#if anyone wants to take up this as like a prompt tag me

[stbot]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE BISHOVA MEET CUTE FROM YOUR TAGS (if you want to, no pressure)

(Prompt: do you think vampires get run over because people can’t see them in their rear view mirrors?)

The first time Kate’s official S.H.I.E.L.D. communicator goes off, she’s in the middle of a terrible recurring stress dream where she’s made it to the finals of Hell’s Kitchen, but all the ingredients keep coming alive like they escaped from the set of a new Muppets movie and Gordon Ramsey won’t stop yelling that “the carrots are so raw even Bugs Bunny won’t eat them!”

Which is to say, that in all the dream-chaos, she doesn’t actually hear it at all. (And also that she should probably stop watching cartoons before bed, but that’s a problem for Future Kate.)

So when she jerks awake in a cold sweat, begging the vegetables to “stop singing so i can murder you for Gordon,” it takes a minute for her to recover enough to notice that the insistant beeping isn’t actually the kitchen timer letting her know that’s she’s about to burn some boiling water, but rather that she’s being summoned.

By S.H.I.E.L.D.

For her first real assignment as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative.

And she’s still wearing her yummy sushi pajamas.

“Oh, shit!”

Kate flings herself out of bed with such force that Pizza Dog startles awake, immediately on alert for intruders. But he quickly realizes it’s just his human doing what she does, and he settles back down at the foot of the bed. His eye tracks Kate, frantically yanking clothes out of her dresser while said pajamas get flung in the general vicinity of the hamper. He gives an eager whine when she pulls her socks on, but she just grimaces in reply.

“Sorry, buddy,” she apologizes, “but this is a work call. We’ll take a nice long walk when I’m back, promise.” She gives his head a quick pat, “go back to sleep,” and then rattles down the stairs, her pants still unbuttoned and her flaccid belt dangling useless from the loops.

—

Kate stumbles out of the elevator, hopping on one foot as she tries to tie the shoelaces on the other. The squeaking rubber of her sole ricochets off the concrete walls of the parking garage, the soft thump of her hops beating out the unsteady rhythm of a toddler who just discovered the joy of smacking things. But eventually the knot is knotted and Kate gets both feet back on the ground. She removes her bow from her mouth and bolts through the garage.

Soon enough, she’s running up on her super cool, super sweet, super not at all intimidating to drive official S.H.I.E.L.D. Suburban. (Apparently ride shares are, in Director Fury’s words, “unprofessional” and “a security risk”, so Kate is now officially liscensed to drive in the State of New York.)

(God help anyone she shares the road with.)

A quick press of the key fob and the alarm chirps, the driver’s door easily popping open when Kate pulls the handle. She clambers inside, tucking her bow on the passenger seat, and then awkwardly wiggles the strap of her quiver over her head. (And only accidentally hits the horn twice, much improved from the last time where there was so much thrashing she worried she might set off the airbag.)

Once the bow and her arrows are secured, Kate starts the car, buckles up, and checks all her mirrors. It’s the middle of the night, so there’s not much risk, but she’s still pretty new to this whole driving thing, and better safe than sorry.

It looks all clear, so Kate slips the SUV into reverse and backs out of the parking spot, with maybe a little more lead in her foot than she should. But it’s late, and the garage is empty, so she’s sure it’ll be just —

THUNK.

“Oh my God,” Kate says.

“Oh my God!” Someone behind the car shouts.

“Oh my God!” Kate screams, frantically clawing at the handle to escape this death trap monstrosity before it murders her, too. The door pops open and as soon as she moves to flee, the car begins rolling backward.

“Stop!” The person shouts again. “You’ve already hit me once!”

Kate slams her foot back on the brake, puts the SUV in park, and then gets out.

Only for the seatbelt to yank her back in when she tries.

(That’s it. Unprofessional or not, she’s sticking with the subway from now on. The only real danger there is being forced to listen to buskers or get bit by a rat.)

Freed from the car’s attempt to strangle her, Kate rushes around the back just in time to see a woman standing up. Which is great! Dead people don’t walk around on two feet so Kate hasn’t committed vehicular manslaughter! What a great night!

It’s hard to tell, with her back turned to Kate, but it seems like the woman is just a little disheveled. Some dust on her leather coat. Short blonde hair in slight disarray. And a backpack’s been flung several feet away from the almost-murder scene. But other than that… no blood, no bones protruding from any skin, no damage at all really.

“I am,” Kate moves for the bag, “just so so sorry. I swear I checked my mirrors and didn’t see you.”

“Yes, well how could you?” The woman brushes dust off her pants, not even bothering to glance Kate’s way. “That boat you’re driving could block the Suez Canal it’s so big.”

Weird reference, but, “Yeah, it’s - it’s for work. I hate it.” She holds the bag out. “Are you okay?”

“I am in one piece,” the stranger states, and then rolls out a shoulder. It cracks. “You did not think to look before backing up?”

“Well, I checked my mirrors,” Kate says again. She did. She definitely did. “I swear I didn’t see you.”

“That is why you look,” she insists. “You have never heard of a blind spot? Or are all spots blind to you?”

“Okay that’s a little rude.”

“You just ran me over!” She aggressively brushes off her jacket, dust motes swirling through the shafts of light. “I could have been child! I could have been cute little puppy dog!”

Which is just outrageous. It’s the middle of the night! It’s not like a kid would be skulking around a parking garage in the middle of the night! And what kind of puppy… no, okay, that one’s fair. A stray dog might’ve run out and Kate would’ve been devastated.

But one didn’t! The only person who got hit was this woman who is, honestly, being a little bit dramatic about the whole thing.

Kate huffs. “Look, the blame isn’t like totally on me here. I mean, what were you doing lurking around right behind my car like that? You didn’t see the brake lights?”

“Me?” The woman whips around, and as soon as she does, Kate regrets saying the words. “You hit me, but this is my fault?”

“No,” Kate rushes to say, “no, of course not. It’s totally on me. I’m so sorry.”

She offers the backpack, and the woman takes it, a bit of the fury snuffing out as her eyes take Kate in, head to toe.

“I’m really sorry,” Kate says again. “Are you - do you need a ride to the hospital? I’m in kind of a rush for work, but there’s one on the way.”

The woman snorts. “You think I would voluntarily get into that car with you? After you literally just ran me over with it?”

Kate shrugs, offering the smoothest smile she’s got. “Hard for me to hit you with the car if you’re inside it?”

The woman just stares at her, gaze taking in every inch of Kate’s face. Then she barks out a laugh. “I must be concussed because I actually found that charming.”

Kate’s gotten worse compliments. “Are you okay though?”

“I will live.” The woman sniffs, pulls her backpack on. “Mostly.”

Kate inches back towards the car door. S.H.I.E.L.D. is waiting, after all. “Do you - I mean, can I maybe make it up to you? Dry clean your coat? Polish your shoes? Buy you a drink?”

The woman tilts her head. She regards Kate with a heavy gaze, some calculation taking place behind her eyes. And it’s a little scary, being on the receiving end of such intense scrutiny. Scary and, if Kate’s being honest, a little thrilling. (Her would-be victim is rather easy on the eyes. Kate’s not mad about looking.)

Finally, the woman smiles. And when she does, it’s wide enough to flash the long fangs of her teeth.

“Yes,” she says, “a drink does sound nice.”

And, “oh,” Kate realizes, “oh, no.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Yo! I'd like to request prompt 41. "I wanna spend my life with you" for Richie Jerimovich, please :)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lostinwonderland314 @fallout-girl219 @wabi-sabi1090 @morgthemagpie

Companion piece to:

One Night Stand (NSFW) - It was never meant to be more than a one night stand.

Old School - Richie and you prefer to do things old school.

Safe With You - Richie still has nightmares about how he found Michael.

Joy - The stabbing leads Richie to confront some of the doubts he has about himself.

Richie realises he wants to marry you because of Taylor Swift.

It starts with a conversation in the park between you and Eva. The two of you are eating ice cream and discussing the merits of the ‘Midnights’ album vs the ‘Reputation’ album when he catches up with you. He’s still a little stressy about running late for pick up but the sight of you together, it soothes him immediately.

The discussion continues through dinner, shifting to individual songs, the both of you dissecting the lyrics. At this point he’s sure you could write a fucking thesis on the topic.

The thing is three months ago Taylor Swift was barely more than a blip on your radar. Your music taste like his defaulted to the 80s and 90s, now you’re the world’s most foremost expert on Tay-Tay because you’ve allowed his daughter to educate you. Another other woman he knows would have lost patience by now but you, you fucking take that ball and run with it because it’s important to Eva, and she’s important to him.

“You amaze me.” He tells you later that night when Eva’s tucked up in bed. You’re drying the dishes, wearing his White Sox t-shirt and those matching knee socks that do a little something for him. “Anyone else would be running for the hills right now but your standing here singing along to ‘Snow On The Beach’.”

You smile as you shrug your shoulders.

“It reminds me of you.” You tell him as you stand on tiptoes to put the plates away. “You know ‘weird but fucking beautiful’.”

Fuck if that doesn’t hit him right in the heart because no one has ever called Richie beautiful before you.

“Marry me.” He blurts out and you laugh before shaking your head.

“Sorry honey, that’s ‘Love Story’.” You tease him picking up the mug off the draining board and continuing to dry it with the cloth. “Carry on like this and we’ll be revoking your Swiftie fan club card.”

“No Joy.”  He says, getting down on one knee. “I mean it, I want you to fucking marry me.”

Love Richie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[joontroverted]

a month or so ago, tengen told me that we were going on a picnic date, and i got all dolled up. so imagine my surprise when he took me to his family graveyard and paid our respects to them (rest in peace, thank you for your sexy genes and your sexy generational wealth) and ate under the cherry blossoms as though they were not dead and buried beneath us <3 as sweet as it was of him to want to share that part of him with me and meet his family, i very very kindly asked for a do over, this time with just us!

he's a busy man, but he would never compromise on his flashiness, so the moment the rainy season passed he took a whole day off just for our picnic date. all he told me was to wear something pretty and probably refrain from accessorizing much (all while he's the one who accessorizes the most among us). when the time comes, he takes me to the river down the town and surprises me with a picnic on a boat!

the breeze makes my hair sway behind me, and tengen cannot take his eyes off of as i gaze at the trees and vines we row under. he only ever seems to focus on the food when he's feeding me because he doesn't wanna mess up my lipgloss or spill over my pretty dress, what a man. he loves more of the intense seafood like pufferfish (which i have no particular interest in) but he splurged on the seafood i generally like to have! we are stuffed by the time we get to other side of town. he takes me on a walk where we lock arms and lean into each other (me more on him because he's 6'6" and broad) while he shows me around the town. he eventually takes me to the marketplace that is well known for their jewellery and buys me a pretty waist chain (ps not the chain in the pic lol) and rings and earrings (he knows me too welllll)!

we finally settle down by the meadow alongside the river where he lays me down, and tells me stories of the places he's been to and the places he wants to take me too. he's a hopeless simp for me, so trust, when he sees a rose he immediately picks it up and presents it to me (a rose for my ruby he says, he is so lame i love him). the rose is the color of his eyes and the color of my lips and the color of his lips soon because we can't resist kissing, and ohhh we kissed for so long, till a fucking mosquito bit me </3 the only thing biting your ass (yes he hiked my skirt up that much) and smudging your lips is me, he says, as he calls for the boatman for a boat back home immediately.

our loyal and understanding boatman does not even comment a lil bit on how i started the day with no jewelry and red lips and ended the day with lots of jewelry and my lover covered in my lipstick :)

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ sooo very late to post this because it's such a cute and dreamy selfship prompt and i wanted to write something right because i don't write so much about my selfships! we are engaged to be engaged here, so he's courting me! i was confused as to whom to write about at first but then marena lovie wrote for me with kei, kento and toji and i could not live up to her lovely ideas lolll so that gave me the oppurtinity to write for tengen! look how carried away i've gotten 😭

no pressure tags: @awwgasm @cursingtoji @gothbachira @chuuyasboots @nappingmoon + anyone who wants to join in!!

in light of missing the warmth of spring & summer, let’s make some picnic plans with our partners ! find a picnic location, a food you absolutely have to bring with you, your picnic date outfit & something you n’ your partner do during the picnic ! i’ll go first !

zayne always picks spots by water whenever we go out on picnics because he knows i love it so much (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) and we bring plenty of books to read !! unfortunately he brings medical textbooks and i bring dark romance books so we don’t share what we’re reading ૮(˶˃ᆺ˂˶) i’ll always bake jam tarts to bring with us & zayne always makes it a habit of feeding me one…

tagging a few of my favourite selfshipping babies (absolutely no pressure) & of course it’s open tags anyways !! @heiayen @mlkbwunnies @kokonoiis @tetsuskei @qichun @osamwah @kentophilia

[my-mistake-lets-do-this-again]

alright y’all, gather round

Jeeves and Wooster Beauty and the Beast AU where Bertie is the Beast and instead of being mean to Jeeves (Belle), he’s just a clumsy dummy who happens to create loud crashing noises that scare people. He didn’t kidnap anyone but instead had them as invited guests but misunderstanding led to them thinking he was terrifying. So when Jeeves comes, Bertie tries to hide himself away thinking that it’ll just be like every other time and (spoilers) it’s not.

Uncle Tom is Cogsworth and Uncle George is Lumière. Aunt Dahlia is Mrs. Potts and they’re scheming to break the curse so they don’t have to be objects anymore and the other objects in the castle are some members of the Drones (like Gussie is Chip). The previous people that Bertie “kidnapped” are the fiancés and Gaston/the rest of the townspeople are members of the Ganymede club, fiancés, and families of the fiancé.

The witch is obviously Aunt Agatha.

[starry-bi-sky]

wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?

"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.

Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."

"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"

He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.

Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.

Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."

"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."

Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.

Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."

He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."

This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"

Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.

Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.

Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.

Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."

[necrotic-nephilim]

Hey, I'm so glad you enjoyed! Your comment was so thoughtful too 😭 I loved the dissection. I'm not really someone who bases my works off their Canon dynamic a lot, so I'm glad you ended up enjoying it when I tried! All your prompts were amazing. I actually really liked another one of yours too (the time travel one), but I couldn't figure out a way to write it the way you requested. Would you mind if I took that prompt anyway? I can credit you for it, I just loved it a lot and want to take a crack at it. - @rottenapricots

hi! i *loved* your fic so dearly, the comment was the *least* i could say. i kept thinking of all the things i wanted to mention and then forgetting them so my thoughts were all of the place but i truly loved your fic so much <3 you did *such* a good job with their canon characters while still melding them beautifully to the AU!

please go ahead!!! you can take any of the prompts you want and change them if you need to, or keep them the same, honestly go wild! i'd *love* to see what you come up with for the time travel idea.

[upsidedowngrass]

amelia suffers from "fandom designated Nice Girl"

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'baby fever' - 18+ logan x f!reader

summary: after your first baby is born, logan realises he doesn't want to stop at just one. (4.4k) tags: erm no one look at me, logan has baby fever, fluffy beginning, established relationship, breeding kink, blowjob, p in v, wet & messy, nipple play, overstimulation, creampie (lots of them oops), lots of dirty talk, clit play, missionary + doggy style, dom!logan & kind of sub!reader, crying from pleasure, rough sex, kind of body worship, for the 'home' prompt for logan promptober.

logan swears he’s dreaming, he must be. there’s no possible way he got this lucky, right? he’s holding his own baby girl in his arms, bouncing her on his hip by the bedroom window, watching on in awe as she eagerly takes in the world around her.

the light dances in her eyes while the world passes by behind the glass, birds singing, trees swaying gently, autumn leaves twirling in their yearly gentle dance. everything is new to her, and logan can’t help but be struck by such a profound love. everything feels new to him now too.

he never thought he’d have this, never thought he’d deserve it. still doesn’t believe he deserves it but accepts the role with more honour than any other role he’s been bestowed before it. a father, him, logan, a father.

her eyes droop, and his smile widens more than he thought possible. he makes his way through to her room as he mumbles sweet little words of affection to her in a voice so high pitched that no one would recognise it's his.

you watch on from the bed, a warmth spreading in your chest. you could watch him like this all day. he was a natural, the paternal instinct coming so easily to him. logan had always felt this deep-seated need to protect. though he spent so many years in solitude with no path and insisted he preferred it that way, you knew differently from the moment you met him. logan was a pack animal, through and through.

his eyes land on you as he returns to the bedroom and approaches you, standing at the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup your cheek in a loving gesture. thumb tracing across your soft skin, he speaks, “you look tired too.”

you smile, eyes closing as you lean into his touch, “maybe a little.”

parenthood hadn’t been entirely easy, but you couldn’t have anyone better by your side.

logan carefully makes his way into bed beside you, pulling you against his firm chest as his hand finds your hair and begins to thread through the strands. you hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, soothing you, lulling you, though he could achieve that with his presence alone.

his eyes settle on the window, head tilting to the side. you can practically hear it, the cogs turning. logan might have seemed like a steel trap to others, but he may as well be translucent to you. “what’s up?“ you ask sleepily.

“oh,” he murmurs, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point that you’re alerted by his silent mannerisms, “just. . . thinkin’.”

and he was, thinking about you, about the baby.

“‘bout what?” you yawn.

logan pauses, “. . .would you ever want another one?”

your eyes shoot open and you lift your head to look up at him, you find his expression and realise he’s serious.

he flushes, just a little, but you notice, “never mind.”

a small laugh of disbelief leaves you, “logan howlett, do you have baby fever?”

he flushes deeper, what did that even mean? logan scoffs and you visibly see him retreat into that shell inside his mind.

“oh baby,” you grin, cuddling against his chest as you lean your chin against his shirt to continue gazing up at him lovingly, “you want another baby, huh?”

groaning, he rolls his eyes, “quit it.” he’s beetroot red now, a sight he only reserves for you, though it’s not as though he can help it.

but damn, the baby was only born a few months ago - he was already thinking of your second? the thought fills you with warmth, but more prominently, need. your eyes land on his flushed face as you bite your lip, wondering if he is thinking about filling you up right this very second.

". . . what'cha thinkin' 'bout?" you ask sweetly with feigned naivety as your hand slides down his torso to find the- oh. oh. he's already hard. you know what he's thinking about.

logan groans and tilts his head back when your hand makes contact, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. "nothin'," he lies, his hand covering yours making you squeeze around his length through the material.

your breath catches in your throat, a heat rising in your chest. "is that right?" you whisper, trying to stay in control. the thought of him taking you, hard and deep, whispering filth about how he's gonna make you a momma again over and over is making it hard to resist rolling over onto your back for him.

and he can sense it, can see it in your face, the way your brows twitch as he grows harder under your touch. it's so cute, actually, how hard you try, knowing he's going to pounce any minute.

but he plays your game, he lets you remain 'in control', though you're anything but.

slowly, you sit up on his lap and begin to unbuckle his belt. time isn't exactly a luxury you can both often afford, what with a newborn baby, but you're too in the moment to care about speeding things up just yet.

his hands rest on your hips, digits digging into the skin as he practices restraint. he wants nothing more than to buck up into you, to throw you on the bed and take you. but he waits. like a good boy.

once he's freed from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, you hum softly at the sight of him, long, thick and ready. your mouth waters at the view, and his eyes widen when you begin to lower your head towards his begging, leaking tip. slowly, oh-so slowly.

logans large hand cups the back of your head, easily engulfing you in his grasp as he guides you lower until he feels it. your tongue. it teases across the tip before you're suddenly wrapping your lips around him. his eyes widen further, letting out a grunt as you take him by surprise.

"holy fuck," he huffs in a grin, "hungry for my cock, huh baby?"

you know now that your control is gone, given up happily and submissively. you know it in the grip he has on your hair, the way he's easing you up and down on his cock. and you'd give him everything if you could, the stars in the sky, the whole world if it were possible.

"that's it, get me nice and ready. . ." he mumbles, losing himself a little in the pleasure, the words dripping from his tongue like honey.

you're not sure what deal logan made with the devil to have the ability to talk as sweetly yet as filthy as he does, as well as he does, but you feel entirely grateful as his sinful words serve to dampen your underwear. you moan against his hardening cock, savouring the way every prominent vein feels against your soft tongue.

he pulls you back, looking into your lustful hazy eyes. you look so pretty like that, he thinks, lips red and swollen from sucking so well, eyes hooded and unfocused because you're thinking about how good that cock would feel stuffed deep somewhere else.

"c'mere," he coos, a hand on your hip guiding you forward to sit closer on his lap, "we need to get you nice and ready too, don't we?"

a growl rumbles from the back of his throat as his eyes travel down the path of your body, resting at the apex of your thighs. he purrs in delight when he notices you're already soaked through to your shorts. "wow, that worked up just from suckin' my cock, baby? you really do want me. . ."

you're bright red, shifting needily on his lap. it's always like this, he drives you to the brink of insanity with need before he's even started. you crave him, crave that thick length filling you so perfectly like it always does, and fuck, you'd give him a baby, you'd give him a hundred babies if it meant you get to experience this over and over again.

"shh," he whispers, his thumb snaking down to tease you through your shorts, applying just enough pressure to have you panting, "there we go, gettin' you nice and ready for my cock, my pretty girl. . ." his eyes flit to yours before returning his gaze to the soaked fabric.

"i am ready," you whine through a choked moan. you're literally dripping.

logan shakes his head, tutting, "tsk, tsk. . . need you extra ready for what i'm gonna do to you, you think i'm just gonna cum in you once?"

holy fuck. your head spins, reeling at his words as you feel your pussy clench around nothing. the ache between your legs grows, almost unbearable, pleading to be filled, used. his name leaves your lips in what can only be described as a needy mewl.

"no," he continues, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer, "see baby, i'm gonna cum in you, over and over. 'till you're nice and full, it's all i've been thinkin' about." his breath ghosts against your lips, "and you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you? gonna give me another baby?"

you moan breathlessly, how can you even respond to that? instead you nod quickly, swallowing hard as you try in a futile effort to stop your head from spinning.

but he loves you like this, needy, panting, desperate for his cock. sure, he might have been the one blushing earlier, but you're certainly a pretty shade of red now.

"use your words," he whispers against your lips, teasing you with the promise of a kiss, and a whole lot more.

you feel yourself clench again, his thumb still rubbing soft circles against your clit through your shorts, "please."

"please what?" logan grins, loving how your face twists in frustration.

a whine, "please fill me up, want to give you another baby, please? please, fuck, just fuck me."

he can't help but laugh softly at the needy words spilling from your lips in a desperate attempt to coax him inside. and it's working. his body thrums with pleasure as he remembers how good you feel, how he fits inside you like you were made for him, how good you take it when he gets a little rough.

"that's a good girl. . ." he hums, gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your back. his towering muscled form looms over you, your body opening up automatically, legs spreading and hands by your head. you want him to take you, take all of you. now.

"love this body, was made for me y'know. . ." logan mumbles lovingly as he kisses his way down the column of your throat, hands rubbing at your hips before they begin to inch up your shirt. it rises until it covers your face, and he keeps it there as he nips at your chest. "hm, no bra?" you feel his devious smirk against your skin, tongue beginning to flick teasingly at a nipple.

your back arches, the sensations amplified by the loss of sight. fuck, he loves to watch you squirm like this, and those noises you make. . .

he gives equal attention to both nipples, licking and sucking and kissing your breasts with increasing intensity, smirking all the while. finally, he pulls the shirt from your head, your breath catches in your throat as you look down at him and meet his hungry gaze.

logan begins kissing along your tummy, nuzzling against your soft skin, so close to where you want him yet so far. you want to beg, but you don't get the chance, because soon he's pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. he's greedy too.

kissing the skin that's exposed to him, his kisses trail down your mound, ending at the top of your glistening slit. "ah," he grins, eyes glowing like a man of great discovery, "there she is, she's missed me huh?"

all breath escapes your lungs as he licks a stripe along your pussy, groaning at the taste as he does so. he buries his face in you, licking and nudging your clit with his tongue as he devours you. logan swears it feels better for him than for you, could eat you out all day, but that's not what he's here for this time.

"you're so wet, holy fuck," he swallows, panting softly against your skin, "so good for me, so good, just-" giving a few quick kisses to your pussy, he pulls back and removes his shirt, "don't move."

you almost laugh, why would you want to go anywhere? with a man like logan who worships the ground you walk on, kisses you like it's the first time every time and fucks you within an inch of your life every time - you'd be crazy to want to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, where you belong.

he's worked himself out of his jeans and boxers too, admiring the view beneath him as he takes his cock in his hand, slapping it against your slit. with each squeak that escapes you, his smirk grows wider, "love those noises you make, just for me."

you gasp and arch your back as he begins to rub his tip against your wet folds. you're not sure who he's teasing more, himself or you. a moan slips from your lips each time his cock glides up against your clit, sending sparks to your core.

"that's it, feel how hard i am?" he whispers, "yeah, gonna cum so hard in that pretty little pussy, baby, is that what you want?"

you can hardly take it anymore, "god, yes."

he grins, positioning himself as he hooks your knees on top of his arms as he presses down, almost folding you in half. you gasp and grip the sheets at this new position, and gasp even louder as he quickly and easily slips inside of you. "fucking hell," logan huffs, "i hardly even had to move, you want it so fuckin' bad don't you? feel how deep i can get like this?"

and god, you can. you're not sure you've ever felt him this deep. all you know is how good it feels, his cock straining against your tight velvet walls, finally filling you.

when he begins to move, it's like nothing else. he starts at a slower pace, slow deep strokes as his hips meet yours, driving his cock even deeper as you open up to him. his eyes flutter shut and you admire him above you, knowing you're making him feel as good as he's making you feel.

you find your voice again, and speak up, "your cock feels so good baby, don't stop. . ." you get what you secretly wanted, a moan sneaks from his lips. it's soft, wanting, mirroring the need in your own voice. "fuck, love it when you moan for me. . ."

his eyes snap open, a flash of vulnerability and then his lips are crashing against yours. he kisses you with a deep passion as he moves inside you. logan loves the man he becomes when he fucks you, loves that he can let go, be soft, be rough, be whatever he feels. you'll accept him either way, because you're always a spent mess in the end. all for him.

"takin' my cock so well, always do," he huffs against your lips, driving himself a little deeper, wet sounds filling the air as he slips in and out, "gonna feel even better when i make you cum a few times, when you're so sensitive, taking every last drop i give ya."

you moan and pant, nodding, wordlessly begging him to continue.

"and you'll take it, huh, baby? take it cus you wanna make me a daddy again?" he growls, pace increasing as he fucks you harder, primal instinct taking over, "wanna make me proud and let me fill you as many times as i can? many times as i want?"

holy fuck, you can hardly think straight. in fact, you can hardly think at all. there's one thing, one thought swirling around the base of your skull, you don't want him to ever stop.

you clench around his thick cock and his brows lower, pressing his forehead against yours as he pounds you into the mattress. the bed is squeaking, begging for mercy as he continues, but you feel too good for him to hold back anymore. "baby please-"

"baby please what?" he snaps back, panting as he leans further into you, pushing your legs back until they're almost at your ears. you'd be shocked at your own flexibility if you could think at all. "please fill you up? please make you a mommy again? please what, huh? speak, baby, i can't hear you."

gasping at his tone, you feel your pussy flutter around him. he's gonna make you cum, fuck, you're gonna cum so hard. "i- baby i'm-"

but he doesn't let you finish your sentence, not that you'd make much sense at this point anyway. his cock twitches inside you, almost begging to be milked, begging to fill you until you can't take any more. "gonna cum?" logan whispers, already knowing the answer.

and you can't answer, because you're a mess, gasping and moaning and writhing as his cock makes light work of your wet pussy. his thick length glides in, and out, driving deep to meet your cervix with every thrust.

"cum on this cock," a firm command punctuated with a deep thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, "c'mon, make me cum, you wanted it, didn't you? want me to knock you up nice and good."

your orgasm approaches, a warmth spreading through your lower stomach, rising and rising each time his hips meet yours in his relentless pace. you want to tell him that it feels so good, but your words get caught in your throat. and all at once, your climax rips through you.

it comes in waves, building until your walls are spasming around him and he's cumming too, hot white ropes of cum pushed deeper and deeper as his pace quickens. you're both cursing, panting as his cock pushes it deeper and deeper as your pussy flutters and gushes.

even as the climax fades, he doesn't falter. "told you," logan growls, leaning up to grip your thighs, lifting your lower half to the perfect angle as he keeps it suspended in the air in his tight grip, "gonna cum in that pretty little pussy as many times as i can, 'till i know you're carrying my baby."

it's so overwhelming, in the best kind of way. you wriggle as he begins fucking you again, the new angle causing your eyes to roll back as he hits a certain spot that has you sobbing. it feels so fucking good, both his words and his actions causing you to throb.

"that's it, i know you can take it," he soothes you, "that's my girl, c'mon. . ."

tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure once again building to a crescendo. you don't want him to stop, don't want him to ever stop. though you're so very sensitive, and so very tired, you don't fucking care, all that matters right now is him and the messy love you're making.

he feels a tightening in his gut, his mind spiralling, obsessed with the idea of having another child with you. "you like it when i breed you?" he whispers suddenly, testing the waters.

fuck, that word. did he just say he was. . . breeding you?

logan feels the way you clench around him at the mention of the word and he grins, "yeah, you like that don't you? take that fucking cock like a good girl, let me breed you."

"please-" you beg, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. he's really into this, and so are you, unlocking a whole new side to one another as he fucks you fervently.

how can he resist when you beg so sweetly? he's so sensitive, but his need for release chases him, overwhelming him with how intense his second orgasm is. he spills into you, gasping and grunting as his grip on your thighs tightens. "oooooh f-fuck," logan groans, "feel that? feel me fucking my cum even deeper?"

you're both lost in pleasure now, and with his stamina you know he's not done yet. he grips your hips, flipping you onto your tummy as he grabs your ass, pulling it up for him. keeping his cock nice and warm inside you, he pauses for a few moments.

"can you take another one?" he asks, panting. he'd never push you past your limits, leaning down against your back to give you a gentle kiss on your neck.

your second release is coming, and though you're exhausted, you need more. "yes," you reply, gripping the pillow as he immediately begins to move.

his head tilts back, his palm sliding down your spine, feeling your soft skin beneath his calloused hand and the sensation of your body bouncing back against him. one hand grips your hip as he begins his movements, slowly fucking you, taking his time.

he knows you're close, and he knows your second release will have him cumming a third time, so he focuses on your pleasure. "that's it baby, taking it so well. . ."

you groan into the pillow beneath you, muffled by the fabric. it all sounds so wet, both your release and his dripping from your aching cunt. you know you'll be sore tomorrow, but who the fuck cares? he's fucking you so good you're not sure you'll ever be able to think clearly again.

he's reduced you to a puddle, wet and begging for more.

"such a good girl for me, lettin' me breed you. . ." his hand trails around your front, tickling down along your tummy until he finds your clit. it's swollen, sensitive, and as soon as he begins to play with you, you're a squealing mess.

he grins against your ear, groaning roughly, "you can take it, know you can, make me cum one more time."

you bounce back against him, feverishly chasing each movement, each time he pounds you sending you spiralling further and further into pleasure.

"gonna fuck a baby into you," he kisses behind your ear, "feel all that cum?"

a whine is all you can manage, sweat causing your hair to cling to your forehead, whole body hot and desperate. all for him, always for him.

"yeah you do, take it," he snarls, huffing as he feels his own release build once more. oh god, this one might destroy him. you feel too good wrapped around him like that, the way your wet pussy takes him in so gladly, cause it's his. you're his.

"'m gonna cum-" you cry, sobbing into the pillow as your thighs shake till you can't take it anymore. you're flat against the bed now, his body behind you, taking, pounding against you relentlessly like a man deprived.

but he can't speak, can only communicate in growls and gasps as he explodes inside you, sending you propelling towards your orgasm. it hits you like a bullet, deep, hard, teetering on painful but quickly replaced with so much satisfaction that your screams sound like howls.

he continues working your clit beneath you, slowing his pace until you're both a sweating, panting mess of limbs.

it takes him a while before he can find words, bringing a hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can see those features of yours he loves so much. "you alright?" logan asks with that rare soft voice he adopts when he's caring for you. his warm baritones make everything better, voice alone better than any sex.

"mh," you nod, world slowly returning to you in bits and pieces. he pulls out of you, taking a second to admire how very full of him you actually are. he can't help but bite his lip at the sight, watching as his cum leaks from your tight hole, fluttering from the loss of contact.

"didn't go too hard?" he asks, carefully and tenderly turning you onto your front as he grabs some spare pillows.

you shake your head, a smile curling on your lips as you bask in the afterglow, loving how sweetly he takes care of you. he lifts your hips with ease, placing some pillows below.

your eyes lock on one another and he grins, "what?" he asks, "said i was gonna get you pregnant, didn't i? gotta keep your hips elevated, keep me inside."

a flush falls upon your cheeks and you laugh breathlessly as he relaxes into the bed beside you, nuzzling into your neck. he fits against you so perfectly, arm wrapping around your waist while he presses gentle kisses to your skin.

but you feel a mischevious smirk tug on his lips against you, "what is it, logan," you ask in a drawl, grin taking over your features.

"well, was just thinkin'-"

"never a good idea, you, thinking. just leads to trouble," you tease.

he scoffs, "shut up," before continuing, "what're we gonna name out third baby?"

your eyes widen, "third?" he must have made a mistake, maybe he's too fucked out to think straight. you know you are.

"yeah," he grins, his hand snaking from your waist to rest on your tummy, giving it a gentle pat, "after this one."

"more?!" you gasp, slapping his hand with a giggle. "logan howlett." ugh, he's the worst.

he loves that reaction from you, he thinks it's cute you assume he's joking.

except, he isn't joking.

"yeah, c'mon, you think i'm gonna be able to stop at just two?"

you flush deeper, feeling his warm palm splay across your stomach as you tilt your chin down to look into his eyes.

"need names. lots of 'em." logan's eyes sparkle, he's trouble, always has been, and you love it. but you start to wonder if you should have bought a bigger house.

"start makin' a list. now."

[textmel8r]

[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( sixth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , mentions of sex

୨୧˚ an; so sorry if anyone asked to be tagged recently and you didn’t get tagged!! tumblr is being screwy again and i can’t see any of my comments😭😭 also apology time from nanami woo hoo!!!

Nanami stole yet another glance at the expensive watch wrapping around his wrist. Your promptness was certainly an issue; how does she show up nearly thirty minutes late to a meeting she called?

And then he scoffs at himself, giving a little shake of the head. Meeting? There he goes again, speaking in corporate tongue.

But finally, you do show up. Bursting through the entrance of the quiet café, making an embarrassing show of noisiness with your heaving breaths and wheezes. Not that it had been much of a disturbance to anyone else—only two other patrons resided in the small establishment; one too engrossed in her book to care, and the other scrolling mindlessly through his cellphone with a pastry in his free hand. Even so, you bashfully clapped two hands together as you peeked around the room. “Sorry!”

The older woman behind the counter nods in appreciation. Nanami can’t help but exhale roughly through his nose in sort of an almost-chuckle. God, you were a mess, weren’t you?

“Sorry, I’m so late!” You approached the table he resumed, one near the front window like you’d asked for. Your heels clopping against the grainy tile, knee-length dress flowing like water around your legs. He stands, walking to the opposite side of the tiny, rectangular table and pulling out the chair for you.

“Impressively late,” Nanami derides, but it’s not full of any malice. Truth be told, he did have the patience of a saint when situations like these were called to question. He didn’t mind waiting, because despite your utter tardiness, he trusted that you'd show up eventually, rather than ditching him altogether and leaving him to sulk in the humiliation of being stood up over a cup of black coffee. You were scatterbrained at times, yes, but dependable? Always.

Nanami returns to his side of the table after pushing your seat in. It wasn't meant to come across as a romantic gesture; Nanami had made it a habit of serving the women in his life nothing but a respectful demeanor. Whether it be lovers, colleagues, friends, and anyone in between. Though admittedly, his behavior towards you these past couple of months has been anything but respectful. It’s too late to start making amends to things, but the least Nanami can do now is try.

You shudder. Flustered, maybe? “Y’didn’t have to do that,” you tell him, placing your phone and clutch bag onto the table.

Nonsense. “My mother would have my head if she knew I let a lady pull out her own seat.” While true—his mother, bless her heart, raised him to be the gentleman his is today—he also just… wanted to do it. It felt right to serve you a seat.

Your elbow slams rudely on the table, finger reaching across to wag in his face. “Sounds like a good woman!” You laugh, and Nanami gingerly swats your hand away. He’s about to say something, but you beat him to the next sentence. “Hey, what gives? I thought this was supposed to be a day of relaxation?”

He worms under the scrutinized glare you wave up and down from his face to neck to chest to abdomen, finally peeking under the table to gawk at his shoes. Nanami curls his toes, a feeble attempt to shrink away from the judgement casted in your eyes. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re dressed in fancy-man clothes.” At that, he takes it upon himself to look down at his wear; an ironed dress shirt clung to his chest, tie resting flat and perfectly centered between his pectorals. His slacks were ashy grey and devoid of any wrinkles, cut and hemmed around his ankles just above those stiff, leather shoes snug on his feet. The matching suit jacket was slung neatly over the backrest of Nanami’s chair, sleeves tucked away into its pockets.

His least expensive suit, sure, but still far too pristine and tidy for a little coffee shop outing. "Is it so bad that I like to remain presentable?" Nanami offers the question while he busies his hands, plucking open the pearlescent buttons at his wrists and rolling back the sleeves off the off-white button down.

"Presentability and discomfort don't always go hand in hand, you know. I mean, look at me," your voice echoes the mocking tone of cockiness, clearly a joke but also not at the same time. With a gesture towards yourself, you beam and shimmy in the simple, breezy dress. It had a floral pattern, Nanami notices. "Cute, stylish, and comfortable."

He isn't jumping to disagree with that. "Sorry, all my sun dresses were in the wash." He surprises himself with the jest, but it has you splitting an unladylike snort, so he doesn't come to regret it.

The toe of a thick, wedged heel jabs into his sock-clad ankle. "You business men are all so sassy." Nanami glowers at the adjective chosen to describe him, but doesn't refute. You sigh. "It's fine, I guess. Nothing we can do about it now. Wear some sweats next time though, would you?"

Next time. There’d be a repeat of this?

“Sure.”

“Great.” Your toothy grin beams over your clutch purse, of which is now wrangled in your grabby hands. Rifling through its unorganized contents, dumping out tubes of chapstick, loose change, and sticks of gum onto the table before fishing out a wallet. “Right, I’m starved. Did you look over the menu any?”

Nanami looked it over five times during the wait, if not for anything other than something to pass time. “Not really. Tell me what you recommend.”

You bite. Rambling about the array of pastries and baked goods that have been worthy enough to be placed in the category of y/n’s favorites. Nanami soaks in your excited, leaning in ever so slightly with open ears a you passionately ramble about cake.

“I take it you come here often?”

The question has you nodding. “Like, all the time man. This is my spot, you should be so grateful that I’m not a gatekeeper.” You look back at the menu once more before verbally deciding: “I want pistachio cheesecake and peppermint tea.”

The man poorly stifles his chuckle, rising from his seat. "Alright then, stay here. I'll go order."

"Oh, okay thanks." You shove your wallet into the wall of Nanami's chest, "take my card with you."

He is bewildered that you would even think he'd let you pay for your own meal. "I've got it," Nanami tells you, gently pushing the leather thing back to you.

"Nanami, stop."

"Stop what?"

"Take my fucking wallet," you gnarr, and he thinks you look much like a soaked kitten in this state of agitation. "Don't make me slap you."

It's an unserious threat, but Nanami plays a long. He raises two thick, blonde eyebrows. "Jesus, okay, you win. Just please keep your hands to yourself.” He revels in your little smirk of satisfaction, snatching your wallet back before making his way to the front counter.

Nanami kindly asked for two slices of pistachio cheese cake and two drinks; for you, peppermint tea, and him a coffee, black. Of course, everything was charged to his card. You didn’t need to know that, though.

You scarfed your portion down with swiftness, slinging spoonfuls of chartreuse custard into your mouth with such savagery that Nanami feared you might choke. He was a much more serene sight, preferring to savor each bite between slow swigs of piping coffee. The dark roast complimented the nutty pistachio flavor stunningly. For such a nameless little eatery, the food was exquisite. He takes another calculated bite of cake.

“You like?” The question was garbled behind a mouthful, cheesecake clinging to your milky teeth as you smiled brightly. A childlike excitement radiated warmly off you, clouding across the table to heat him up, too. It was sweet how wired you were, hopeful that he’d, too, enjoy your choice of confection.

Nanami huffs, amused. “Swallow before you choke.” You make a show of swallowing, a big hearty gulp with your eyes squeezed shut. “And yes, I like it a lot. Your tastes are surprisingly refined.”

“Surprisingly?” You gape, offended.

Nanami wants to crack a quip, something referring to your sub-par taste in men, but this little get together was nice. Yeah, it was really nice, actually. So he refrained from ruining it like the asshole he’d been lately, and drowned the snide remark with another toss of coffee. “Sorry, sorry.”

The remainder of the evening was cushy; you both fell into easy conversation about the randomest of topics. Discussions that never breached corporate subject matter, and he was eternally grateful for that. You spoke in tangents, whistling appreciation for a new movie you caught recently, to describing a long list of bands you enjoy, to lamenting about the headache that your minty iced tea sprang upon you: “Ah, brainfreeze!” Nanami doesn’t add much to the conversation, but he is content to listen and provide little hums of encouragement to urge you to keep talking. His eyes, inquisitive honey-colored things, found your lips and stayed there. Despite the uncouth display in which you carry yourself ( Nanami had been itching to tell you to close your legs, what with the way you sit spread-thighed in your seat donning that dress. So careless and unabashed. If the cafe had been a little more crowded, had a little more men around, and he might’ve slipped his foot over the imaginary boundary line to your side underneath the table and nudged them shut himself ) there was an elegance in the way you spoke about topics of interest. Passion flourished from the little curve of your lips, teeth bared in a great smile because you really were just that happy. Nanami feels envious when he watches you.

“I’m shocked at how well this is going.” You grin cheekily, licking cream from the pad of your thumb. “Kind of makes me sad that we didn’t get off on the right foot, you know? I think we could've been good friends.”

“Is it too late for atonement?” Nanami bites back a frown. “I understand if you can never see me as anything other than an asshole. But I never got to formally apologize for my behavior these past few months, Y/n. And I’d like to, if you’ll let me.” Why was this humiliating? It was a seldom occurrence when Nanami was in the wrong, but he was never one to let his faults drift by unaddressed. You deserve an apology—a proper one, not over measly text messages. Still, he miscalculated how awkward this would be. 

You flail. “A formal apology? Nanami please, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will work. It doesn’t have to be a whole thing, I’m mostly over it anyway.” But that was a lie and an obvious one, at that. You weren’t over it, he could see it in your eyes.

The blonde clears his throat and rubs his hands together mindlessly. “No, please. It’s long overdue, and if we’re going to be working in alliance, then you deserve to feel secure with me.” Though Nanami’s hands wrench restlessly, his gaze never detracts from yours. He bares his sincerity in the intense eye contact, offering a peek into his soul. Vulnerability. “I’ve been nothing but rude and ignorant and vulgar towards you, ever since…”

“That night.” You finish for him. “It really upset you, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess it did.”

“Why? Do you have a revulsion to sex or something?”

“What? Wh—I—No, t-that’s not…” Nanami sputtered, his ears growing warm from your accusation. “I don’t… mind sex?”

You play with the dainty straw flouncing around your drink, seemingly oblivious to Nanami’s flummoxed reaction. “You seem to have a strong opinion of whores, though.”

He groans, embarrassed with himself, and drags a palm down his pallor face. “Who you choose to sleep with does not make you a whore. It never did, I was just being petty and grasping at straws for anything that would get a reaction out of you.” Nanami runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth, inwardly wishing that the mug of coffee before him would turn to water so he could cure the dryness that ached in his throat.

“Why go through the trouble?”

Nanami opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens again, “I don’t know.”

A piss poor attempt at playing the fool. Surely there was a reason for his unabashed cruelty towards you, but what the fuck was it? “Well, when you figure it out, let me know?” To his utter surprise, your expression doesn’t hold an ounce of animosity; you’re smiling at him. Finding humor in any situation had to be your special talent. Nanami nods dumbly. “In the meantime, you’ll just have to start making it up to me. You were a dick, big time.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm,” you make a comical show of humming, touching your index to the point of your chin, and now Nanami knows you’re fucking with him. “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. I guess I can start the forgiving process if…” A pause for dramatic effect? The man raises his brows expectantly. “You and I make this,” you gesture between both bodies at the table, “a weekly thing.”

Nanami was expecting a punishment, but this suggestion was anything but. “I’ll need to take a look at my schedule first.”

“Listen, man, do what you gotta do. But I’m telling you, we are getting together at least once a weekend.” You scrub the corners of your lips with a napkin before crumpling it into a tight ball and discarding it on your empty plate. Nanami looks down at his own to see a healthy portion of his cake left. Wordlessly, he slides his plate across the table, and you accept the offering with open arms. “Oh shit, thanks! Like I was saying, this is fun, what we’re doing here. You’re having a good time, right?”

Sitting in a desolate coffee shop and listening to you prattle on has been the most fun he’s had in a devastatingly long time. “Yes, I am.”

“Good. You look fun-deprived.”

Fuck, I am. “I’m not.”

“Keep lying, I see through them all.” You scoop the last bite of Nanami’s cheesecake into your mouth, sighing with satisfaction and rubbing over your full tummy. “Anyway, I think hanging out would be good for us. Healthy, you know? Besides, I’ve been dying to know what off-duty Nanami looks like.”

He cracks a chuckle. “He’s nothing special.”

Your finger snaps in his face, invading his bubble of personal space, but this time he doesn’t shoo you off. “Another lie!”

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[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 9

SUMMARY: Jake Seresin has been trying to take you home from The Hard Deck for a while. However, there's always been something holding you back. A secret that you can't stand the thought of revealing to him. But when he finally gets you to tell him your secret, his reaction is anything but what you expect. And he lets down the "Hangman" persona you've come to know and you see the softer side of Jake.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know why but I just feel like Jake would be super soft and sweet with you if it was your first time. Sure he's experienced, but he's going to make sure that it's all about you and making you feel good.

PROMPT: "Do you want to take it off or should I do it for you?"

KINK: First Time

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (Simple P in V.)

WORD COUNT: 6.6k

TAG LIST: TAG LIST: @omgbrianabomgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 I @saucy-sassy-sparkly  I  @alipap3  I  @dudinhastuff  I  @lunatygerqueen  I  @hookslove1592  I  @glenpowellluver  I  @missmarveledsblog

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! (I currently have one for Glen Powell & His Characters, One for Bradley/Rooster now, and then a third for WWE/Wrestling. I also can create one for Bucky & other MCU characters if there's interest for more of those characters!)

The Hard Deck was quieter than usual, the lively chatter and music of the jukebox fading as the night went on. Most of the regulars had already left as it was ten minutes to closing time. Penny had just waved her goodbyes, her voice playful as she teased Jake, telling him not to give you any trouble. You smiled at her back as she disappeared out the door, then went back to cleaning up behind the bar.

Jake leaned against it, watching you with that familiar, teasing glint in his green eyes. You were used to the way his gaze followed you, but tonight it felt heavier somehow—more focused. Maybe because there weren’t any distractions or anyone else vying for his attention now that closing time was here.

"You never stop, do you?" His voice was low, amused, cutting through the quiet.

You rolled your eyes, wiping down the bar one last time, trying to ignore the way Jake’s eyes followed you. You looked up from wiping down the counter. 

"Someone's gotta clean up after you guys," you shot back with a smirk.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, but you know I don’t think that’s the only reason you stay late."

You felt the familiar warmth bloom in your chest, the kind that always came when he said things like that. His charm was effortless, but you’d spent months brushing it off. Well, most of the time. Lately, you weren’t so good at it. Because despite the cocky persona, you were starting to see something more beneath it—something softer, more genuine. And that scared you.

Because even though you liked him—maybe more than you cared to admit—there was one thing you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to tell him.

You shot him a look, half playful, half warning, as you tossed the towel onto the counter. "I mean this is my job and I have to stay until closing no matter what. But…humor moe. What’s that supposed to mean?"

He leaned forward on his elbows, his grin widening. "Just that we both know you don’t mind me hanging around."

Your heart fluttered despite yourself, but you forced a smirk. "You always got a line ready, huh?"

"I don’t need lines with you, sweetheart. I think you know that."

You let out a breath and shook your head, feeling your heart race. "You should get going, Seresin. Penny might’ve been joking, but I’m not in the mood to deal with you tonight."

Jake smirked, but there was a gentleness in his gaze. "Or you could stop pushing me away, darlin'. It's been months, and I think we both know this little game of yours is starting to wear thin." His words were soft, but there was no mistaking the desire behind them.

Before you could respond, Jake walked around the bar. You felt your pulse quicken as he crossed the threshold, coming into your space—so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. He didn’t touch you right away, just stood there, eyes tracing your face as if memorizing every detail.

"Jake," you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out softer than you intended.

He was standing so close now that you had to tilt your head back slightly to look up at him. His eyes, those piercing green eyes, locked onto yours, and you felt the tension building, thickening the air between you.

He leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Tell me to stop, and I will," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with desire.

You swallowed, heart racing, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you let the moment hang there, the pull between you undeniable. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you sucked in a breath, torn between wanting to push him away and pull him closer.

"I should—" you started, but the words faltered as he stepped closer, his body now inches from yours.

"You should what?" Jake whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Keep pushing me away? Or finally let me in?"

His hand slid down to your waist, his thumb grazing the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was such a small touch, but it sent heat flooding through you. You had been playing this game with him for months—keeping him at arm’s length, pretending his advances didn’t affect you. But here, now, in this quiet moment with the bar empty and the lights low, you could feel your resolve slipping.

Jake tilted your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Stop pretending you don’t feel this too."

And before you could second-guess yourself, before you could find another excuse to push him away, you surged forward, closing the distance between you. Your lips met his in a heated, desperate kiss, months of tension spilling over all at once.

Jake wasted no time, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you flush against him. His lips were warm, demanding, and you matched his intensity, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed closer, wanting more, needing more. It was as if all the weeks of flirting and teasing had built up to this moment, and now that the dam had broken, neither of you could hold back.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Jake rested his forehead against yours, his voice rough. "Let me take you home tonight."

Your heart was racing as Jake’s words hung between you. Let me take you home tonight. His voice was thick with desire, and his forehead was still resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

But as the reality of what he was asking set in, a rush of nerves flooded through you. You pulled back slightly, creating space between your bodies. Jake immediately noticed the shift, his brows knitting together in confusion as you stepped away.

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. 

His hand remained on your waist, though gentler now, as if he was afraid you’d slip away entirely.

You shook your head, trying to steady your breathing, but the words were stuck in your throat. 

He waited, watching you carefully, his expression softening as he searched your face for an answer.

“I don’t… I don’t do that,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake frowned, clearly misunderstanding. “What, a one-night stand?” His lips quirked into a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Darlin’, I’ve been chasing you for months. This isn’t just some one-time thing.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. He wasn’t playing around, and you knew it. But that wasn’t what this was about. You looked away, biting your lip as you tried to find the courage to say what had been weighing on you all this time.

He tilted your chin up gently, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Talk to me,” he urged, his voice low but patient. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability of the moment making you feel exposed in a way you hadn’t expected. The tension between you had always been playful, teasing, but this… this was different. This was real. And the fear of disappointing him was almost overwhelming.

“Jake…” You hesitated, the words thick on your tongue. “I’ve never been with anyone. In that way.”

The weight of your confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of how he might react. But when you finally dared to glance up, you saw something unexpected in his eyes.

There was no judgment. No disappointment. Just understanding.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, grounding you as he took a step closer. “You mean you’re—?”

“A virgin,” you finished for him, your voice barely a whisper.

Jake exhaled softly, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed what you’d said. Then, to your surprise, he let out a small, almost incredulous laugh—though it wasn’t mocking. It was more like he couldn’t believe the situation. “You thought that’d make me walk away?”

“I just thought…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. The truth was, you didn’t know what you had expected. Maybe that he’d see you as some kind of challenge, or that he’d decide it wasn’t worth it. “You’re… you. And I know you’ve been with… other people.”

Jake’s smile softened as he shook his head, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Yeah, I’ve been with other people. But none of them were you.”

His words made your heart skip a beat, and before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender, reassuring kiss. “You think I’ve been showing up at this bar every night just for fun? I’m not here for a fling. I’m here because I want you.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. It was so easy to get caught up in your own insecurities, to assume that someone like Jake wouldn’t want you once he knew the truth. But he was still here, still holding you close, as if none of that mattered.

“I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for,” Jake said softly, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with yours. “But if you’ll let me… I’ll talk you through it. We’ll take it slow.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache, and for the first time that night, the nervousness you’d been feeling started to ease. Jake wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pressuring you. He was offering you a choice.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “You’d do that?”

Jake’s smile widened, his green eyes softening. “Darlin’, I’d do anything for you.”

As you and Jake finished closing up the bar, the familiar clinking of glasses and the faint scent of spilled beer lingered in the air. You wiped down the last countertop while Jake stacked chairs, a comfortable silence enveloping the space. But the excitement and nerves bubbling inside you felt electric.

Once the last light was turned off and the door was locked, you stepped out into the cool night air, glancing over at Jake. He stood beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, his casual demeanor making him seem effortlessly charming.

You turned to him, your stomach fluttering with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. “So… what happens now?” You felt a bit awkward asking, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

Jake’s smile was warm and genuine, lighting up his green eyes. “Well, we could go to my place or yours. Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

His suggestion sent another thrill of excitement through you. “I think I’d feel better at your place,” you admitted, recalling the warmth and safety of the last time you were there. “My roommate is home.”

Jake nodded, a knowing look on his face. “That’s cool. I actually got a ride here, so if you don’t mind driving…?”

“Not at all,” you replied, leading the way to your car, your heart racing with the prospect of what the night might hold.

Once inside, you fished your phone out of your bag and shot a quick text to your roommate, letting her know you wouldn’t be home tonight. Just as you hit send, her response buzzed through, and you groaned at the barrage of messages that followed.

Your car’s Bluetooth connected automatically, and suddenly, your roommate’s messages began to read out loud in the car. 

“‘Where are you? Who are you with? Are you with the sexy blond pilot from Texas you’ve been talking about?’”

“Are you serious?” you muttered under your breath.

You rolled your eyes, your face flushing with embarrassment as Jake chuckled beside you. “So, am I the sexy blond pilot from Texas you’ve been talking about? Or is there someone else I should know about?”

“Yes, you are,” you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if you were flustered or exhilarated, the thrill of the moment mingling with your nervousness.

Jake grinned, a teasing glint in his eye. “I like that title. It has a nice ring to it.”

As you pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, you couldn’t help but glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He was relaxed, leaning back against the seat, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Don’t worry. I promise not to embarrass you too much in front of your roommate when I meet her.”

You glance over for a second. The “when I meet her” is not being lost on you. He was so confident that this was something more than it seemed like it was. That there would be more times he went home with you. That there would be a point where you introduce him to your friends.

“It’s kind of cute how you get all flustered.”

“Cute?” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, though it was a little breathy. “Is that really the word you want to use right now?”

Jake shrugged, his smirk only growing wider. “What can I say? I’m a fan of cute.”

As you drove through the dimly lit streets, the tension in the car shifted to a more comfortable vibe. You found yourself stealing glances at him, his profile silhouetted against the glow of the dashboard lights, and every now and then, your eyes would meet.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his gaze steady on you, the question sincere.

“Just… this feels surreal,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I didn’t think I’d ever actually go home with someone, especially not someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” he echoed, pretending to be hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, charming, flirtatious, with a history of one-night stands,” you teased, though your heart raced as you said it.

“I’m more than just my reputation, you know.” Jake let out a chuckle, leaning closer as he turned his body toward you. “I promise I won’t be that guy tonight.”

You appreciated his earnestness, and it eased some of your nerves. “What guy are you going to be then?”

“The guy who’s crazy about you,” he said softly, the sincerity of his words hitting you like a warm wave.

You glanced away, your heart pounding, the weight of his confession sinking in. The rest of the drive passed in a comfortable silence, the city lights flashing by as you felt the promise of something more lingering in the air. The only time either of you spoke was when Jake would give you directions on where to turn to get to his off-base apartment.

As you approached his apartment complex, you parked the car and turned off the engine, the moment hanging between you. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for whatever came next.

Jake reached over and gently squeezed your hand, his touch sending warmth through you. “You okay?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze, the tension palpable. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Let’s take it slow, alright?”

As you stepped into Jake's apartment, the familiar warmth and coziness wrapped around you like a hug. The low light from a few strategically placed lamps bathed the space in a golden glow, and the faint scent of cologne lingered in the air. It felt inviting, and for a moment, the nervous energy that had been building since you left The Hard Deck began to dissipate.

Jake closed the door behind you and gestured toward the couch. “Make yourself at home. Want something to drink?”

You glanced around, taking in the soft, comfortable furnishings and the scattered remnants of his life—a few books on the coffee table, a framed picture of him and his fellow pilots, and a small plant in the corner that added a splash of green. “Sure, um… what do you have?” you asked, a hint of nervousness creeping back into your voice.

“Beer, water, or I think I might have some whiskey,” he replied, flashing a playful smile. “I could also make us some fancy cocktails if you’re feeling adventurous.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll stick with beer for now. I think my nerves could use something familiar.”

“Good choice,” he said, moving toward the small kitchen area, and you followed, taking a seat on the couch. The soft cushions cradled you, a welcome comfort. As he grabbed two cold beers from the fridge, you noticed the way his muscles flexed, the effortless grace with which he moved.

He returned, handing you a bottle and plopping down beside you. “So, what do you want to watch?” He reached for the remote, casually leaning back against the couch, his proximity both comforting and electrifying.

You took a sip of your beer, grateful for the momentary distraction. “I’m not picky. What do you usually watch?”

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m a sucker for anything with explosions, but I guess I could put on something less intense for you.”

“Maybe something funny?” you suggested, smiling. “I could use a good laugh right now.”

“Alright, let’s see what we can find,” he replied, scrolling through the options before settling on a comedy special. The familiar sound of laughter filled the room, and as you settled back, you felt the tension begin to ease away.

As the comedy special played on, you found yourself laughing at the jokes, the atmosphere gradually shifting from tense to relaxed. You both exchanged playful banter, the conversation flowing easily between you as you started to feel more at ease.

Jake made a few jokes that had you in stitches, and it felt refreshing to be with someone who made you laugh so easily. The sound of his laughter was infectious, and soon you were both caught up in a lighthearted exchange.

At one point, he leaned closer, his body angled toward yours, and you caught the warmth of his gaze. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few months,” he said, his voice softening, sincerity spilling over the humor. “You’re not like other girls I’ve met.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “You’re real. You don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. I like that.”

A small blush crept across your cheeks at his compliment. “Thanks, I guess,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you.

The air between you crackled with an undeniable tension, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to Jake. He maintained a patient silence, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for a cue. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

After a moment, you gathered your courage, leaning in just slightly, your breath hitching as you closed the distance. Jake's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly in anticipation.

When your lips finally met, it felt electric. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration, but as you melted against him, the softness deepened into something more passionate. Jake’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he responded to your kiss with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine.

You lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the world outside fading into oblivion. The kiss was everything you had imagined—sweet, thrilling, and filled with an unspoken promise.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you found Jake watching you with a mix of admiration and desire in his eyes. 

“Wow,” he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t think you could get any cuter.”

You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment, but the warmth of his body against yours was urging you to take things further. “Maybe we should… do something else,” you suggested your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s smile widened, and without hesitation, he stood, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said, leading you toward his bedroom.

The moment you stepped inside, you felt a rush of anticipation. The room was dimly lit, with a warm glow emanating from a bedside lamp. It felt safe and intimate, the perfect setting for what was about to unfold.

Jake turned to you, his expression serious yet inviting. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, as if he were afraid to push you too far too fast.

You nodded, feeling more confident now that you were here with him. “I am,” you replied, your heart racing with excitement. “I want to be with you.”

He closed the space between you, cupping your face in his hands. “Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

You smiled at him, grateful for his understanding. He leaned in, capturing your lips again in a heated kiss. His hands roamed your back, sending sparks of electricity through your skin, as you melted into him. You could feel the intensity of his desire mirrored in your own, and it filled you with a sense of exhilaration.

With a gentle nudge, Jake led you to the bed, sitting you down as he knelt in front of you. He took a moment to look up at you, his green eyes filled with warmth and something deeper—something that made your heart race.

“Are you really okay with this?” he asked again, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves.

You reached for him, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “I am,” you assured him, your heart swelling with affection. “Just… be gentle with me.”

“Always,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you softly, a world of emotion wrapped up in that one gesture.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, and the weight of your nervousness slowly began to lift. Jake’s hands moved to your waist, guiding you as he joined you on the bed, settling beside you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and inviting.

A wave of heat washed over you at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied shyly, the chemistry between you undeniable.

As the kiss deepened, a surge of confidence coursed through you. With a newfound boldness, your hands slid down Jake's chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it fueled your desire. As you pushed his shirt up, Jake paused, letting you take the lead for just a moment longer.

With a playful smile, he pulled away just enough to shed the shirt completely, revealing his toned torso. Your breath hitched at the sight, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and admiration.

His hands moved to your shirt next, fingers gently grazing your skin as he looked into your eyes, searching for your consent. “Do you want to take it off, or should I do it for you?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach, a thrill at being so vulnerable yet completely safe with him. “You can do it,” you replied, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

With a smile that sent warmth pooling in your chest, Jake carefully lifted your shirt, baring your skin inch by inch. His touch was gentle, and you reveled in the sensation of being exposed to him. Once your shirt was off, he leaned down, kissing a trail down your neck, shoulders, and collarbones, sending shivers through you.

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent waves of anticipation through you. With a deep breath, you caught him off guard by whispering, “I want more.”

Without missing a beat, Jake’s lips found yours again, igniting a fire that burned brighter than before. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your body as he trailed kisses down your chest, pausing to pay attention to every sensitive spot. The way he worshipped your skin made you feel cherished and desired all at once.

With each kiss, your confidence grew, and the nervousness that once lingered began to fade into exhilaration. You melted into him, losing yourself in the sensation of his warmth against you.

Jake’s kisses ignited every nerve ending in your body, and you responded instinctively, arching into him as he continued his exploration. His hands moved expertly, caressing your skin and pulling you closer, as if trying to fuse your bodies into one.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone, and the way he looked at you, with such intensity and reverence, made you feel like the only person in the world.

Feeling emboldened, you reached out, your fingers grazing his jawline before tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you captured his lips once more. The kiss was fervent, passionate, and filled with the promise of everything that was yet to come.

With a playful glint in his eye, Jake pulled back just slightly, his breath hot against your lips. “Just so you know,” he said, a teasing smirk on his face, “this is definitely not a one-time thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter, more alive than ever. “I’m glad,” you replied, your heart swelling with anticipation for what the night had in store.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the heat between you both intensifying. Jake's hands moved with a mix of urgency and tenderness as he helped you slide out of the rest of your clothes. Each piece of fabric that fell away felt like a barrier dissolving, but as you lay fully exposed before him, a wave of shyness washed over you. The vulnerability was overwhelming, and your heart raced with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Jake noticed the change in your demeanor, the way your confidence seemed to flicker just for a moment. With a gentle smile, he leaned over to grab a blanket from the edge of the bed, pulling it up over both of you, as if to cocoon you in warmth and comfort. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes filled with reassurance, “you’re stunning. Just take a deep breath.”

You glanced at him, his presence grounding you even as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. His gaze was warm, filled with a mix of desire and admiration, and it helped ease some of your nerves. But there was still the matter of the not-so-fun conversation to be had.

“Okay, we should talk about… you know,” Jake said, his voice a little more serious as he leaned back slightly, creating a little space. “Protection.”

You nodded, feeling your heart race in a different way now. “I’m on the pill,” you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady. “But I’d prefer it if you wore a condom too.”

Jake’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “Absolutely,” he said, a hint of relief in his tone. “Better safe than sorry.” He leaned over to his nightstand, opening the drawer and retrieving a condom.

You watched as he slid it on with practiced ease, the action both intimate and reassuring. It reminded you that despite the heat of the moment, he was still focused on your comfort and safety.

Once he was ready, he turned back to you, the blanket still wrapped around your bodies. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease, the warmth of the blanket and his presence enveloping you. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… a little nervous.”

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s completely normal. We can take this as slow as you need.”

With that, the nervous tension began to ebb away, replaced by the gentle caress of anticipation. Jake shifted closer, his body warm against yours beneath the blanket. You could feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours, a comforting reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll follow your lead,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any signs of hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded again, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you. “I want you,” you whispered, your voice steady now.

A grin broke out on Jake’s face, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Then let’s make this a night to remember,” he replied, his tone a mix of excitement and reverence.

With that, he closed the space between you, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slow and deliberate. The world outside faded away, and in that moment, it was just you and Jake, ready to explore the depth of your connection together.

As Jake positioned himself at your entrance, a rush of anticipation coursed through you. He paused, looking deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of uncertainty. With a gentle nod from you, he began to slide himself inside you, inch by inch.

The initial sensation was unfamiliar, but it wasn’t painful; instead, it felt like a warm, fulfilling stretch, unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Your breath hitched as he moved slowly, allowing you to adjust to this new intimacy. Jake’s lips found your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone, whispering sweet nothings that made your heart race even faster.

“Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with awe.

You nodded, feeling his warmth envelop you, both physically and emotionally. With each gentle thrust, he slid deeper, filling you completely. The rhythm he established was deliberate, slow, and tender, letting you savor every sensation.

“Tell me how it feels,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you, his green gaze intense and sincere.

“It feels… good,” you breathed out, the words escaping before you could second-guess yourself. 

A smile spread across his face, his confidence mingling with genuine affection. “That’s all I want. Just want to make you feel good. You just tell me if you want me to go faster or if you want me to slow down.”

You shook your head, feeling more confident with every soft thrust. “No, just… keep going.”

Encouraged by your words, Jake adjusted his position slightly, finding a deeper angle. The pleasure built steadily, warmth pooling in your core as he moved. Each gentle thrust sent waves of sensation coursing through you, the connection between your bodies deepening with every moment.

He continued to whisper to you, his voice a mix of reassurance and desire. “You’re doing amazing. Just like that. You’re perfect.”

Jake’s kisses traveled back to your lips, capturing your mouth again in a heated kiss that ignited the spark between you even further. He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, as if he wanted to envelop you completely.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as you felt yourself responding to his rhythm, instinctively moving with him. The sensation of his skin against yours ignited every nerve ending, making you gasp softly between kisses.

“You’re incredible,” Jake murmured, his voice husky and filled with admiration.

His words sent a thrill down your spine. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the sensations he was creating, the warmth radiating from where you were joined. You focused on your breathing, allowing each inhale and exhale to synchronize with his movements, feeling the heat pooling in your core grow more intense.

“Jake,” you whispered, the name barely escaping your lips. You felt more vulnerable than ever, yet there was a thrill in that vulnerability, a trust in the way he held you, as if he were cherishing you.

With a gentle movement, he shifted his angle, and suddenly a wave of pleasure surged through you, almost overwhelming in its intensity. You gasped, feeling the unfamiliar sensation build higher and higher within you.

“Did you like that?” he teased, his breath warm against your neck. He began to pick up his pace, the urgency in his movements matching the rising tide of pleasure. 

You could only nod, too lost in the moment to find the words.

“Good,” he breathed, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I want you to feel everything, to let it all in.”

As he continued to move inside you, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer, silently urging him to keep going.

“You can let go, baby. Just enjoy it,” he encouraged his voice a steady anchor amidst the rising waves of pleasure.

And let go you did. You surrendered to the sensations, allowing each thrust to send you higher and higher, the world outside becoming a blur as you focused solely on the feeling of him inside you, filling you, moving with you.

Your breaths came in shorter gasps, and you felt an unfamiliar tightening deep within you, the unmistakable sign of your impending climax. 

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pleasure, but Jake seemed to sense your body’s reactions.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered, his eyes searching yours for permission. “I want to see you let go.”

With a final, desperate thrust, that wave crashed over you, enveloping you in ecstasy. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room as the world exploded in colors behind your closed eyelids.

Jake followed you, his movements becoming more erratic as he found his release, his body tensing above you, his eyes locked onto yours. In that shared moment of bliss, everything fell away—the doubts, the worries, and the fears—all that existed was the two of you, intertwined in a dance of passion and vulnerability.

As you both rode the waves of pleasure down, Jake collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his heart racing in time with yours. You nestled into him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

“Wow,” he finally breathed, his voice still thick with disbelief. “That was… incredible.”

You chuckled softly, still catching your breath. “Yeah, it was.”

Jake stroked your hair gently, his fingers weaving through the strands. “You okay?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

You nodded, looking up to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I am. More than okay, actually.”

A smile spread across his face, a mixture of relief and delight. “Good. Because that was just the beginning.”

After disposing of the condom, Jake crawled back into bed, the sheets cool against his skin. He noticed you instinctively covering yourself with the blanket, a hint of shyness creeping in after the intense connection you had just shared.

With a soft chuckle, he quickly rummaged through his dresser, retrieving a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Hey,” he called out gently, “you might want to get comfy.” He tossed the clothes toward you, a playful grin on his face.

You caught the shirt and pants, a smile tugging at your lips as you slipped into the bathroom. After changing, you took a moment to compose yourself. The lingering sensations from earlier sent butterflies swirling in your stomach, and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. You glanced at your reflection, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief washing over you.

When you finally stepped out, you found Jake lying in bed, now wearing a pair of sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard, his phone in hand. 

His eyes lit up the moment he saw you. “There you are,” he said, grinning. “Looking good.”

You felt the warmth spread across your cheeks at his compliment. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice soft as you moved to the edge of the bed, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath your fingers.

There was a confidence radiating off him like a warm glow. “How are you feeling?” he asked genuine concern in his gaze.

“Still processing, I think,” you admitted, shifting slightly as you sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket pooling around your legs. “But… I’m really happy.”

He smiled at that, his expression softening. “Good. You should be. That was amazing.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break free. “It was,” you agreed, glancing down at your hands for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but…”

“But?” he prompted, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“But it was better than I ever imagined,” you finished, feeling a rush of honesty.

Jake’s smile widened, and he scooted closer to you, his knee brushing against yours. “I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to feel that way, you know?” He paused, his voice turning serious. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of warmth spread through you at his words. “I know. I trust you,” you said softly, searching his gaze for any sign of doubt. But all you found was sincerity.

“Good,” he replied, his tone lightening again. “So, what do you want to do now? We could order food, watch something ridiculous on TV, or just talk. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the options. “Food sounds good,” you said, feeling your stomach rumble in agreement.

“Alright,” he said, leaning back against the headboard with a playful smirk. “I’ll let you pick. Just know, if you choose pineapple on pizza, I might have to reevaluate our relationship.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “No pineapple, I promise.”

“Whew,” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he had been spared from a terrible fate. “That’s a relief.”

As you reached for your phone to look up menus, you felt the tension from earlier dissolve into the comfortable atmosphere around you. You couldn’t shake the feeling of warmth and safety that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

You exchanged jokes and light-hearted banter, the air filled with laughter. It felt easy, the way it always had, but now there was an added layer of intimacy that made your heart race every time his hand brushed against yours.

“Alright, I think I found a place,” you said, finally breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. “How about tacos? They have really good ones.”

Jake nodded, looking pleased. “Tacos it is. But you have to promise me we’ll get dessert afterward.”

“Deal,” you agreed, your stomach fluttering again, both from the food and the closeness of him beside you.

After placing the order, you settled back into the bed, leaning against Jake as he grabbed the remote. With a few clicks, the TV flickered to life, a mindless comedy playing in the background as you both relaxed.

Every so often, he would glance at you, a soft smile on his face as he made jokes about the show. You could feel the chemistry between you, the tension of the night slowly morphing into something warm and comforting, as if you were both basking in the aftermath of what had just unfolded.

[hyewka]

𝙗𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙢 | c.bg

synopsis: wanting to try a new sexual route with your boyfriend but not knowing how to approach the situation drives you to beomgyu—your best friend since the dawn of time, under the rule of what you call a buddy system.

warnings: sub!gyu, dumbification, basically infidelity but they don’t really fuck, butt plug

tags 🏷️ @b3omitus @beomiracles @bambammtori @jakeslvt @subby-men-forever @iijustread @strwbrryjaem @rikiwaify-blog @yyeonzi @skz-smut-reader @kyuuuie @fairfootedflekk @badwicht @handsomejin25 @itaehynz @soobabby

No matter what angle you look at it, it’s weird. You wouldn’t even think of asking for a favor so indecent if it wasn’t—well if it wasn’t him. And maybe that’s the blaring problem.

“What’ya thinking ‘bout?” Beomgyu muffles, mouth stuffed. You quirk your lip, kicking him under the table. "Don't talk with food in your mouth idiot."

He immediately shuts his mouth, but doesn't miss the chance to retaliate and return the kick, only he aims poorly and hits the table leg instead.

You snort, suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. It takes you right back to when your biggest problem was hiding a bad report card from your then-overbearing parents and trying to find knock-off drug store products to cover your gross pimples.

A simpler time when all you saw was your best friend across from you, wedged into the booth at Shake N Shack, stuffing his mouth with fries, sauce on the edge of his lips as he rants about some latest absurd conspiracy theory he had stumbled upon online.

“So?” he pulls you out of your reverie, looking up at you once he’s finished chewing. His eyes dart nervously between you and his plate as he swallows the last bite when you keep silent. “Why’re you really here? You haven’t been around much lately.”

You scoff, crossing your arms defensively. "I can't just visit you for old times' sake?"

He exaggeratedly winces. "Damn, already demoted to a nostalgia trip?”

You sigh, feeling a pang of guilt despite the lightheartedness in his tone.

You know Beomgyu— like the back of your hand, like the way your favorite song plays in your mind, you know how he hurts and how he likes to cover it up. Ever since you started dating Youngjae, you’ve completely abandoned him, and so his words hit harder than they should.

“You know what I mean,” you mumble weakly.

“Do I?” he replies, tilting his head. “Last I checked, people don’t usually show up at someone’s door at ten-thirty PM during a thunderstorm just to reminisce for “old times sake”. Are you here to drop some kind of plot twist on me? Did you kill someone? Is this an alibi visit?”

You let out a frustrated groan—leave it to Beomgyu to be as annoying as humanely possible as you try to get him to forgive you for your sins. "No, I didn't kill anyone. I just…I’ve been caught up with y'know like...everything and-”

You pause, glancing at your feet as you try to find the right words, the ones that make this moment make sense. You’d gone over this moment in your head a thousand times, but now, in front of him, it all seems so much harder to say.

“And?” he prompts.

“And in the middle of all the stupid exams and projects, I had this epiphany. Like, holy crap, when was the last time I actually saw my best friend? The one person who gets all my dumb jokes, who knows all my weird habits, and somehow still puts up with me.”

His face visibily softens and he nods slowly, picking at the crumbs on his plate. "Epiphany took a long ass time.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Without thinking, you stand up from your seat and walk over to him. He looks up just in time for you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. It only takes him a moment before he completely melts into the embrace, his arms circling your waist. “I missed you, you dork,” you whisper into his hair.

He leans into you, seemingly satisfied. “That’s all I get?” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your shoulder, but there’s no mistaking the smile in his words. “A quick hug after you’ve been ignoring your best friend for, like, forever?”

“You’ll get a little present later, besides you love me too much to stay mad.”

He nestles his head against you, his grip around your waist tightening just a bit. “Yeah, I really do.” he murmurs.

The Buddy System.

You don’t know if that rollercoaster is any good? The Buddy System. Beomgyu can go on it and tell you if he thinks it’s possible for you to ride without throwing up right after. Beomgyu’s feeling squeamish over that plate of food? The Buddy System— you’ll try it out for him and accurately determine whether it’s gyu-gestable or …not. Years of practice has had you know exactly what his picky habits can allow him to consume.

Those are the more normal instances you’ve used it, there were other peculiar times like when Beomgyu asked you to test out the temperature of his bathwater—with your elbow, like you were checking a baby’s bath. He stood there, fully clothed, watching you as you leaned over the tub, dipping your elbow into the water with the seriousness of a professional thermometer. “Too hot,” you’d say, adjusting the faucet until he gave a nod of approval.

Actually, now that you’re really going over every instance you’ve used it, you think all of the weird ones were Beomgyu’s doing.

Like the time when it was the summer of senior year, the last summer before you went off to college, Beomgyu had recurring nightmares and was convinced that if you fell asleep holding his hand, you’d somehow end up in his dream and could “fix it” from the inside. You tried to explain that dreams didn’t work that way, but he wouldn’t budge. So, there you were, two grown teenagers, lying in a dark room, hands clasped like some kind of paranormal experiment. It didn’t work, of course, but Beomgyu insisted he slept better knowing you were “on the job.”

So therefore…asking this of him would just…even it out, right? Right?

Beomgyu sits up abruptly, causing the carefully arranged pillows to collapse around him, and a few stuffed animals to topple over onto his lap. His eyes are wide, and his voice cracks as he practically yelps, "What?"

Holy shit, who are you kidding.

“This was the little present?”

You shift uncomfortably in the small, now even more cramped space, suddenly wishing you could burrow into the pile of blankets and disappear. “It’s weird, I know, like really weird and it’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought—”

You take a deep breath. “I just—I want to try it with him and—I don’t know, maybe it won’t feel good and-"

“You thought I’d be the one to—” he waves the box around, his voice higher than usual, “—to test this out for you?”

“I mean, buddy system, right?” you offer weakly, your confidence crumbling completely. “We’ve done other things for each other… not like this, but…” your voice trails off as you fidget with the edge of the blanket beneath you.

Beomgyu just blinks at you. And in the long, awkward silence that follows you realize how absurd your request sounds. Hey, can you try out this butt plug for me because my faith in this relationship with my boyfriend is so fragile I’m afraid I might ruin it completely by doing the normal thing of suggesting and exploring different ways of pleasuring each other? Don’t forget that it’s a butt plug! I’m asking you to insert something up in your ass. Up your ass.

The fairy lights cast soft shadows on his face—he’s staring at you, but you’re too caught up in your embarrassment to notice the way his gaze lingers just a little too long, or how eventually, his expression softens.

Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Does he know you’re here?”

You freeze, caught off guard. ���Who?”

“Your boyfriend,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Does he know you’re here? With me?”

“Uh, no… he doesn’t,” you admit, shifting uncomfortably again. “I mean, it’s late, and I just wanted to see you. It’s not a big deal, right?”

Beomgyu swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the stuffed bear in his lap, which seems to be staring back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Yeah… right. No big deal.”

The silence stretches on, thick and awkward, until finally, he lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Okay,” he resigns. “This is, hands down, the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do, but… yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

You blink again, not expecting him to actually agree. “Wait, seriously?” A huge smile breaks across your face as you lean forward, your excitement palpable. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying yes! Oh my god, Gyu, thank you! I thought for sure you were going to think I was crazy and—”

But then, almost as quickly as your excitement flared up, it dims slightly, and you glance at him with a more serious expression. The guilt’s creeping up. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? It’s been a while since we’ve hung out and I mean, I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you or anything—”

"Are you holding a gun to my head?”

“No, but-"

“Then I’m fine,” he says, though his voice softens as he adds, “Seriously, it’s okay. I’ll do it. Who cares.”

You pout looking at your best friend because for the millionth time in your life, you feel that familiar warmth in your chest at the reassurance that no matter what, Beomgyu’s always there to back you up.

“You’re the best, Gyu. You don’t even know it yet, but you’ll probably be responsible for our wedding,” you say, sighing dreamily, “I’ll make sure to shout you out.”

Suddenly, his expression changes. He frowns deeply, and before you can process it, he grabs the nearest plushie—a soft, squishy bear—and hurls it at you with a grumble. “Yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Your mouth falls open at the bear hitting you square in the chest. The audacity! But before you can even think about launching a counterattack, Beomgyu is already on the move.

In one swift motion, he snatches up the pink box, waving it above his head like a white flag of retreat, quickly scrambling out of the fort, the pillows and blankets collapsing behind him in his rush to escape.

You take back everything nice you’ve thought of him thirty seconds ago.

Beomgyu’s cheeks are a bit pink when he comes back twenty minutes later, and you notice it when you look up from your phone, where you’ve been meticulously studying the app’s settings. He looks uncharacteristically bashful, avoiding your gaze as he settles back in with you— the fort looking almost as good as it did before Beomgyu nuked it and ran away.

“Did you put it in?” you ask, trying to gauge his reaction.

He glances at you briefly before quickly looking away, the blush on his cheeks deepening. "Yup. Lubed it up pretty well."

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Did you really, or are you fucking with me?"

Beomgyu's response is immediate, and a little too defensive. "Do you want me to show you my asshole or something? I have it in!"

"God, okay!" you say in exasperation, throwing your hands up in mock surrender.

Your mood takes a complete flip as you grin wickedly, wiggling your phone, the app open and ready. "So... ready for the fun part?"

His eyes widen slightly, and you catch the way his breath hitches as he realizes what you mean. His cheeks flush even more as he swallows hard. "Wait, you're not actually gonna…”

There isn’t any incentive for him to lie but you still don’t fully believe him. You’ve heard that first times have guys struggling a little, he’d be a lot more fidgety than he is now. You narrow your eyes as you glance from your phone to his face, experimentally turning up the setting to its highest volume, just to see if he's really telling the truth.

The reaction is immediate. Beomgyu's eyes widen in shock, and blood rushes to his cheeks, turning him a deep shade of red. His whole body tenses as he grips the blanket beneath him, his breath hitching.

"Hey! Turn it down! It—it-fuck!" he stammers, his voice strained and breathy as he squirms in place.

You quickly dial back the intensity, watching as he takes a few deep breaths, trying to recover. You didn't mean to push him that far, but now there's no doubt in your mind that he wasn't lying. He really did go through with it.

"I didn't think it'd be that intense," you say, genuinely concerned. "Are you okay?"

He hangs his head low, nodding.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction, though you feel a little guilty for pushing him so hard. "Sorry, I just had to make sure."

He gives you a look that's somewhere between a pout and a glare, still clearly embarrassed. "Well, now you know. It's definitely in, and it's definitely working."

You ruffle his head. "Alright, I won't push it any further. Just let me know when it's too much, okay?"

Beomgyu groans, his voice dropping a little, betraying a note of something more than just embarrassment. "Why do I let you talk me into these things?" he mumbles, mostly to himself.

You ignore him, grinning as you observe him, slowly turning up the vibrations to a slow, steady hum. “Notes? How does it feel?”

Beomgyu stiffens, his eyes widening as the first wave of vibrations hits him. "Oh... my god," he squeaks, his voice shaky and a bit breathless. "This is... this is so weird."

You narrow your eyes. “Bad weird or good weird?”

He looks at you, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout, as if he’s not quite sure how to articulate what he’s feeling. “It’s just… weird, okay? Full. Like, not bad but… not normal either. It’s… it’s like—ugh, why are you making me explain this?”

You fold your arms, deciding to push him a little more to get the information that you actually want. “Is it, like, ‘I can get used to this’ weird, or ‘please stop this right now’ weird?”

Beomgyu huffs, clearly flustered. “I don’t know! It’s… kind of both? Like… it’s weird, but maybe kind of good? I don’t know!” He’s squirming now, obviously uncomfortable but not entirely hating it either.

“So…you’re saying you’re into it?” you tease, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin, wiggling your brows playfully.

The words slip out before you can fully think them through, the playful energy between you both making it easy to forget the boundaries that normally exist. Especially considering that you have a boyfriend of seven months waiting at home.

You’re too far gone to care.

His eyes widen even more, his blush deepening as he quickly shakes his head, shuffling away from you a bit. “N-no! I mean… not like that, I just—” His voice trails off, and he swallows hard, clearly struggling to find the right words.

You bite your lip, gradually increasing the intensity, curious. His expression tightens, and a soft, involuntary moan escapes his lips before he can stop it.

"Okay, okay, that's... that's enough!" he says, his voice a mix of panic and something more, his breathing coming out in quick, uneven gasps as he clearly tries to hold himself together.

Interesting.

A slow smirk spreads across your face, “Just a little more,” you coax. “You’re doing great.”

“Fuck, stop teasing me!” he whines, but his voice is breathier now, and there's a definite edge of something more in the way he looks at you, his pupils slightly dilated.

You watch him, the way he tries to keep his mouth in a thin line, a façade that crumbles the moment you notice the way his left leg shakes— you’re intrigued. You've never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so out of control—and it's both unsettling and fascinating. If there’s a possibility this is exactly how your boyfriend would act with something up his ass, you’d spend hundreds on a collection.

You clear your throat, realizing its been silent for too long. “So?”

He’s fast to catch on. “I—I don’t hate it. I think it’s hitting my prost—holy shit, d-did you just turn it up again?”

You hesitate, your gaze shifting away from his. “No…” you mumble, the lie unconvincing even to your own ears. The accusatory stare he gives you is impossible to ignore, burning through your feigned innocence.

Eventually, you give in, sighing in defeat. “Alright, only to a different rhythm. Is it worse? Should I—”

You pause abruptly when you see his reaction. Beomgyu’s eyes tightly screw shut, his jaw clenching and for a moment, you worry that you’ve pushed too far, that this time you’ve actually overstepped. But then he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“If it was worse, you would be pure evil but uh—no, no, it’s okay. It’s… better.”

You can’t let the genuine relief washing over you run its full course because you feel a spark of something more exciting running down your spine. You gulp— the hot, stuffiness of the fort becomes increasingly unbearable by the minute. “Better?”

He nods, though his movements are slow, deliberate, like he's testing the waters before fully committing to his answer. "Yeah... better," he repeats, his voice more certain this time. His eyes flutter open, and a cute, determined face replaces the more bashful Beomgyu you were getting pretty comfortable playing with.

For the second time tonight, an awkward silence overtakes you both and he leans back against the pillows, fiddling nervously with the drawstrings of his hoodie, his fingers picking at the fabric as if trying to find some distraction.

The silence stretches on until suddenly, Beomgyu moves. Without warning, he starts to pull at the hem of his hoodie, yanking it up and over his head in one swift motion.

“Whoa, whoa, what’re you doing?” you blurt out as you watch him toss his hoodie to the side, leaving him in just a thin undershirt. You’re completely caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, the sight of his flushed skin and tousled hair making your heart, for the first time, race.

For …Beomgyu.

He looks back at you, sheepish. “It’s hot,” he says simply.

You blink, still processing. “Yeah, but…” you trail off, realizing you don’t really have an argument. The air’s pretty darn thick and stifling.

“Okay, fair enough,” you say finally, trying to play it off with a casual shrug. “I mean, it is pretty warm in here.”

“…Right.”

You’re acting weird. Even Beomgyu’s noticing. You’re losing the upper hand.

“Uh, th-there’s another setting,” you stammer, quickly looking down at your phone in your hand, avoiding his gaze. “Wanna try it out? To see which one feels better.”

He hums in approval, his response casual, almost nonchalant, like he's confident nothing can catch him off guard.

But that confidence doesn’t last long.

The second you make the switch, his body jolts, a gasp slipping out before he can stop it. “How…how is it?” you ask anyway.

Beomgyu’s response is more of a whimper than anything else, his lips parting as he struggles to form coherent words. “It’s…oh god…it’s—" His voice catches in his throat, and it happens again. Loud and unrestrained. This time, it’s unmistakable.

Beomgyu's eyes widen in horror as the sound leaves his lips, his hand flying up to clap over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle any more noises. His cheeks flush a deep, burning red, and you can see the sheer embarrassment etched into his expression as he tries to hide his face, mortified by his own reaction.

You didn’t plan this. Not at all. But you cannot for the life of you even get yourself to feel an ounce of guilt for the way your underwear uncomfortably sticks to your heat.

Your gaze drops lower, and there it is-the clear strain in his pants, “Uh…Gyu…?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flicker back up to his face.

Your mind is spinning, caught between disbelief and the sudden rush of arousal that floods right to your lower abdomen.

Beomgyu doesn't respond immediately. He's too busy fighting his own body, his breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as he tries to regain some semblance of control. His hand remains firmly over his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as if he's trying to will himself to disappear, to erase the moment that just happened.

It's overly dramatic, of course-classic Beomgyu, always a tinge extra when he's overwhelmed. But instead of finding it annoying like you might have at any other time, it strikes you as incredibly…endearing.

The way his reactions are so genuine, so unguarded, makes him seem almost innocent in a way that tugs at your heart. He looks like a confused, flustered puppy than anything else.

The way he's covering his mouth, is almost comical in its futility-especially when another small, muffled whimper slips past his fingers. “Beomgyu,” you call out, your voice soft but insistent. “I need you to look at me.”

"I-I can't—" he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper as he tries to form coherent thoughts. "This is... it's t-too much..."

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No! Just... I don't know..." he breathes out, his voice strained, as if he's not entirely sure what he's asking for. “Please.”

Something stirs within you, and before you know it, you’re moving closer to him, reaching out your hand to rest on his arm—you think it’d help comfort him. But he only takes that opportunity to bury his head in your neck a few seconds later.

Your heart pounds in your chest but you try to not give it any more attention. You’re supposed to be here for your friend.

“You’re doing so well, Beom,” you whisper, your voice steady and reassuring as you gently rub his arm. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s just us here—you can let go. It’s just me.”

A soft, almost cute whimper escapes him as he nods against you, his breath warm against your skin.

Beomgyu's eyes flutter shut, and you can tell your words are having an effect on him, his resolve crumbling with each passing second, the twitch in his pants making it clear he’s barely holding on. “It’s okay,” you reassure.

Maybe it’s not. But you technically weren’t doing anything physical—it’s not wrong on your behalf, right? But as you rub your thighs subtly, trying to relieve something, that guilt is just as incessant.

You watch the way Beomgyu’s hand moves—hesitantly at first, as if he's not sure what he's doing or if he should even be doing it. But then he turns his head up to look at you, and you’re once again, caught off guard. His eyes look like they’re searching for something, focus shifting from one place to another. And you’re left feeling like you’re under a microscope, until it seems like he found what he’s looking for because his fingers finally brush against the waistband of his pants.

“Are you—are you sure this is okay?” he asks softly. And you nod. Almost too fast.

Maybe you should close your eyes. If not for the respect of the relationship that you’ve completely forgotten of once you had Beomgyu in your arms, at least for your best friend’s pride.

Actually, you don’t think he minds. If the strangled groan that comes out his pretty lips were anything to go by. He fumbles for his hard, aching cock, flinging it out and stroking it furiously almost the second he gets his hands on it and your eyes only manage to widen at the sight.

For lack of better words, you gawk.

“It’s not disappointing or anything, huh?” he tries to joke, but his breaths too strung out, too gone for even that.

Your mouth dries. Far from it.

This is the one time your boyfriend comes to mind in a while, and its not favorable. Beomgyu’s not bigger—he’s not small either, but that’s not your focus—rather the pearly bead that bubbles atop of the tiny slit, the head a deep pink, the way its veins pulses as his pace falters at your silence. That small bead of fluid oozing down his shaft, tracing the lines of the delicate veins. The curves, every little detail. He’s perfect. More perfect than you’ve ever seen.

It seems you took way too long for Beomgyu’s liking and self confidence so he looks elsewhere, “Is…it?”

You blink, almost forgetting your predicament, lost in your admiration of him. "No, no, of course not. It's—it's pretty," you reply, your words tumbling out in a rush as you try to reassure him.

But instead of calming him, your words have the opposite effect. His shoulders shake, and suddenly, he's burying himself back into your shoulder, his hand completely abandoning his cock. "H-hahh-" he pants, his breath hitching as he begins to hiccup, overwhelmed by his emotions.

“Are you—are you crying?”

“You just called my dick pretty,” he seems to sob a bit more at that, soaking your shirt, feeling the dampness spreading across your chest. “You hate it. It looks bad.”

You're at a loss for words, completely thrown by his reaction. You struggle to pry him off you, your hands gently but firmly gripping his shoulders as you try to pull back just enough to look him in the face. "What?! No!" you exclaim, your voice rising with urgency. "Pretty means pretty. Fuck, don't cry, it's perfect, Beomgyu. It looks perfect, I swear."

His hiccups slow as your words sink in, and you can see the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. He sniffles softly, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand, his breathing gradually becoming steadier. As the emotional intensity lessens gradually, you with no control of your own, redirect your attention to his poor cock. It’s rock hard. He looks like he needs some soothing so you think to do the sensible thing. The…right thing?

Beomgyu lets out a small, shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite everything that's just happened. "Man... I think this plug’s really messed with my vulnerability or something," he jokes weakly, his voice still wavering as he tries to regain his composure. “Had me crying pretty fas—"

His rant pauses at a hilt. He meets your gaze as you fully wrap your hand around his shaft after he just witnessed you quickly spit on your palm.

He doesn’t question it. At all. In fact, the moment your hand’s on him, there’s no hesitation in the way he spreads his legs wider, his pants responsively moving down to pool around his ankles.

A soft, whiny sound escapes him, and he leans into your touch, his eyes drooping, face contorting cutely. “O-oh…I…I..”

“Shhh, I got you pretty,” you whisper. His cock’s soft to the touch, and wet. When you glide your hand up and down, even slowly, it makes an unpleasantly wet, dirty sound.

He’s very reactive to the endearing nickname that feels almost too natural slipping out of your lips of all people. “P-pretty..” he repeats, sighing, almost dazedly. A complete goner.

You squeeze him and he lets out another needy, low moan and wraps his arms around your waist. Your heart pounds at how clingy he is, it feels like it’s about to burst. "Ahhh...f-fuck…” He moans against your neck, a highly pitched sound only a woman could make, feeling a trail of saliva traveling down from the corner of his mouth.

You almost cum untouched at the sight of him, at the pretty, almost perfectly described as heavenly sinful sounds he’s making. A sheen of sweat has formed on his forehead, his hair damp at the edges, and it somehow makes him look better.

His body tenses beneath your touch, you can feel the warmth of his skin, the sweat slicking his brow, and the way his breath catches in his throat. Then, suddenly, he lets out a choked cry, his voice breaking as he bucks his hips just slightly. The movement is involuntary, desperate, as if his body is moving on its own, seeking out the final bit of friction it needs.

And then it happens.

Beomgyu gasps sharply, his body going rigid as he reaches his peak. He shudders violently, his chest heaving as he shoots strings of his load, the warm, sticky fluid spilling out. You react quickly, instinctively guiding the release towards him, watching as it lands all over his tummy and a bit on his chest.

You're struck by how quickly it happened—how you'd only had him in your hand for a few seconds before he came. His chest heaves, his breathing ragged and uneven as he slowly comes down from the high.

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of his breathing, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady himself.

Finally, he looks down at the mess on his stomach and chest, a soft, almost sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

And for whatever reason, that has an effect on you. He looks so endearing in this moment—his lips slightly parted, his lashes brushing against his flushed skin, his hair perfectly tousled and falling over his eyes—

You're completely lost in the sight of him, practically mesmerized by how perfect he looks and your mind starts to drift until suddenly his voice breaks through your thoughts.

"Did you hear me?" he asks. "Doofus, turn it off. It's starting to make my asshole sore."

Your romantic daze shatters like glass.

Blinking rapidly, your face transforms into a shocked scowl, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. "Wait, what?" you stammer.

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at you, clearly expecting a response. But as the moment stretches on, your brain lags behind as you try to process what he just said.

Then it clicks.

"Oh, right!" you gasp, fumbling with your phone as you quickly find the app and turn off the plug, mortification creeping up your spine. What an absolute bust.

a/n: well well well. in the first draft he was made to eat his own cum but i felt maybe this fic wasnt the one for that😊😊 Unfortunately for some, fortunate for others🤔 anyway tell me how u enjoyed beomgyu getting his ass stimulated in a poorly made fort lol

[solarmorrigan]

Like You've Seen a Ghost

For the @steddie-spooktober day 6 prompt: Haunted Rated: T | Words: 1348 | CW: brief descriptions of blood and gore, mentions of past head trauma | Tags: pre-relationship, modern AU, ghost hunter Eddie, ghost whisperer Steve, Steve Harrington has head trauma Divider credit: @saradika

“So… are you getting anything yet?”

“Not really.”

“Well, which way should we go?”

“It doesn’t really work like that, man. I don’t sniff out ghosts.”

“Well forgive me for not knowing how your whole ‘I see dead people’ shtick works.”

Steve glances over at Eddie in the low light of the long hallway. He looks just as grumpy as he has since it had been suggested that he and Steve pair up to check the third floor of the hotel – supposedly the most haunted part of the building.

“You don’t believe I can see dead people at all,” Steve says, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“What, could you sense that, too?” he snarks.

“Nah.” Steve shrugs. “I heard you talking to Gareth and Jeff about it.”

At that, Eddie has the decency to look a little sheepish; he hadn’t had the most flattering things to say about Steve in that conversation.

It had been the rest of the team—Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver—who had pulled for this little team-up as a sort of special episode for their YouTube channel; Eddie had been against it from the start. He’d insisted that their viewers expected supernatural investigations based on scientific techniques and equipment, not some fake psychic (charlatan, actually, had been the word he’d used) who takes people’s money and pretends to see their dead relatives.

(Steve, for the record, does not take anyone’s money. Whether or not he sees someone’s dead relatives, he does it for free.)

“Uh… look…” Eddie starts, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“It’s fine, man, I get it,” Steve brushes off what likely would have been a very awkward apology. “You can’t do what you do without a healthy dose of skepticism. And it’s not exactly like I can explain it; it just kind of happens. But I promise that when or if I see a ghost, I’ll tell you to get your camera.”

“Right,” Eddie says quietly, turning back to the gadget in his hands (some of it had been explained to Steve, but he won’t pretend he knows just what the hell kind of science goes into ghost hunting).

They fall into a stilted sort of silence, Eddie scanning their surroundings with whatever it is he’s holding and Steve keeping his eyes peeled for signs of ghostly activity. He can’t say he’s thrilled to be spending the night with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be with him, but it’s really no skin off his nose if Eddie doesn’t believe in his abilities; Steve isn’t Tinkerbell, he doesn’t run on the belief of others.

He hadn’t really even meant to become– well, not famous, but maybe internet famous, at least. He’d just figured that as long as he had the ability to see and speak to the dead, he could use it to put other people’s minds at ease. People who worried about their dead loved ones, or people who were being terrorized in their own homes. Sometimes Steve could put spirits to rest. Sometimes all he had to do was tell someone that their dearly departed whoever was nowhere to be found and must be at peace.

It had sort of snowballed after one person he’d helped had told another, who’d told another, who had the ear of someone with a reasonably popular podcast, who had wanted to talk to Steve, and suddenly Steve had been getting calls for other interviews, for “psychic” investigations, and, apparently, for team-ups with some well-known ghost hunters.

“What did happen?” Eddie asks, breaking a little sharply into the silence.

“What?” Steve looks back over at him.

“You said it just kind of happens. So have you always been like this, or…?”

“Oh. Yeah, no, I got hit really hard in the head,” Steve says.

Eddie stops walking, and now he’s the one staring at Steve. “You what?”

“Got hit in the head.” Steve knocks at his temple for emphasis. “It was… pretty bad. Apparently, they thought I was dead for a minute there. But I lived—y'know, obviously—and now I get really bad migraines and I see dead people.”

“How does that even work? Like – did you cross over, or some shit?” Eddie asks haltingly, like the words are unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Couldn’t tell you. I’ve always kind of thought of it like an old TV set,” Steve says. “My grandparents had one when I was a kid, and it didn’t get great reception, but if you smacked it in the side, sometimes it would find a channel. So, I got hit hard enough that I changed channels, I guess. Now I can see things on frequencies other people can’t.”

“Shit, man,” Eddie says, blinking at Steve. “That’s actually pretty metal.”

“Thanks?” Steve shrugs, starting up their meandering walk down the hallway once more.

“I just mean, like – must make for a good story to tell, right?” Eddie tries.

“Oh, yeah. Head trauma, it’s great for dinner conversation,” Steve drawls, and Eddie winces.

“Sorry, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine, I’m screwing with you.” Steve knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s; it isn’t that Steve hadn’t been fucked up over the fight with a local bigot and bully that had nearly killed him, but that had been a while ago, now. Steve’s processed, made his peace with it – even gotten something kind of useful out of it. He’s fine. (Like, most days. Most days, he’s fine.)

Eddie rolls his eyes, but there’s also a little smile tucked into the corners of his mouth. It looks nice there – better than the snide look of disbelief from before. Whether or not Eddie does believe him now, Steve likes that he put a smile on his face.

“Hey, we’re coming up on room fourteen,” Eddie says, nodding to a door at the end of the hall.

“And that’s the super haunted one, right?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” Eddie reaches out as they approach, turning the knob. “Story goes that a husband and wife were staying in this room, way back when the hotel first opened in the 20s, and the wife pocketed a knife from dinner, waited until the dead of night, and stabbed her husband to death in his sleep before slitting her own throat.”

The room that the door opens into is far more unassuming than the gruesome tale would have had Steve believe. It’s decorated in the vintage style maintained throughout the whole hotel, kept clean and guest-ready, but there’s something – heavy about it. Something Steve can’t quite put his finger on. He approaches the bed; he can’t imagine it’s the same mattress there from the 1920s, but he does wonder if it’s the same bedframe.

The heavy feeling is getting stronger.

“Why did she do it?” he asks, glancing around the room; he doesn’t see anything, not yet, but there’s still something–

“No one knows for sure,” Eddie says, breezing past Steve and plopping right down on the bed, bouncing a little as he sits. “Some people say he had been abusing her and she’d finally had enough. Some say he was cheating, and she was jealous. Some say she just lost her fuckin’ marbles.”

“What, just like that?” Steve asks, still glancing around warily.

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs. “Hey, maybe if the lady’s ghost is still hanging around, you can ask her.”

Steve turns back to Eddie, and the comeback dies on his tongue.

There, kneeling up on the bed, right behind Eddie, is the wife.

It can’t be anyone but her, crimson stains running down the front of an old-fashioned nightgown, blood still oozing from the gaping wound in her neck, the knife clutched in her hand glinting silvery and slick red as she stares down at Eddie in a way that Steve doesn’t like one bit.

“Eddie,” Steve says, slowly reaching for the other man.

“What?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed as he clocks the change in Steve’s demeanor.

Steve grabs him by the arm and yanks him up, maneuvering himself until he’s standing between Eddie and the bed – between Eddie and the ghost.

“You might want to get your camera.”

[cherrysnip]

just that — chwe hansol

pairing: vernon x afab!reader

prompt: "are you guys dating?" or that one time you strongly denied your relationship and he got sulky(?)

a/n: another fic for my fave secret dating x brother's bestfriend trope >.<. this was initially posted on another site before i decided to take it down and let it sit on my drafts for a year lol.

It was already two in the morning but you were still wide awake. With all the things you have done the whole day, it was expected that everyone, including you, would doze off as soon as you get on your beds. Unfortunately, you didn't.

The guilt that has been consuming you since earlier is what's actually making it hard for you to sleep. You had been rolling on the bed too many times as if that would help ease the regret you had been feeling (spoiler alert: it didn't).

When you arrived at your vacation house this morning, you and Vernon had tried to be as discreet with your relationship as possible. You going on a trip together wasn't a new sight, anyway. Vernon and your older brother, Wonwoo had been friends since freshmen year of college so the former is usually invited in times like this and so you both thought you could just let this three days pass without anyone knowing what you really have. However, it seemed like Wonwoo already had a hint about it and had been watching you the entire time. And alas! While you were having dinner, the million-dollar question was finally dropped.

"Are you guys dating?"

Vernon was about to answer but you suddenly panicked and was the one who replied instead, "Of course not. He is just like an older brother to me!"

As soon as you said it, you already wanted to take it back. But it was too late. Vernon may not have said a word but the disappointed look on his face spoke volumes. After that, you avoided each other for the rest of the night.

To be honest, this had been a subject of your arguments a couple of times before. Vernon wanted to tell your friends and families that you have been together for four months already but you're against it. It isn't because you were embarassed about your relationship or afraid that your family would say something negative (if anything, they're very very supportive). It's just that you wanted to enjoy the privacy you had without others minding your business, especially your brother Wonwoo who had been protective of you since your fallout with Joshua, even though it had been years and you have already moved on. He's also the reason why your past suitors had immediately scrammed away after going through the interrogation stage.

"Stop scaring them, will you?" You remembered complaining one time but your brother just shrugged.

"If they get scared of me and give up that easily then they're not really willing to fight for you. People like that are not worth it."

You knew you brother means well but sometimes you just want him to tone down the scare meter a little bit. Because if this continues, you might end up being single for the rest of his life.

But then, Vernon happened.

You already knew who Vernon was since he was a senior in high school. Vernon lives alone because the rest of his family is in another country. That's why when he gets a weekend off from the university, he would tag along with Wonwoo to your house to hang out. He is basically a part of your family now. However, the both of you didn't really got the chance to talk to each other because you were busy studying and usually just stays in your room the whole day when Vernon visits.

That set-up lasted for months until your first day in college. Wonwoo was supposed to give you the tour but had to cancel since he had to attend to something urgently. Of course, knowing you would whine about it nonstop, Wonwoo sent another person to guide you.

It's none other than *drum rolls please*, his best friend, Vernon. Surprise, surprise!

"Hi," that was just the first word that Vernon said to you (while sporting that smile that YOU swear would actually make anyone melt if possible), but you already knew you would fall for him. HARD.

You wouldn't admit it at first. The guy's nice (and freaking handsome and hot too) but you didn't want to give meaning to that kindness because you thought Vernon might just be doing it because you are his bestfriend's sister. However, it wasn't easy to supress the feelings when every time your eyes meet or when you smile at each other, butterflies would fill your stomach.

Not to mention, Vernon would also never forget to buy you your fave Iced Americano every chance he gets.

Luckily, it isn't a one-sided affection. Because apparently, Vernon is feeling the same towards you. The confession was nothing grand but for you, it was romantic and perfect.

It was in the middle of the crowd, during the Music Festival as your university's resident band was playing Enchanted by Taylor Swift, when Vernon looked at you directly in the eye and told you, "I like you so much y/n. I know this might be too sudden for you but I've been keeping this for a while and I just want to let it out. It's alright if you won't like me back ---"

"Shut up. I like you too," You replied while chuckling. You found Vernon blabbering cute because most of the time when you're together, you did the most talking and he would just agree and smile at you every now and then.

That was also the night that your relationship became official.

What followed was the happiest four months of your life. But now you're afraid that it would be cut short if you won't reconcile with Vernon as soon as possible.

You weren't able to take it anymore so you finally got up and carefully tiptoed as you went out of the room. You were just about to go to the next room but you heard a soft mumbling sound from the living room. That's when you realized that someone other than you were still up and is watching the television.

At first, you thought it was your brother but when you saw the brown hair peeking on the couch's headrest, it was a confirmation that it was him—your boyfriend.

Biting your lower lip, you walked towards Vernon who still haven't noticed that you were there. It didn't seem like he was focused to what he was watching, he was more like 'spacing out".

"Nonie?" You called softly and poked at Vernon's arm. The latter automatically looked up to you and blinked multiple times, probably making sure if you were really there or just his imagination.

"Why are you still awake?" Vernon reached for your hand and squeezed it lightly. You resisted yourself from crying because of how sweet your boyfriend is right now when he should be mad at you.

"I'm sorry about earlier," you said but Vernon shook his head.

"I should be the one saying sorry, babe. I told you I would respect your decision but I still acted up."

"But I know you're upset about it, Nonie."

"No. A little disappointed, I guess. I just don't want to hide anything anymore, especially our relationship. I don't want this to stay like a dirty secret because it's not."

You nodded and came over to sit on Vernon's lap. Your boyfriend was obviously taken aback but he just let you be eventually. He even encircled his arms in your waist to pull you closer.

"Okay. We'll tell them tomorrow."

Vernon's eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"

"Why are you so surprised?" You let out a laugh. "Are you still not ready?'

"Of course, I am. I've been preparing for it for months,"

"So you're not scared of Wonwoo-oppa?"

"As my friend, no. But as your brother, yes. I can even imagine him strangling me the second he finds about us."

You both knew that's far from Wonwoo's personality so he would most likely not do that but who knows? It could be worse.

"You'll be fine, Nonie. But if ever you get broken bones, don't worry, there's a nearby hospital, we can just--aw" you tried teasing him but Vernon was already pinching your nose before you could even finish your sentence.

"You're lucky I would do anything for you."

—♡—

[lampmeeting]

Just a couple weeks until the end of September, so you know what that means!

Kloktober is almost upon us! 🎃🦇

What is Kloktober?: An incredibly zazzy event taking place in October where we celebrate all things Metalocalypse. There’s a prompt for every day of the month to interpret as you see fit! Draw, write, cosplay, make memes, whatever you like - all forms of participation are welcome!

How do I participate?: Make your totally brutal creation inspired by the day’s prompt and post it using the tag #kloktober2024 - it’s just that simple! Post it here, post it to Twitter, post it to AO3, post it to Instagram, wherever you usually post your creative stuff!

But am I allowed to–YUP, ANYTHING GOES! There are no wrong answers during Kloktober! ✨ However you decide to interpret a prompt, it's valid! If you only want to do a few days, or even just manage to do one, that’s also completely valid. Please don't burn yourself out or stress, this is for fun!

What if I don't vibe with one of the prompts? No worries! If there's a prompt that doesn't suit you, please feel free to reach back in time and choose a prompt from a previous year's Kloktober (2023, 2022, 2021, or 2020). And as always, if you have any questions about anything, hit me up!

(plain text version of the prompts are below for anyone who needs them!)

your favorite character

your favorite relationship

horror movie crossover

dressed to kill

use a self-insert or OC

road trip or drug trip

furryklok or demonklok

a favorite headcanon

use someone's parents

bravery or cowardice

inspired by your culture

tattoos or piercings

create-a-skwigelf

use a Halloween treat

one year after AOTD

costume party or sleepover party

use the ghost of a dead character

palling around with another band

what if they never got famous?

Abigail Appreciation Day!

use two character who never met

too much booze or too much sugar

Dethklok as a different music genre

fix them or make them worse

inspired by a metal song

post-apocalypse or cyberpunk

bring back a one-off character

conspiracy theory or propaganda

birthday or funeral

HALLOWEEN!!!

YOUR choice!

[runninriot]

Could've Been You

written for @steddiemicrofic

prompt: shower | wc: 399 | rated E | cw: accidental voyeurism, sexual content | tags: pre Steddie, confident Steve Harrington, Steve/OC (past), Eddie has a crush on Steve, Steve wants Eddie

Eddie doesn’t know why he’s here. It’s not even a party, just a bunch of college students getting wasted, playing stupid drinking games.

"Never have I ever... had sex in the shower" someone says and Eddie feels suddenly sick.

Out of the eight people playing, only one lifts his drink, followed by a chorus of wolf whistles and- all Eddie can do is stare.

The guy drinking is Steve. And the problem is, Eddie knows he’s not faking it.

Because he saw it.

Tried to forget about it ever since, jerked off to the image more times than he can count.

He didn’t mean to watch. It was an accident. He was just minding his own business, already half asleep because it was fucking late, way past the time he expected anyone in the dorms to still be up.

But there they were, barely hidden behind a half open curtain, the noises leaving no doubt about what was going on.

Eddie wanted to leave, wanted to turn around and get the fuck out of there, but his eyes were glued to the scene and his legs wouldn’t move, so he stayed. And he watched.

Saw Steve leaning against the shower wall, one leg hooked over a guy’s shoulder who was down on his knees, mouth busy sucking Steve’s cock while pumping two fingers into his hole.

“You good Munson?” Someone asks but Eddie barely registers it, wordlessly stands up and leaves.

Out in the hallway, he feels like he can breathe again until a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Hey, are you okay? Your face is all red."

Of course, it’s Steve.

"Y-yeah no. I, uh, just wanted to smoke," Eddie stammers.

"Good. Because for a moment I thought you were ashamed."

"A-ashamed? Why would I-"

Steve’s suddenly so close, his lips brushing his ear as he whispers

"Did you like the show? Did it make you hard? Did you touch yourself to the memory that night?"

Eddie’s souls leaves his body.

"I-I’m sorry! Please, don’t be mad!"

Steve must think he’s a fucking pervert. But why is he smiling like that?

"Could’ve been you, you know. I would’ve let you fuck me against the tiles."

Eddie must be hallucinating.

“Or you could just take me to your room and fuck me there.”

But if this is a fever dream, he might as well just go for it.

[golden-ebony]

Man Eater (1) 𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Series Masterlist ♡

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/Fem!Vigilante!Reader

♡ Word Count: 4.4k

♡ Rating: Mature (but any additional parts may be explicit)

♡ Warning/Tags: suggestions of child/adult abuse (no detail), mentions of violence (little detail), mutant/vigilante reader, suggestive language, Logan being a lil flirty menace (i love it)

♡ Summary: Leaving your past behind is never easy; teasing Logan makes it tolerable

♡ Note: reader has the same power as Diego from Umbrella Academy which I just summarized as projectile manipulation. also! this is a plotline i've fiddled with for years across different marvel characters and i finally found a way to make it work! i'd expect more parts because it'd looovvvve to tease Logan

Logan stood out of apartment 404 of a modern apartment building. Given the fact that Charles told him to come here to retrieve what he had described as a vigilante who could use some guidance. Yet, he was surprised to see such a dangerous person living in such a swanky place. It was none of his business, he thought.

He pounded on the door. No one answered. He groaned, pounding the door again, “Hey! Anyone home?” He heard the slightest of footsteps before hearing a voice.

“I’d be careful about pounding on a stranger's door,” you called back in a short tone. A woman, Logan thought.

“Oh, why’s that?” Logan scoffed, folding his arms over his chest.

You cocked your shotgun loudly enough for Logan to hear. You aimed it toward the door, “You never know where you might find trouble.”

Logan lowly chuckled to himself. He went to open the door; to his surprise, it was unlocked. He slowly pushed it open. There stood you, a double-barrel shotgun aimed toward Logan’s head. “Trouble, yeah?”

He glanced at you, not intimidated by the shotgun as he didn’t even attempt to move from the line of fire. You didn’t back down, still aiming the gun at his head, “Not scared of a little lead between your eyes?”

Logan closed the door, assuming you didn’t want your fancy neighbors seeing you about to gun down a man. Couldn’t bear to splatter his brains onto the community hallway. “Lead? Nah, I’ve dealt with a lot worse.” he smirked, casually leaning against the door.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction; no one came to your door. Ever. You took a deep breath, tilting your head in curiosity with the man in front of you. It was never your intention to know him, but you did. You slightly lowered the gun, “You're like me.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Depends. What’cha mean by that?”

“I mean what I mean.”

He sighed, his breath dripping with annoyance, “Kid, I don’t do riddles. Spit it out before you piss me off.”

“You, Logan, are a mutant,” you spat while completely lowering your gun further. You knew you didn’t have the firepower to take him down. “The Wolverine.” Your voice was song-like as you teased him with an eye roll.

He was surprised by your blunt answer; he was even more surprised by the fact that you knew what—who he was without any additional prompts. He chuckled in mild disbelief, “What? You a telepath or something?”

You chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest, “No…but Stryker used to talk about you allll the time,” you teased, striking a deep nerve in Logan.

His fists clenched as he stood up straighter. He appeared defensive as if this was all an elaborate set up by Stryker somehow. If it wasn’t Charles that had sent him, he would have let his mind go there. Yet, it didn’t feel like Charles sending him to this apartment was a coincidence either. Still, looking at you, you looked too young to be around when Stryker was at his peak.

“You know Stryker? How old are you?” By his demanding tone, you knew Logan wasn’t messing around anymore.

You leaned against the arm of the couch, “The only thing Stryker loved more than having mutants do his bidding was perfecting his soldiers,” you bit the inside of your cheek to maintain your composure, “but you? Ohh, you were his favorite. You broke the mold and all he wanted to do was put that perfect mold back together.” You spoke with a disdain that Logan couldn’t figure if it was directed towards Stryker or him. His gut was telling him both.

“I was only sixteen when Styker found me. He called me his best gun.”

That piqued his interest, “Why’s that?”

As Logan finished his sentence, you threw a spear point knife in Logan’s direction. Before he had a chance to react, the knife banked left into a wooden board hanging on the wall. Logan approached the small board, seeing the multiple knife marks wedged into it. It was out of place compared to the pricier art work that adorned the walls. He huffed turning back to you.

“You control metal, too?” he snarked, hoping Charles didn’t send him to find the second coming of Erik.

“Projectile manipulation—knives, bullets, really anything that’s airborne,” you explained. “But that isn’t enough for Stryker…I can’t explain how he did it, but he was hellbent on making me practically immortal…kinda like you. It took him a couple of years. The trials were…” your voice drifted off as the pang of dread filled your chest. 

Logan felt for you, imagining you at sixteen under the oppressive thumb of Stryker. Your eyes wavered from his for the first time. Although Logan was probably one of the few people left in the world that he had any clue what you had been through—the things you were probably made to do—you didn't appear to want his sympathy.

“But you’re out,” Logan stated, trying to offer some semblance of perspective, “Obviously doing your own thing—things Stryker never would have approved of.”

“That’s because I killed him when I escaped.”

Your words heavily weighed on him. He had been looking for Stryker on his own for a while. He raced down every lead on his own time—pulled every thread, turned over every stone. He just assumed that Stryker was alive somewhere underground.

Though shocked, he was impressed, “So you weren’t just a lab rat, you had some fire in you, huh?”

Slowly approaching Logan, your stare was intense. “Unlike you, I had the balls to do something about Stryker instead of just leaving,” you spat.

Logan’s jaw clenched. His patience became thin as he took a step toward you as well, making you well aware of your size difference. “You don’t know me, sweetheart. I don’t have to explain myself to you, so don’t you go around acting all holier than thou.” Truthfully, it did cross Logan’s mind. He hadn’t seen Stryker in decades. But if he had ended him when he had left, how many lives would be unchanged? Looking at you now hearing the hurt in your voice, he was face-to-face with his unconfirmed yet biggest regret. “You’ve got no goddamn idea what I’ve been through!”His tone was gruff and curt.

Like a slap, you chuckled at his remarks. “Right, sixteen year old female lab rat? Gotta be a walk in the park,” you muttered under your breath. Logan’s imagination didn’t have to stretch far to figure what you had gone through, not just in the field but in the lab, too. You roughly brushed past him and pulled your knife out of the wall, securing it in the sleeve, “But you didn’t pound on my door to talk about Stryker, did you?”

Logan dug his hands into his pockets as you walked back into his view, “I came to talk about what you did—what you do. Your little ‘heroics’ as a vigilante.”

You hummed, “And?”

“They’ve been noticed.” He took out a flask before taking a swig of it. He glanced back to you. “I’m here to assess whether you’re a threat or not.”

“And the verdict?”

His eyes narrowed, analyzing you from head to toe. You assumed he was analyzing how many weapons you had on you. He pulled out his phone, showing you an array of photos.

They were photos of you from various nights with different dates with a variety of men. The police called them victims. You had more…colorful language to describe these men. In some photos, your hair was brown and short, black and long and so on. 

“They aren’t dead, you know,” you feigned innocence with an insincere pout and wide eyes.

The level of violence would suggest otherwise. “No, just close.”

You hummed before taking Logan’s flask, taking a drink from it. He didn’t stop you. “Then I’m sure you know what they did to deserve this, Wolvie.” He knew the general idea, but he looked at you for an answer. You swiped through the photos. Some of them were surveillance, others were crime scene photos. “Phil Stanford: beat his wife so badly that she lost her baby in the second trimester. Jones Hill: almost drowned his girlfriend’s child just to teach her a lesson. And these guys? They passed around their intern to each other like she was a piece of meat.”

You showed Logan each crime scene photo. You remembered every single one like you got the assignment yesterday, remembered the satisfaction of leaving the hotel rooms that they paid for. Awaiting his reprimand, you took another swig before giving it back.

“Look, sweetheart, I get it,” Logan admitted. You raised your brows in surprise, but now, the reason for this visit felt clear. “The Man Eater; it’s fitting.”

“I didn’t give myself that name.”

“It sticked though.”

“Why are you really here? Did Charles send you?” Your question, again, surprised Logan. Was there anything you didn’t already know, Logan thought as he took another drink.

“You know Charles, too, huh? How long?”

You shrugged, “Like 20 something years. He’s always trying to sell me on the whole family and team shit. I never bought it; I’m better on my own. Still, Charles was always good to me when our paths crossed.”

Logan noticed your body tense when you mentioned family. He understood though. “I thought the same thing a few years ago before Charles found me. I was wrong,” Logan admitted. You could tell that it took at least a little bit out of him to admit that; vulnerability was clearly not his forte. Logan just thought you were lying to yourself.

“Charles and I had an agreement where he’d never get in my mind again. But instead, he sends a Stryker experiment, like myself, not only for him to determine if I’m a threat to what I can only assume is how the public views mutants but also to remind me that I shouldn’t be going through life alone, right?”

There wasn’t much for him to say; you had said it all. Instead, he offered you his flask. He only nodded at your statement as you took the flask. You couldn’t say that you were surprised that Charles used this specific tactic. He definitely didn’t have to get into your mind to play mind games.

You took a final swig from the container, taking the last drop of the liquor, “Did you also send you to bring me to the mansion?”

“Charles said that you may not come willingly; I told him that I’d do what I can. Even if that was just to extend the invite.”

You chuckled to yourself, “You never truly escape the grasp of Charles Xavier.” You pulled a coat off the hook near Logan. “But I guess we’re due for a reunion. I’ll go with you…peacefully even.”

Logan grunted slightly. He had no plans of forcing or fighting with you, even before he met you. Though, he was curious how you’d fare in a fight. The photos indicated you were brutal, having the ability to leave someone on the brink of death. Yet, Logan doubted that any of these men saw it coming. Getting a look at you today, he was sure the men were just excited to be in the company of a beautiful woman. Like a siren, he was sure he could be lured by you.

“Good,” he muttered, as he watched you open your apartment door, trotting out of it.

You followed Logan outside, immediately eyeing the bike he was approaching, “That bike yours?”

He nodded, looking at the bike. He had left it in a nearby parking lot. It was a black and silver Harley Davidson motorcycle and a damn expensive one. He turned to look at you, “Yeah, you ever been on a motorcycle?”

”I’ve had a few Harleys in my lifetime,” you mentioned, your hand slowly grazing over the bike and the leather of the seats. “Went to Milwaukee and got one off the line back in the 90s.”

He lifted an eyebrow, looking mildly surprised. He hadn’t expected that. He slowly walked over the bike, getting ready to mount it. He looked back at you with a smirk, “So, you’re a Harley girl?”

You mounted the back, testing out the suspension, “Show me any bike and I’ll show a Harley that does it better.”

He laughed as he watched you get comfortable on his bike, “You think Harley’s better than a Triumph? Hell, you think Harley’s are better than a Ducati?” He mounted the bike and pulled out his key.

“Nothing’s beating American-made, baby,” you shrugged with a smile. You could tell how amused Logan as he shook his head “That’s why I got one in the garage and two in storage. A Street 750, LiveWire, and a Fat Boy.”

He slowly looked over his shoulder again to look at you, obviously impressed. You had good taste. “And you can handle all that, princess?”

“You’d be surprised what I can handle, Wolvie,” you lowly spoke, maintaining eye contact until he went to turn the engine. 

“Then you know the drill.” The engine added a layer of low rumble to his voice. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

You did as you were told, wrapping your arms around his brown leather jacket to connect around his waist. With it being cold out, you almost audibly sighed when you felt the warmth radiating off of him. It was combined with the slight scent of mahogany, pine, and smoke.

Logan kicked the stand up before speeding off. You held on a little tighter as he sped up and weaved through traffic. Logan felt pleased with himself as he felt you gripping him tighter. He weaved through traffic, unconcerned with the angry car drivers he was surely pissing off. You couldn’t sit there and say you hadn’t done the same, but Logan had no reason to be in this much of a rush. You believed that he just liked being an asshole.

Once out of the city, the roads to the mansion began looking familiar. More into the countryside, traffic lessened and Logan’s speeds picked up. As you approached, you could begin to feel the raindrops begin to fall from the sky. You looked up to see the clouds threatening to release a storm. Luckily, Logan was quick to pull into the garage of the mansion before it began to downpour. Logan pulled up to the garage, parking the bike and killing the engine. 

“You ride like an asshole,” you spat as you dismounted off the bike. 

Logan was amused with you snapping at him, “And if I waited in traffic, we would’ve got caught in that rain and it would've drench that little white tee of yours.” He let down the kickstand. A smirk formed across Logan’s lips as he turned back to see you still standing by the bike. His eyes clearly raked your body, “Actually, maybe I should’ve waited.”

You scoffed as you watched him dismound. “I’m assuming Charles is still in the room at the end of the hall on the top floor to the left?” You opted to just change the subject.

“You know this place well, don’t you?” Logan asked as he walked you out of the garage to the inside of  the mansion. 

It was exactly how you remembered it, “Well enough. I met Charles back when he wanted to make this place a school. Make it a safe haven for children like us, he’d say.” You thought it was fun pipe-dream at the time, believing there couldn’t be a safe space for mutants. He was obviously more optimistic than you ever were. “Some things have changed here, but it’s practically timeless.

Logan led you up the stairs, “So, you keep coming back, but you never stay.” 

“Like I said, I’m better alone.”

“Sure you are,” he muttered under his breath. You could still pick up on the sass in his voice. You shot him a glare. “You’re better alone, yet you jump at the chance to see the man who has been pestering you for years? You like him checking up on you? Showing you he cares?”

You didn’t immediately respond as you two walked the hallways. The sound of the rain  colliding with the roof filled the space instead. There weren’t many contant people in your life. When you first met Charles, he could tell he genuinely cared. He wouldn’t keep checking in if he didn’t care. You just weren’t sure if you had the capacity to care in that same way. It felt easier not to.

“It’s complicated,” you sighed as you approached Charles’s room.

“Not that complicated,” Logan mumbled before knocking on the door and pushing it open.

Charles greeted you and Logan before the door was fully opened. You entered both annoyed and relieved to see your old friend. You hadn’t seen him in about 3 years

Logan entered behind you. He stepped quietly to avoid drawing attention to himself for the moment. Charles slowly looked up from the book he was reading and smiled softly. He looked happy to see you again.

“It’s nice to see you again, my dear. Come in, have a seat,” you offered, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

“I think I’ll stand,” you replied, still approaching him. “You sent one of your lackeys to come get me?” you asked as you pointed toward Logan.

Logan gave a huff of annoyance at the word lackey; it felt borderline disrespectful. Charles gave a heavy sigh, looking unbothered by your question.

“I did, but I believe I said that we’d speak again soon the last time we were together,” Charles reminded you. “I told you living alone was no way to live. The world is a dangerous place. Surely you know that, my dear. I just think it would be safer if you were here, with us, where you’re protected.”

“I don’t need protection,” you huffed.

“Not physically. You still need people—connection.” You felt like the conversation was a broken record, yet you always listened. “You have no one, my dear. No friends or loved ones—”

“Not true, we’ve been friends for over 20 years, and I’ll even consider making Logan a friend to mentally protect myself,” you cut him off, trying to humor the conversation. Charles was not amused. Logan was though.

Charles sighed. He could see that you were frustrated and being stubborn, masking it with humor. He knew you had always been a lone wolf. He had hoped that maybe time would change that, but obviously not.

“Is this truly how you want to live out your days? Alone?”

You glanced over to Logan who was also staring at you, “I already explained this to Wolvie. And thanks for sending him. I’m sure it was a meeting that Stryker would have loved seeing.”

Logan was listening to the interaction, though he was trying to keep his mouth shut. Charles could see that he was teeming with his own opinions, and decided to speak in his own defense.

“I thought Logan would be a good choice. He can deal with your stubbornness,” Charles admitted.

“You knew that I wouldn’t be able to kill him.”

Charles sighed again, knowing a part of that was true. You were more of a shoot first, ask questions later kind of girl. He wasn’t going to outright agree with your statement. He knew it would cause more conflict, but Logan spoke up, unable to stop himself.

“You didn’t even try, princess. Going soft?” he teased from the peanut gallery of the conversation.

Looking over your shoulder, you glared at him, “Fresh out of adamantium bullets; might need to invest now.”

Logan's chuckle at your response got lost in the rumble of the thunder. He was just enjoying this interaction between you and Charles. Getting a rise out of you was just a bonus.

You do protect others,” Charles interrupted. Knowing both you and Logan, he figured you two could bicker for hours if given the chance. “You can do that here.”

“I don’t think you want me running my work out of this place, right?”

“No,” he simply stated, “but our students—our future students—don’t always come from the best homes…you may not need us, but we need you, dear.” 

You hated to admit it, but that stuck with you. Your home life wasn’t good. Yet, it paled in comparison to your life with Stryker. You waited for help that never came. The number of unanswered prayers you had shot up always fell flat. Being the help for someone like you? It spoke to you.

You slightly paced, thinking while the storm outside roared, “I’m not a good team player, Charles. I’ve given it a try and it’s not my cup of tea. I appreciate the offer, but I think I oughta go home.” Near the end of your sentence, the loud rumble of the thunder made you jump.

Logan smirked slightly when he saw you jump. He took note of this, an idea forming in his mind. The storm was pretty intense outside, the rain pouring and thunder roaring. Logan spoke up, his tone slightly amused.

“You gonna run through that, princess?”

You huffed as, again, Logan had a point. You looked at the window, the wind whipping the rain in all directions. You groaned to yourself and paced back toward Charles.

“How about I stay the night and think about it?” you offered. For the first time in 20 years, you were on the fence instead of jetting home.

Charles had some gleam of hope. You were appearing to give this more consideration than you had in the past. “That’s a good idea, my dear. You can spend the night, think about it, and I’ll talk to you again in the morning. How does that sound?”

“Peachy,” your tone was short.

Charles chose not to comment on your attitude; you were here and that was a lot farther than he's ever gotten. “Very good…I expect we’ll be able to speak again in the morning. Logan, do you mind showing our guest her room for the night?”

You rolled your eyes before turning to look at the gruff man standing against the wall near the door. Logan chuckled slightly as you turned to look at him. He appreciated how cute you looked when you were upset. 

He pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against and walked over to you, that signature smirk on his face. “Well, come on, princess. I’ll show you to your room.”

You rolled your eyes as you allowed Logan to exit the room first. Logan led you down the hallway, passing rooms where students were staying. Some were roaming the hallways as well. There were a lot of them, all different ages and different powers, all just…happy. Logan glanced back at you, noticing how jarring the amount kids must be to you.

“Not used to being around this many kids, huh?” Logan asked.

You shook your head, “You just live with all these kids?

Logan chuckled, continuing to lead you down the hallway. He shrugged, “Eh, it ain’t too bad. It was a lot at first, but they’re good kids. And Charles is right, they need someone like you. Someone who’s skilled and gives a shit.”

You could see the sense of pride and protectiveness Logan had for the children just by the way he looked at them. For the first time in years, you felt your heart flutter. You didn’t even know your heart could do that anymore. The little smiles and greetings he got secretly warmed your heart. “And the kids seem to like you.”

He chuckled again, “You sound surprised.”

“Well, you just seem to have an asshole vibe rather than a nurturing one.”

Logan shrugged, “There are enough people here that baby them. I ain’t one of them. I imagine you being the same way, sweetheart.”

You passed a group of older female students, all of them saying hi to ‘Mr. Logan’ before erupting into fits of giggles. Logan didn’t pay it any mind. Glancing over your shoulder as they walked by, you could recognize the teasing of girls with crushes.

“Ohhh, I’m sure the girls love it,” you teased.

Logan lowly laughed at your little comment, “They have their little crushes. Not only do they love it, they also think I'm a pretty damn good looking guy too, princess.”

You felt like gagging at his response, “They’ll grow out of it,” you retorted as you approached the guest room.

Logan chuckled again. He was just enjoying your banter and entertained how you responded to him each time. He was amused by your scoffing and eye rolls. He opened the door to your room, watching you closely as you walked in.

“I doubt it, princess. Most women seem to love me damn well into adulthood.

“Oh yeah? You’re just too damn irresistible? They just can’t help themselves?” The layer of sarcasm on your words was thick.

Your words were only fueling his ego and that damn smirk on his face. He leaned against the door frame, shamelessly eyeing you. “Just ask all the women I’ve been with. Not a one that didn’t want more.”

As irritating as Logan was to you in this moment, it was something to do—someone to mess with. You approached him, your eyes gazing into his, until your hands were pressed against his chest. You felt his breath hitch against your palms. You leaned up to whisper into his ear, “You keep telling yourself that, Wolvie.”

Logan let out a bit of a grumble at your words, his hands gripping the doorframe to control himself. “You think I’m lying?”

You allowed your finger to dance across his chest, noticing the prominent definition of it, “I just think you overestimate your own…abilities…”

“Sweetheart, I think I can prove damn well that I don't have to overestimate anything…" His voice was low. His eyes wandered to your heaving chest, knowing he had an effect on you, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Your eyes narrowed, “What are you? The mansion’s welcome wagon concubine?”

“It’s a new…package offered with the welcome wagon.”

You slyly smiled. With your hands on his chest, you pushed him with enough force to push him into the hallway, despite his grip on the frame. “Good night, Logan.” 

You closed the door in Logan’s face before he could make another snide remark. Finally letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you could hear the hearty yet low laugh from Logan on the other side of the door. 

You hated how fluttered Logan made, how he made your heart race. He was shameless with his flirtations. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving in, no matter how tempting it was. He needed to be knocked down a peg. Still, it was hard to ignore the heat between your legs.

Logan was still outside in the hallway, standing right outside your door and still chuckling to himself. He could feel the heat that formed when he was pressed so close to you; he hadn’t felt like that in a long time. He smirked and shook his head. He was going to have some damn fun with you…

note: I'd love to do a part 2! tell me your thoughts♡

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