his chair and stalks out of the bar. You watch him leave in stunned silence. You hadn’t meant to invade his privacy in any way. You’re used to the anonymity that some men around here need to survive — hell, you don’t even know the names of some of your regulars. Before you can get swallowed up by embarrassment, one of your other patrons calls for another drink. Shaking off your previous interaction, you return your attention to your job.

After work, you couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter. With a deep sigh, you pour yourself a drink and collapse into your couch. You don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about it. In reality, you probably won’t ever see the man again, which should relieve you; however, the thought only disappoints you.

To your surprise, he walks back into the bar three days later during your shift. You try to ignore his presence as he moves to sit at the same spot at the end of the bar. To make amends, you pour a glass of whiskey and set it in front of him.

“This one’s on the house.”

The man looks up, giving you a confused expression. He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off.

“Don’t. It’s just an apology for the other night.”

He gives you a nod before grabbing the glass and taking a long drink. You turn away from him, but his deep voice cuts through the rowdy Friday night crowd before you can take a step.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I still expect a tip, though.”

A chuckle reverberates in his chest. The sound of it causes your face to light up. The man’s lips pull up into a small, gentle smile. You force yourself to return to work before you get further drawn into him. Unlike the other night, he sits at the bar for the rest of your shift, ordering several glasses of whiskey and keeping his eyes trained on the television above your head.

“It’s the end of my shift. Ready to close out with me?”

Logan nods, downing the rest of his whiskey and then placing several bills on the counter.

“Keep the change.”

“Wow, thank you…” 

You trail off, realizing you still haven’t learned his name. Looking down at the money he placed before you, you notice he’s tipped you at least fifty percent. You don’t want to invade his privacy again, but a part of you wishes you knew his name so that you could thank him properly.

“Logan.”

“Thank you, Logan.”

He stands up from his seat before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“You working tomorrow?”

You bite your lip at his words, trying to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. Trying to ground yourself back into reality, you remind yourself that you don’t fraternize with your clientele. While working at Lucky’s, you’ve learned one thing about the men who frequent the establishment — they’re bad news. But then you look back up at him. He’s got to be over six feet tall; his simple white t-shirt accentuates just how broad his body is, and yet this sturdy, well-built man looks almost nervous standing before you. Your body responds before your brain can catch up.

“My shift starts at 6:00.”

Logan slides his leather jacket on, and a slight smirk spreads across his features. He’s a devastatingly handsome man, and you’re no better than a moth to a flame — irresistibly attracted to that which you know will hurt you. 

“See you then.”

And you do see him during your shift the next day, and your shift after that, and the one after that. Logan’s there in his seat at the end of the bar during all of your shifts, ordering whiskeys and making polite conversation until he’s become a constant presence in your life. 

Today is no different. You have a glass of whiskey ready for Logan when he enters the bar. His schedule with the town’s logging company is pretty consistent. Logan accepts the glass graciously as you slide it in front of him. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You ignore how nonchalantly the term of endearment slips past his lips — and how your heart lurches as he says it. Instead, you focus on his features, which somehow look more exhausted than usual today. His work is hard, long, and labor-intensive; however, throughout your conversations with the hardened lumberjack, you’ve also learned that Logan’s sleep schedule is abysmal.  He’s a grown man; he can decide what he wants to do — or doesn’t want to do — but a part of you can’t help but want to care for him.

“You gotta get some sleep, Logan.”

He scoffs in response, looking up at you with tired eyes. You know he isn’t angry at your suggestion, but the pointed look he gives you is a warning. He’s opened up quite a bit throughout his frequent visits to the bar, but there is still an air of mystery about the man sitting before you. You know better than to push him, so you raise your hands defeatedly.

“All I’m saying is that those dark circles do nothing for that handsome face.”

A warm laugh reverberates in Logan’s chest. He takes a long drink from his glass before responding, downing a considerable amount of whiskey with absolutely no reaction.

“You think I’m handsome?”

You roll your eyes at the man, trying to keep your cool. Logan is an enigma to you — simultaneously socially awkward and overly flirtatious. It’s as if he has two personalities — two completely different sides of himself — fighting for dominance at all times. And yet, it works because he’s catastrophically charming. 

“Shut up.”

A smug smirk spreads across Logan’s face, and you decide it’s getting a little too stuffy in the small dive bar. You grab the pack of cigarettes you keep stashed under the bar and turn back to Logan. He already knows what you’re about to ask. It’s become routine for Logan to join you during your fifteen-minute break, sharing cigarettes in the secluded alley behind the bar.

“I’m going for a smoke. You coming?”

“Let me finish my drink. I’ll be right out.”

You nod at him before moving towards the back door. As you step out into the alley, you’re met with a much-appreciated, cool breeze. It causes a shiver to run down your spine as your body adjusts to the sudden difference in temperature. After placing a cigarette between your lips, you pull a small silver lighter out of your back pocket. You slide your thumb over the engraving on the side: L.H. Logan had given you the lighter after yours burnt out about a month ago. You tried to give it back, but he insisted you keep it. You bring the lighter up to your face, but a voice surprises you before you can light your cigarette. 

“Those things’ll kill you, sweetheart.”

A man you’ve never seen before emerges from the darkness and approaches you with an uncomfortable air of familiarity. The way this man says Logan’s term of endearment makes you sick to your stomach. It sounds sweet coming from Logan’s lips — grounded in a deep respect and laced with affection. 

You were simply going to ignore him, knowing Logan’s presence would deter him in a matter of minutes; however, your body bristles as two more figures join him from the darkness of the alley. Your body moves on its own accord, seeking the comfort and safety of the bar — of Logan. But the man closest to you grabs your arm before you can step out of their reach.

“Where you going, sweetheart? The party’s out here.”

His voice is sickly sweet and dripping with venom — a stark contrast to Logan’s low, warm timbre. The two men behind him laugh at his words. Your fight or flight response kicks in, and you struggle against the man’s hold as you’re hit with the gravity of your situation.

“Just let me go.”

Your voice is stern as you rip your arm away from the man’s grip. You rush to get away, but he’s quicker. He places both hands on the brick wall behind you, caging you in. Now you’re panicking. A threatening growl interrupts the encounter before the man in front of you can say anything else, and Logan emerges from the darkness. His features are menacing in the dim light of the alley, but you’re met with a sense of relief rather than fear.

“You heard her. Let her go.”

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck raise at the sound of his voice; however, the stranger in front of you doesn’t seem to find him as frightening. Instead of backing down, the man lets out a dry, unamused laugh at Logan’s words.

“We’re just having some fun here.”

Bile rises in your throat at the insinuation in his tone. Logan seems equally displeased by his response as another animalistic growl rips through his body. He takes an intimidating step forward before speaking.

“You don’t want to do this, bub.”

It’s almost as if he’s pleading with them — begging them to stop so that he doesn’t have to act first. Your eyes find those dog tags hanging around his neck again. Your heart breaks as you realize Logan doesn’t want to fight, but he will — for you. Based on the look in his eyes, he’ll rip these men apart limb from limb if they lay a hand on you. 

“No, buddy, you don’t want to do this. You’re outnumbered — three to one. You don’t stand a chance.”

The man’s tone is amused but impatient. He’s itching for Logan to either leave them be or throw the first punch, but he does neither. Instead, Logan squares his shoulders and extends his arms out at his sides.

“You sure about that?”

Your brow furrows at an unfamiliar sound — a strange, metallic snikt. You’re surprised when the man’s arms fall from either side of your shoulders. You take the opportunity to create distance between yourself and the group of men who are all staring at Logan. Not understanding what caused their sudden hesitation, you also look over at Logan. Your body tenses at the sight of him standing in the middle of the alley with long, metal claws protruding from his fists. He takes another step forward, and the men scatter, running for their lives. 

Logan waits a few moments, ensuring that the men are actually gone. Then he lets out a deep sigh as his metal claws retract back into his hands. Your hands meet the cool brick behind you, grounding you in this incredibly unreal moment. You blink, expecting to wake up from whatever dream you’re having right now — but you’re not dreaming.

Logan finally turns to face you, and his features soften. His eyes scan your body, checking you over for injuries. He takes a step toward you but stops as you take a step toward the bar's back door. You can’t seem to look away from his hands — at those deep, pronounced scars between his knuckles. His eyes follow yours, and you’re met with instant regret as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You finally look up at his face and are anguished at the sight of his hardened features.

You want to tell him a million things. Your body moved on its own accord. You didn’t mean to stare at his scars. You’re just confused. You’re grateful for his help. You’re not afraid of him.

But you don’t mutter a single word. It’s as if you’re frozen in place. 

“Alright.”

Your heart almost breaks in two at the pained sound of his voice. Logan meets your eyes one last time, disappointment evident in his gaze. Finally, your body shakes out of its paralysis, but it’s too late — the damage has already been done. You watch helplessly as he begins walking away from you. 

“Logan, wait.”

But he doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking until he vanishes into the darkness. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks as you slide down against the brick wall — partly because of what could have happened and partly because of what did happen. And just like the first day you met Logan, you fear you may never see him again. 

But once again, you were wrong. 

Eight unbearably long days later, Logan enters Lucky’s again. You watch his bated breath as he approaches, hoping he’ll sit at his usual spot at the end of the bar. Instead, Logan places a few bills on the counter before meeting your gaze. You draw in a shaky breath as you look into his hazel eyes — the hollowness is back, and our heart aches as you realize you’re now the reason behind that sadness. 

“Didn’t feel right not closing out last time.”

You almost laugh at his words — the free glass of whiskey was the last thing on your mind. He rolls his shoulders back nervously, his muscles flexing under his black t-shirt. You reach out and grab his hand before he can pull it away from the counter. His eyes instantly widen, but the physical contact seems to make him relax ever so slightly.

“Can we talk, please?”

Your hand tightens around his, physically begging him to just stay. Logan nods in silent agreement. You pull your hand away from his and try to push down the sudden disappointment caused by the loss of his touch. You move toward the back door, and Logan follows you into the alley from a safe distance. For a moment, you’re lost in a bout of deja vu as you lean against the brick wall, and Logan stands before you. Your hands nervously find Logan’s lighter in your pocket, looking for something to occupy yourself with. The movement catches Logan’s eyes, and you swear the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile at the sight of his lighter in your hands. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words tumble out of you clumsily. Logan’s brow furrows, and you watch as his head tilts slightly to the side. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

Logan’s lips pull into a small frown as he considers your apology. He takes a cautious step forward, watching you intently. He’s waiting for you to pull away, but you stand your ground.

“Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?” 

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face. Hearing him say that name — the word that’s been keeping you up at night — you realize just how much you missed the sound of his voice.

“I made you think I’m afraid of you.”

Logan takes another step forward, testing you. You know what he’s trying to do — he’s giving you an out. Pull away, and he’ll stop, but you lock eyes with the man before you. His movements might be cautious, but his eyes are wild with unspoken emotion.

“Well, are you?”

“No.”

Another step forward. He’s now standing within arm’s length. You could reach out and touch him. God, you want to reach out and touch him. Logan looks down at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. No man has ever looked at you like this, but then again, Logan certainly isn’t like any other man. 

“You should be.”

That voice from the first day you met him appears yet again, telling you to run. But you stay put. You don’t need to run from him. You don’t need to fear him. He protected you from those men. He was prepared to fight for you. He revealed his true identity to keep you safe. And once again, you’re like a moth to his flame — gravitating towards him.

“I’m not afraid of you, Logan. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s a breath away, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze moves from your eyes to your lips. His hand covers yours, stopping your anxious fidgeting with his lighter. You watch in awe as he takes it from your grasp and places it into your jacket pocket. He moves his hand out of your pocket; his fingers leave a scorching sensation behind in their absence as they slide across your skin until they reach your waist. His other hand comes up and tenderly caresses the side of your face.

“Say it again.”

Your breath hitches at his request, but you do what he asks — hell, you’d do anything for him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan shakes his head. His hand moves to take hold of the other side of your waist. The grip he has on you is secure but gentle.

“No, sweetheart. Not that part.”

Oh. Oh.

You could cry at the realization — at his need to feel wanted and appreciated. You move your hands to either side of his face. He melts into your touch before meeting your eyes again. A part of you wonders if anyone has ever touched Logan like this — if he’s ever known what physical contact feels like outside of a fight.

“I’m not afraid of you, Logan. I trust you.”

And suddenly, Logan is pulling you into him. His lips desperately find yours. Your fingers thread through his hair as his body pushes you into the brick wall. His movements are rooted in a deep hunger — not driven by lust, but in a need to be known and loved and touched. So that’s just what you do. Your hands move through his hair, down his neck, across his chest, over his back. You attempt to touch every bit of Logan to prove that you want this — that you want him. 

A low growl reverberates in his chest as he pulls away from your lips. Unlike the night before, this growl isn’t rooted in anger but, instead, the result of a deep desire. His hands move away from your body and find the wall behind you. Your brow furrows at the loss of his touch until you hear a familiar sound on either side of you — a sharp, metallic snikt. He leans down, forehead resting against yours as his short, rapid breaths fan over your face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t control it sometimes.”

You shake your head at his admission. He did control himself — he purposely removed his hands from your body before his claws extended. He protects you as if it’s just his second nature — something he doesn’t even need to take the time to consider. You run your hands up his chest, feeling the tense muscles under his t-shirt, before gently grabbing his face.

“Hey. Hey.”

You pull away slightly so you can look him in the eye. Your words grab his attention, grounding him.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I trust you.”

His breaths gradually even out, and eventually, you hear his claws retract and feel the familiar warmth of his touch against your skin again. As Logan maintains eye contact, looking at you as if you’re the answer to some unspoken prayer, you begin to think you’ve gotten this all wrong: maybe you’re not the moth, but the flame.

[stunies]

KINKTOBER DAY 17 — APHRODISIACS. dan heng (hsr) x f!reader! ﾉ link to return to kinktober 2024 masterlist & taglist

it’s only natural that you’d try to play it off, especially when he had already warned you about this ahead of time. your bad, you’ll admit. unfortunately for you though, this aphrodisiac is one of the strongest, and it won’t be going away anytime soon.

CONTAINS — aphrodisiacs, hints of mutual pining, marking, wall sex, squirting (reader cums from him putting it in)

To your surprise and nobody else’s, Dan Heng was right after all.

A small part of you knew he was when he had initially warned you- advised that you stay on the Express because you’d make for an easy target, but you also couldn’t deny that you’d much rather join him than stay cooped up in your room all week.

Any time with Dan Heng is better than no time with Dan Heng, or so you thought. Maybe if you’d pictured this outcome in your head a bit earlier, you wouldn’t have tagged along.

But you’d also rather die than admit you were wrong.

The Express’ hallway looks hazy when you try to make your way back to your room after wishing him a good night. Similar to how the world appears when you’ve come down with a high fever. You think you can feel the blood buzzing in your ears, and it wasn’t even a direct hit. You’re certain of this fact- you’ve always been quick on your feet.

But this one has already started to make you feel lightheaded.

The thought of him taking notice of how your nails dug into his door frame earlier to prevent yourself from collapsing onto the floor haunts you a little. He’s so observant that you’re surprised he hasn’t said anything yet- besides a couple glances and maybe one or two concerned “Are you alright?”

Perhaps he really didn’t know, and you were just that capable of hiding the fact that you’ve been hit with one of the strongest aphrodisiacs in existence.

Though that seems unlikely.

It seems to only worsen with each passing minute. Switches from the initial dull ache between your legs to a sharp throbbing, and you feel so hot. Feverish. Maybe even delirious at this point. It takes all the strength in your body just to roll over in bed and flip open your computer to search if aphrodisiacs can actually kill.

You sure hope not. What’ll happen if you’re dead by morning? Having never kissed Dan Heng a single time?

You don’t even want to imagine a life with that kind of depressing end.

It’s possible that you ended up lasting for another thirty minutes at least. Maybe five in reality. Though it’s hard to keep track of time when you’re rubbing your cunt back and forth against your pillow like it’s the last thing you’ll do. Imagining that it’s him you’re straddling only seems to make it even worse.

You want him so bad.

That’s why after some time, you find yourself in front of his room again- head hanging low, chest rising up and down in heavy pants, and your legs barely able to hold up your weight. You don’t even bother facing him. Not when you can already tell what face he’s making when he says the words,

“I told you that you shouldn’t have come along.”

If you wanted to give him a sheepish laugh, it only comes out as a pained whine instead. “S-sorry,” your eyes widen at how strained your voice sounds, and you think you see him stiffen in front of you. “Do you think….. um, do you know to fix it?”

It falls eerily silent.

“..Please…? I can’t… can’t really.. ask Welt for help.”

“Don’t ask Welt.” His voice softens ever so slightly, but you think there’s something unfamiliar behind it. You suck in a sharp breath as soon as he takes a step forward to reach around you and close the door behind you— slowly, as if giving you time to change your mind. “I know how to help.”

Your first thought is that he smells nice. Really, really nice. You’ve always thought that he’d smell good, but with the way you are now, it’s intoxicating. Your knees almost buckle, and you hope he doesn’t hear you swallow a gulp.

You could just lift your arm and touch him. You could pull him in for a hug and take a deep inhale straight into his chest. You could bury your face deep in-

“If I were to help you fix this, then I would need to touch you.” Your eyes widen, walls instinctively fluttering around nothing at the suggestion. His words carry more weight to them, and you at least know Dan Heng well enough to recognize this as his way of asking if you’re okay.

And you’re much, much more than okay with receiving his help.

“Please…. yes please.”

Time seems to slow down as he closes the distance between the two of you— backs you up until you’re pressed against the wall and your face heats up. Your entire body follows as soon as you look at him, head fuzzy and clouded and you’re barely able to process just how close he is.

This is something you’ve always wanted. Maybe even dreamed about.

“I…” your eyes slam shut when you feel him hike up your skirt— slowly, and his fingers briefly ghost over your waist before he finally slots his thigh between your legs and nudges. “F-fuck..!” Your head falls back, back of your hand instinctively coming to hide your face— and he freezes.

That sensitive? You didn’t know it was possible for it to worsen. If you weren’t in such a daze, maybe you’d feel more embarrassed about it. “Close your eyes,” his voice is so close that it sends a shiver down your spine, “and let me touch you more.”

You listen. It’s a confirmation to him that you desperately need his help— because you never listen. “You’re lucky that you weren’t hit directly,” you feel him tilt your chin up, and a part of you wishes you could hold it— nuzzle your cheek against his palm— but then something suddenly clicks in your head.

“..You… you saw—”

His lips slot against yours the next second. Just one peck, and then another. It shuts you up immediately- sends a weird warmth coursing through your body and bubbles up in your core. Feels good. Feels good and he hasn’t even started. He pulls away, only to mumble a “yeah. I saw everything. I always keep an eye on you because you never listen..though I couldn’t make it to you in time” before his lips are back on yours.

To his surprise, you keep your eyes shut like he told you to. Maybe it’s all too much for you to take in, so closing your eyes and focusing solely on how he feels is the only way you know you’re not dreaming. Your body goes into overdrive, knees buckling as soon as he deepens the kiss and you almost moan when you feel him wrap an arm around you to keep you upright.

You’re practically melting. Melting into the kiss- letting him pull you even closer and letting him press his thigh into your cunt. Everything after that becomes a blur in your head. Where you end and he starts is something you don’t bother thinking about. It’s a mess of kisses— deep and full of tongue— and he trails them down your neck, ends just below your ear after he’s kissed every inch of your skin.

You’re certain he’s left marks, but his lips feel too good for you to care. The exact moment when he picked you up to press your back against the wall never registered in your head either. You only open your eyes when you finally feel him prod at your hole, and your heartbeat is practically thumping against your ribcage. “I’m going in. Hold tight.”

He starts to pushes inside, and your vision goes white. “Wait— w-wai—” You choke, embrace around his neck slipping, loosens just a bit too much and you sink down onto his length— mouth falling open in a silent scream as soon as he bottoms out in one rough motion.

It hits you all at once. A violent orgasm that rips from deep inside you- one you’re not quite familiar with- has you screaming into his shoulder, nails digging into the muscles of his back as you gush all over him. He practically growls at the feeling, fingers digging into your thighs even when they tremble and jerk against him.

The room falls silent aside from your panting and his breathing. Your walls spasm around his thickness- strongly feeling the aftershocks, and he feels your slick dripping down his cock and onto the floor beneath you.

“‘S n-no fair at all,” you whimper, “feels too good. I’m almost scared—”

“Don’t say things like that.” If it was even possible, he holds you even closer. Even with the softness in his voice, you can tell he’s struggling to hold back. “You don’t need to think about anything,” he reminds you, “just hold tight and let yourself feel everything.”

“Trust me to take care of it.”

dividers by @ cafekitsune