#if you need something else tagged let me know

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Nothing

Summary: Mornings were Logan's favorite part of the day.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea yesterday when i took a nap instead of writing an essay for my energy policy class. this is my first time writing smut for logan so any critiques are welcome!

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, porn with no plot, pet names (baby, sweetheart), unprotected piv, creampie, not proofread

You were like a cat, practically purring into his neck as you slept peacefully, your arm around his chest and your leg hoisted around his stomach.

But Logan wouldn’t trade it for anything, not when he could watch your chest rise and fall steadily, your bare body pressed up against his own.

Logan’s arm tightened around your waist, the weight of you grounding him. He loved the way your breath hitched when he shifted, your skin pressed flush against his. "Mm, baby," his voice came out low, almost a growl, lips brushing against your forehead. His fingers grazed your bare hip, pulling you tighter against his side.

Your leg slipped further up his body, your thigh brushing his stomach, every part of you tangled with him. His chest rumbled, the warmth of your skin driving him wild. He couldn't help but dip his head, nuzzling the soft spot just beneath your ear, breathing you in, "Can’t get enough of you like this," he murmured, his hand roaming down your spine.

A sleepy smile tugged at your lips as you shifted, nuzzling closer into his neck, the feeling of his stubble grazing your cheek sending shivers down your body. The heat of the morning sun was nothing compared to the heat between the two of you, the sheets a tangled mess beneath you both, the air thick with something else entirely.

Logan’s rough hand slid lower, finding the curve of your ass, fingers splaying across the soft flesh. "Always gotta be all over me, don’t you, sweetheart?" His voice was thick with need, each word a low, gravelly tease as he squeezed, hard enough to make you hum softly into his neck. He loved the way you responded to his touch, every sound you made driving him deeper into the moment.

You shifted again, your hips rolling instinctively against him, and that was it. Logan’s breath hitched, his cock stirring against your thigh. He let out a quiet grunt, rough fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing your skin with lazy circles. "You keep that up, baby," he warned, voice darker now, more possessive, "and I’m not gonna be able to hold back."

Your eyes flickered open just a bit, catching the hungry look in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched as he gripped your ass harder. You couldn’t help but smile, that playful, knowing smirk. You knew exactly what you were doing. And so did he.

Logan groaned, his hand slipping between your legs, fingers brushing the heat between your thighs. "Fuck, you're soaked," he rasped, fingers gliding over your folds, teasing you just enough to make you squirm. "Needy already, huh? Such a good girl for me."

You whined softly, your hips pushing back against his hand, desperate for more. But Logan wasn’t about to let you have it that easy. He kept his touch feather-light, teasing, dragging his fingers over you just enough to drive you insane.

Logan’s fingers teased along your wet folds, barely brushing the surface, just enough to make you whine again, hips rolling forward, desperate for more than just a teasing touch. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, voice a gravelly rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His breath, hot and thick against your ear, only added to the tension building between your legs.

You pressed yourself harder against his hand, a soft, pleading moan slipping from your lips. "Logan," you whispered, the word coming out like a prayer, breathless, full of need. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your neck as he nuzzled deeper into the crook, stubble scraping your skin in that way that always drove you wild.

"Patience, sweetheart," Logan muttered, his fingers finally dipping between your slick folds, parting them with agonizing slowness. His touch was firm, yet still teasing, fingers gliding through your wetness, but never quite giving you the pressure you were aching for. His thumb circled your clit, slow, lazy movements that had you squirming in his arms, a quiet whimper escaping your throat.

You gasped, grinding against him, desperate for more friction, more anything. His body was a solid, immovable wall, warm and grounding, but that teasing hand had you on edge. "Fuck, Lo," you moaned, barely able to keep still, your hips rocking against his touch. Logan’s other arm tightened around you, holding you in place, his lips grazing your ear.

"That’s it. Keep making those sweet little noises for me," he growled, fingers sliding down to circle your entrance, teasing just enough to have your breath hitching. He pressed the tip of one finger inside you, just enough to feel how wet you were for him. "So fucking wet already," he murmured, his lips pressing against your neck, teeth grazing lightly. "You want it bad, don’t you?"

You nodded frantically, the need building in your core, hips pushing back against him. His finger slid in deeper, slow and deliberate, making you squirm even more. "God, Logan, please," you begged, your voice thick with desperation, body trembling with want. You could feel his cock pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need just like you.

He chuckled again, low and dark, before adding a second finger, curling them inside you, finally giving you that delicious pressure you’d been craving. Your back arched, a moan ripping from your throat as your walls clenched around his fingers. "There you go," he muttered, his voice rough as gravel. "Take what you need, baby."

You were a mess, grinding against his hand, your body moving on instinct. His fingers moved faster now, pumping in and out of you, slick and wet, the sound filling the room. His thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you gasping, your body tensing as you climbed higher, faster.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hips rocked against you, his hard cock pressing insistently against your thigh. "Gonna make you come all over my fingers before I even think about giving you anything more."

The knot in your stomach tightened, your entire body trembling, on the edge, so fucking close. Logan knew exactly what he was doing, his fingers curling just right inside you, his thumb relentless on your clit, pushing you closer and closer. "Come on, baby," he urged, his voice dark and commanding. "I want to feel you come for me."

His words sent you over the edge, your body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you, a cry spilling from your lips. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your hips bucking against his hand as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Logan didn’t stop, his fingers still working you through it, prolonging the sensation, his other arm holding you tight against him as you rode out the high. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling, oversensitive and overstimulated, but still craving more. You wanted him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he muttered, pulling his fingers out of you, wet and glistening. He brought them up to your lips, brushing them against your mouth, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Taste yourself," he growled softly.

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth, sucking his fingers in, tasting your own slickness on his skin. Logan groaned, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you, the heat between you both palpable. His fingers slid from your lips with a wet pop, leaving your mouth craving more.

Before you could even catch your breath, Logan shifted, rolling you onto your back with ease, his weight pressing you into the sheets. His body hovered over yours, his chest brushing against your breasts as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, hungry kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, claiming, while his hand trailed down your side, fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slipped lower, finding your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist. The pressure of his hips settled between your legs, his hard cock brushing against your soaked entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

Logan moved slowly, his hips rocking just enough for you to feel the length of him dragging against your folds, the friction making you gasp, your hands clenching in the sheets. "Shit, baby, you’re dripping for me," he growled, his voice thick with need, as he ground his hips harder, the tip of his cock pressing lightly against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

You bucked your hips, desperate for more, your body aching for him to fill you. "Please, Lo," you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "Need you inside me."

A low, feral groan rumbled from his chest as he nudged your legs wider, positioning himself at your entrance. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that made your heart race. Slowly, torturously, he pushed in, stretching you inch by inch, filling you completely. The sensation of him inside you, thick and hot, made your head spin, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Fuck," Logan hissed, his jaw clenched as he buried himself to the hilt, his body still for a moment as he savored the feel of you wrapped tight around him. "You feel so fucking good, sweetheart." His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the rhythm steady but deliberate.

You moaned softly, your hands sliding up his back, nails dragging across his skin as he set a slow, sensual pace, his cock gliding in and out of you with maddening precision. "Logan," you gasped, your back arching off the bed, the pleasure building steadily with each thrust. "Fuck... that feels so good."

Logan's mouth found your neck, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing your pulse. "I know, baby," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as his hips rocked into you, deep and slow, every movement calculated to drive you insane. His hands roamed over your body, fingers squeezing your ass as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your toes curl.

Your breath hitched, a broken moan slipping from your lips as you wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer, needing more. Logan growled low in his throat, his thrusts becoming more insistent, his cock driving into you harder, deeper, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he groaned, his voice rough and thick with desire. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you gasping, your hips grinding against his, desperate for more friction. "Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his thrusts growing rougher, faster. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

You could barely breathe, the pleasure building to a fever pitch, every nerve in your body on fire as his fingers worked your clit, his cock pounding into you with just the right rhythm. It was too much, the heat, the pressure, his low growls in your ear driving you over the edge. With a strangled cry, your body tensed, your walls clenching around him as the orgasm ripped through you, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

"Fuck, yes," Logan groaned, his pace faltering as he felt you tighten around him, his cock twitching inside you. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep, his body shaking as his release hit, spilling inside you with a low, guttural moan. He held you tight, his breath ragged against your neck, his body trembling with the aftershocks.

For a long moment, the only sound was your mingled breathing, bodies entwined, his weight a comforting pressure holding you to the bed. Logan's lips hovered over yours, brushing them softly, like a lingering promise. His rough fingers skimmed along your side, tracing the dips of your waist, as if savoring the way your body still hummed from the intensity.

He shifted beside you, the warm length of him pressing into your skin, a quiet rumble in his chest as he nuzzled your neck again, his stubble scraping against your pulse. "Still with me, sweetheart?" Logan's voice was low, teasing, his mouth ghosting over your jawline. The rasp of his tone sent another shiver down your spine, even though your body was still heavy from release.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, barely able to form a coherent word, your breath catching as his lips trailed lower, grazing the soft skin just under your ear. Logan chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin, as his hand slid down, resting on your thigh, fingers splayed out across your skin.

He pulled back enough to meet your eyes, the intensity in his gaze making your pulse quicken again. His thumb rubbed absentminded circles into your skin, like he needed the physical connection just as much as you did. "You really wore me out this time," he teased, smirking that cocky grin of his, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t fully faded.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging him back down toward you. "Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it," you shot back, breathless but smiling.

Logan chuckled, low and deep, dipping down to kiss you again, slow and deliberate, savoring the way your lips felt against his. "Damn right," he muttered between kisses. "Could stay like this forever."

For a moment, the world outside the room felt distant, forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the heat between your bodies, the steady rhythm of your breaths, and the soft warmth of the tangled sheets beneath you. Logan's fingers skimmed your hip, then slipped around to cup your ass, squeezing gently, making you hum softly in response.

"You're a handful, you know that?" His voice was thick with affection, despite the rough edge to it.

"Mm, you love it," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips as your fingers traced the hard lines of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I do," he growled, his lips pressing harder against yours. "Too much sometimes." His breath fanned across your face as he spoke, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, matching your own.

Logan's hand slid up your back, pulling you closer to him, his chest warm and solid against yours. For once, the urgency had faded, replaced with something slower, deeper—like he didn’t want to let go of this moment, this feeling. "You good?" he asked, voice quieter now, more tender.

You nodded, resting your forehead against his, your hands curling around his arms, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go. "Yeah," you whispered, feeling the weight of the day melt away with him there beside you.

"Good," he murmured, kissing the top of your head, the gentleness of the gesture at odds with the wild, raw passion from earlier. But that was Logan- rough and intense, but capable of surprising softness when it came to you.

His hand settled on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him again as he let out a long, contented sigh. The steady rise and fall of his chest was soothing, grounding, as you drifted into the comfort of the moment, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield from the world outside.

"Stay here," he rumbled, his voice barely more than a growl, but there was something deeper in his tone, something protective.

You smiled softly against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "Always."

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

one | two | three | four | five | six

authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

View all comments

user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

[heizlut]

Promises To Keep

⟡ cw: none

⟡ tags: fem!reader, zayne, angst⇢comfort⇢smut, vague allusions to chapter 4 so slight spoiler warning?

⟡ 4.9k words (officially my longest fic!)

⟡ co-written with da bf @knihil everyone say thank you knihil!🖤

⟡ nsfw under the cut

⟡ m!list here

Zayne stood at his office window, looking out into the night. He was haunted by the memory of your grandma telling him to take care of you always; that it would do both of you some good. He lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his dark hair, feeling frustrated at himself. Zayne has known you since you were young and he always held you close in his heart.

He wanted to run to you and hold you in his arms. To comfort you and see you smile again, but after what happened, you had told him you needed time to yourself and left without another word.

The nights seemed even longer to you as you wrestled with your grieving; your cries and sobs accompanying your solitary mourning. Your tears spilt from your eyes, falling on your blanket like the rain against your bedroom window. Everything feels so cold…

It had been too long since you'd last seen Zayne. It wasn’t always easy to find time to spend together with both your busy schedules, but even more so now that you refused to leave your apartment. You're the one who asked for space, the one who walked away from his open arms. You thought space was what you needed, but now you feel far more hurt than before. You grieve and you hurt, knowing you pushed away the one person who always wanted the best for you.

A knock on your door startles you from your sorrowful stupor. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt as you get up and make your way to the door. The knock sounds again, “I know you’re in there. Please… Just open the door.” Your chest tightens when you hear Zayne’s voice. His typically unemotional tone sounds like a holy choir to you, answering your subconscious pleas for his presence.

You crack open the door and look up at him, his hazel eyes meeting yours immediately. There’s a flash of uncharacteristic worry in Zayne’s eyes as he sees your tear-stained cheeks and he sighs, “Can you let me in?” You frown but nod, opening the door a little more so that he could step inside. You shut the door once he's inside and sit on your couch, holding your knees to your chest.

Zayne sits down beside you, leaving a little space between the two of you. You eyes are cast down to the floor as you sit silently and he looks at you, "Have you been taking care of yourself?" The way you pull your knees closer to your chest is all the answer he needs. Zayne lets out a deep breath, "Have you at least eaten today?" Your eyes finally meet his and you simply shake your head. He purses his lips and stands up, "I'll make you something then."

Your gaze trails after him and he heads to your kitchen. Zayne frowns when he opens your fridge to find only a few breakfast ingredients and nothing else. He pulls out the eggs and sausage and silently begins to prepare you a meal.

Sizzles and pops from the breakfast cooking in the pan are the only sounds in the apartment. Zayne finally breaks the silence, adjusting the ingredients in the pan with a spatula, "I know things have been hard lately, but you need to take care of-"

He's caught off guard by the feeling of your arms wrapped around his torso and your body pressed against his from behind, "What're you doing?" You hold him tighter and press your cheek against his back before speaking softly, voice weak and shaky from all the crying you had done earlier, "Thank you..." Zayne's body relaxes and he carefully plates your meal, struggling only slightly as you wouldn't let him go.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips when he speaks again, "Come on. Let me go... You need to eat." You frown and bury your face into his back. Zayne breathes out a small laugh as he turns in your arms, facing you now. You frown up at him and he can't help but think how cute you look. He smooths down your hair, "I'll stay the night and let you hold me as long as you want, but only if you eat first."

You reluctantly let go and he smiles softly down at you, "There you go." Zayne holds the plate of breakfast food out to you, "Go on and eat now. Doctors orders." Your emotional demeanor cracks just a little at his half-playful words and you take the plate from him, "Fine, I'll eat." You sit yourself down at your table and take a small bite of the sausage and eggs. Your eyes close as you take in the flavor. It wasn't anything special, but it was the first meal you had eaten in a couple days.

Zayne sits across from you, watching as you finished off the rest of the food rather quickly, "It seems that this was definitely necessary..." His eyes soften, "I'm glad I stopped by." One corner of your lips curls into a hint of a smile and you nod, "...Me too." You move to take your dish to the sink but Zayne stops you, his voice low and serious, "Let me take care of you." Your heart flutters and you can only gawk at him as he takes the plate from you and puts it in the sink.

Turning back to face you, Zayne gives you an expectant look, "Well? What would you like now?" You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt and you look up at him, speaking softly, "Can we just lay down and... talk?" He studies you as you speak, watching the way your sleeves partially cover your hands as your fingers pick at the hems, "Yes. I promised I would stay here if you ate and you did." He would've stayed whether you ate the food or not. All he cared about was making you happy again…

Zayne follows you to your bedroom, taking in the clothes that are scattered across your floor and your bed half-made, "Maybe I should try to stay for the weekend and help you clean up..." Your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you look away from him. "Don't be embarrassed", Zayne's deep voice brings your attention back to him, "I'm here to help. I always have been." You huff, "Yeah, as my doctor.." He gives you a disappointed look and takes you hand in his, "It's more than that. Don't act as though that's all we are to each other."

You frown as you eyes meet his hazel ones and you mutter, "Sorry..." He sits on your bed and pulls you to him, "Come here." You sit down next to him and look down at your hand in his. With his free hand, Zayne redirects your gaze back to him with his fingers against your jaw, "Look at me." He searches your eyes when you finally listen, "You mean more to me than I can properly express..." Zayne reaches forward and runs his fingers through your hair, "I made a promise to someone and I intend to keep it."

You absentmindedly lick your lips as your eyes trail down to his lips. Zayne takes notices and leans his face a little closer to yours and speaks in a hushed voice, "May I?" Your shining lips part as you nod, allowing him to move forward. His lips meet yours in the most gentle kiss, lingering on yours for a moment before he moves back; his thumb rubbing across your cheek, "It pains me to know that you've been keeping yourself here, stuck in your own grief..." You lean into his touch and take a deep breath, "I just need time, Zayne..."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, "I know. But I won't allow you to do this on your own anymore." Your heart swells. Zayne isn't usually one to outwardly express his emotions, but things were different now. He just wanted you to be happy again. He pulls you in for a tight embrace; muscular arms keeping you pressed against him. You relax in his arms, your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck and you breathe in his scent.

Zayne smooths your hair down lovingly and kisses the top on your head, "How about I prepare a bath for you? I want you to be able to relax." You think for a moment then nod, "Okay... I think that would be nice..." You raise your head to look up at him, "Thank you.." He gives you a subtle smile and releases you from his embrace, "Of course."

The sound of running water is soothing as the tub fills up, steam billowing over the edge and swirling around the bathroom. Zayne rummages through your bathroom cabinets, in search of anything that could make the bath more soothing for you. Finding what he was looking for, he straightens up, holding a bag of lavender bath salts and a scented candle. The handle squeaks when he turns off the water and little droplets drip from the spout.

You walk in as Zayne is putting in a scoop of the bath salts and you watch the little crystal-like grains float to the bottom. He speaks without looking at you as he closes the bag and set it on the counter, "The bath salts will help your muscles relax and soothe any other aching you may be experiencing." One corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement with the way he could go from being a loving boyfriend to your primary care physician.

Zayne continues on as he lights the vanilla scented candle for you, the warm glow reflecting on his face, "The scent of vanilla will help relax your mind, as well as reduce your heart rate and blood pressure." He finally looks to you with a raised eyebrow when he hears the softest laughter come from you, "Did I say something to amuse you?" He can hardly act stern when he finally sees the small smile that plays on your lips; the corners of his turn upwards, "Nevermind. It's good to see you smile again..."

You shift your weight on your feet as you feel the butterflies in your stomach, trying to allow yourself to feel happy amidst everything that has happened. It felt wrong and your smile slips. Zayne takes notice and looks concerned as he approaches you. He softly grips your chin and tilts your head up to his, "You are allowed to feel happiness. Do not try to convince yourself otherwise." You release a breath as you take in his words, "You're right... I'm sorry." He purses his lips, "Don't apologize." Zayne releases his grip only to caress your cheek, "Come on. I don't want the water to cool."

You nod and reach for the hem of your sweatshirt and Zayne looks away, stepping around you to leave the bathroom and give you privacy, but you catch his wrist, "Stay." He searches your features as if he was making sure you really wanted that. You look sincere and you speak softly, "Now that you're here, I... Don't want to be left alone anymore." Zayne's relaxes and nods once, "Then I'll stay."

With his answer, you let go of his wrist and lift your sweatshirt over your head, letting it drop to the tiled floor beneath you. Your breasts lift and fall with your motion, and Zayne swallows hard. You turn around and bend over slightly as you slip your sleep shorts and panties down your legs. He reflexively averts his gaze even though he had seen you bare before, underneath him and sharing heavy breaths.

You step into the tub of steaming water, the tension visibly leaving your body as you settle in. Zayne finally steals a glance at you, hazel eyes wandering from your relaxed face to the way the water rippled around your breasts to the rhythm of your slow breathing. You crack open one eye and peek at him, chuckling softly to yourself when you catch where his gaze is. The soft sound of your laughter snaps him out of it and he looks away, clearing his throat, "I apologize. I shouldn't-"

You shush him, opening your eyes fully now, "Now you're the one apologizing. It's not necessary." He chews at the inside of his cheek and frowns, "I know, but... Still. You're still in the grieving process and here I am being... inappropriate." This pulls a full laugh from you and you sit up a little straighter; the warm water sloshing from the disturbance; breasts now resting on top of the water.

The sound of your laughter and the better view of your breasts sends tingles straight to his heart and down to the bulge he was beginning to sport under his slacks. Zayne huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "There you go laughing again when I'm trying to be serious..." Your laughter dies down and you smile softly, extending your hand towards him, "Come here..." He looks down at your hand and then back to your face as he ponders your request.

With a heavy sigh, he comes to you, kneeling down by the side of the tub, "What do you need?" You keep your hand open, palm facing upwards and give him a small pout. Zayne now knows exactly what you're asking for. He looks a bit annoyed, but truthfully he didn't mind doing this for you whenever you requested. He rests his jaw in your palm and his hazel eyes meet yours, "Are you happy now?"

You nod with a little smile as he gives a ghost of his own and leans back again, "I think you've been in there long enough. If you stay much longer, you'll dehydrate." Without waiting for a response from you, Zayne stands back up and grabs your towel from the hook and holds it open for you. You let out a breath as you carefully rise up, not wanting to slip. Zayne wraps the towel around your body and without warning, swoops you up bridal style, making you gasp, "Zayne!"

He looks down at you with a confused expression as if what he did was a perfectly normal thing to do, "What?" You pout as he holds you closer, taking you back to the bedroom, "A little warning would've been nice..." Zayne ignores your comment and lowers your legs first to let you stand on your own. You adjust the towel around your body, turning your back to him, and go to grab a fresh set of pajamas. Zayne watches you closely as you move; his cock stirring in his slacks once again.

As soon as your towel drops to the ground, he's fighting the urge to to take you where you stand. You slip on one of his oversized sweatshirts that you had stolen borrowed from him and then turn to face him. He puts on a disapproving face, even though on the inside Zayne felt his heart skip, "My sweatshirt... You do realize I have been looking everywhere for that one right?" You crack a sheepish grin, "Oops?" Zayne huffs out a breath, "It's fine." Then he mutters, "It looks better on you anyways..."

You smile a little at his comment and sit on the bed, "You know.. You still have some clothes here. If you're going to stay you should change too. I washed them for you." Zayne raises a brow at that, about to make a teasing remark about you being able to wash his clothes but not the ones scattered across your floor, but he holds his tongue. Now was not the right moment to make a comment about that now that he had you feeling a bit better.

Instead he nods and and turns to find his clothes folded neatly on top of your dresser. Grabbing a pair of sweats and a plain white t-shirt, he heads to your bathroom to change, "One moment." You watch as he closes the bathroom door behind him, still open just a crack. You can't help but peek at him as he undresses from his formal work attire, absentmindedly licking your lips as your eyes trail down his form.

He slips the clean, comfortable clothes on and comes back out to you, taking note of the slight blush of your cheeks, "Are you feeling sick?" Zayne presses the back of his hand against your forehead. You laugh softly and grab his wrist and press a kiss to his palm, "I'm not sick." The feeling of your kiss lingers on his palm once you release him, "That's good then..."

You lay back on the mattress and look up at the ceiling and then sigh, looking back to Zayne, "I thought you said you'd lay with me?" He gives a hint of a smile and lays down beside you, propping himself up with his hand as he faces you. You both stay silent for a moment, simply taking in each other's presence before Zayne is the first one to speak, "Tell me, what more can I do to make you feel better?"

You turn your body towards him, eyes trailing down from his eyes to his lips and lingering for a moment, “Just… hold me.” The slightest smile appears in his lips and he pulls you close. His hand rests on the back of your head as your face nuzzles into his chest.

Zayne presses three slow little kisses to the top of your head, breathing in your scent. “I’ve got you and I’m never going anywhere”, his voice comes out hushed with a hint of sentimentality that makes your heart swell in your chest.

You let out a small breath, pressing yourself impossibly closer against his body, wishing you could just melt into him. As his arms tighten around you, the realization that you're not the only one with an aching wish hits you.

Surprised, you unearth your face from his chest only to be met by the sensation of his lips upon yours. You detect the gentleness, the care and longing he feels for you through the kiss… And something more.

There's a hunger you can taste in his embrace, and it takes everything in you not to moan out in response. Zayne's cock twitches beneath his sweats and he lets a small groan escape from his lips against yours. The sound alone has arousal pooling between your legs and your tongue prods against his before finding a sensual rhythm.

His hands begin to wander down your body and rest on your ass as he gives it a gentle squeeze, grinding his clothed cock against you. Zayne pulls back just enough to speak huskily, "Tell me to stop and I will." All you can do is shake your head, not trusting your voice enough to form proper words in this moment.

Right now, all you wanted was to lose yourself in him, to forget everything you've been through up until this moment. All that mattered was you and Zayne and your burning need for him.

A small smirk plays on his lips and he adjusts his position, now with you underneath him. Your eyes lock onto his, your lips parted slightly in a breathless and wordless need. "You don't need to say anything, sweetheart...", Zayne starts, leaning down as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, "I told you I would take care of you and that's a promise I will always keep."

The cutest little whimper escapes your lips, making him let out a soft chuckle as his hands trail up under your sweatshirt, "It seems I have quite the effect on you..." Your back arches to met his touch and his thumbs brush over your hardened nipples. "That's it, sweetheart. Just relax and enjoy this."

You couldn't ignore the request, not that you wanted to anyways. Zayne's calloused hands felt electric against your heated skin, sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine and straight to your core. God, just this is enough to have your entrance clenching for him.

The process of grieving, cocooned in your solitude and away from Zayne almost made you forget how badly your body needed him. Almost. As if he can sense your burning need, one of his hands trails down your abdomen and rests on your thigh. His fingertips begin to lightly trace towards your soaking pussy, Zayne's off hand still molding around the swell of your breast, "Go on and spread your legs for me, love. Let me make you feel better..."

Your breath hitches and you obey his gentle command, spreading your legs apart and exposing your needy hole to him. Zayne's hot breath fans over your lips as a small smile plays on his, "Oh, so you can follow instructions..." You would've rolled your eyes as you usually would at a playful comment like that from him, but this wasn't under normal circumstances. You were way too needy for him right now and it was apparent in the soft little whine that comes out.

Zayne's fingers inch towards where you're aching for his touch and your hips instinctively raise up. Your eyes almost roll all the way back the second his thumb grazes against your clit and begins to move in slow circles, drawing out a moan from your lips.

Your exclamation of pleasure is swallowed by him as his lips seal around yours, Zayne's thumb now moving with far more vigor. Both of you are locked in a dance of sensuality, tasting each other's breaths and sounds as he unrelentingly draws out every drop of your want.

“You’re always so beautiful…”, Zayne breathes out, his thumb now slick from your arousal. You do your best to keep your eyes on his, but everything feels so hazy in the best of ways. All because of him, always because of him. Before you can even beg him for more, he nips lightly at your bottom lip and his voice comes out husky, “Please tell me I can take you right here, right now…”

He leans back just enough that his lips still graze yours as his hazel eyes search yours to make sure you’re still doing okay. He would do anything for you. He would even stop everything if you asked him to despite his hardened cock throbbing with need for you and you alone.

All you can manage is a small nod of your head and that’s all it takes for him to begin to tug down his sweats. But then he pauses, letting out a gruff sigh earning him a confused and dazed look from you. Seeing the look in your eyes, a soft hint of a smile plays on his lips, it's reassuring, “This isn’t about me right now, my love. This is about making you feel better and here I was about to be selfish.”

You paused for a moment and let out a huff of laughter, “You can be sel-“ Your words are interrupted by his quick readjustment of position and his mouth suddenly around your clit.

You suck in a sharp breath, your head tilts up against the plush pillow as your pretty lips part in pleasure. Zayne’s tongue flicks out as he begins to lap at your clit with gentle measure and just enough pressure to leave you whining for more friction.

Your hips buck slightly to meet his movements as his tongue slides between your folds and laps up your sweet arousal. If it was up to him, he would’ve stayed there all night, perfectly content to focus on your pleasure alone, but you wanted… no. You needed more. Your fingers slide into his soft dark hair, giving it a gentle tug to draw his attention to you.

Reluctantly, Zayne’s eyes meet yours once more, but not before giving your clit a little lick, “What is it, love?” You let out a breath that conveys your neediness more than any words ever could and Zayne knows you well enough to know exactly what you’re asking for.

Zayne gives a small smirk as he sits up, his eyes locked on yours, and tugs down his sweats, freeing his thick and throbbing length. Precum glistens on the tip and so much has gathered that it begins to drip down in a pearlescent strand that has you licking your lips.

Zayne’s large hand strokes his cock in a tantalizing motion that you can’t take your eyes off of. Slowly, he lowers himself once more and you spread your legs a little wider to accommodate his toned frame. His dripping tip rubs against your entrance, catching lightly on your clit which makes you draw in a breath.

“Tell me if it gets to be too much”, Zayne breathes out lowly before gently breaching your tight, slick walls. His nose scrunches up in pleasure as he lets out a groan. The feeling of being filled up by him feels heavenly and your mind immediately goes blank.

“Fuck, sweetheart… I swear you were made for me and me alone”, Zayne growls out softly. Once he’s fully inside, stretching you out so perfectly, he relaxes against you. His toned chest presses against your breasts and his nose nuzzles against yours, “You’re so perfect…” Everything about this moment is perfection. It’s something you didn’t even realize how much you missed in your time away from him until this very moment.

Zayne begins to move in a slow rhythm that has you feeling every inch of him, the tip of his leaking cock pressing into the deepest part of you and the thickness of his length that fills you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re finally complete.

Zayne presses little kisses against your lips as he makes love to you in the sweetest way. All he cares about is your comfort, pleasure, and happiness. He always has and always will be your sword and shield. In the days where you feel as if the world itself is hellbent on delivering a rain of sorrow upon your soul, Zayne will brave the downpour alongside you. In the coldest of nights, his embrace will continue to serve you as the warmest suit of armor. His love for you is ultimate. You are his reason.

Your voice breaks, the sound that leaps from your throat being an emotional mix of a sob and a moan. “Zayne, I-I need you.” You swear you can feel his cock throb against your upper walls in response to your declaration. Through all of your shared history, you can't recall a single time where you've produced such a raw profession of love. And, as your eyes flutter open to meet his, you know he understands the same.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere”, Zayne whispers against your lips, “Not now, not ever.” Before you can even form a response of your own, his lips seal around yours in the most tender of kisses. His hips follow suit, rolling and meeting your own with the most passionate and loving of movements. You moan into his mouth, breathing out into him as he breathes you in.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His skin against yours, his cock drooling within your clenching walls, the taste of his moans upon your eternally wanting mouth… You feel yourself becoming one with Zayne. Your tight walls begin to squeeze around his cock, signaling how close you were to your end.

“Fuck…”, Zayne growls out in response to the feeling, thrusting a little harder as his cock throbs with the need to cum. But, again, this wasn’t about him. His priority is you.

Zayne reaches down and begins to thumb your clit in quick but measured circles, “Cum for me, my love. I need to feel you cum around my cock.” His breathing is labored as he desperately tries to hold back from filling you with his cum. He’s so desperate to bring you to your own orgasm before he allows himself to cum.

With a sweet cry from your swollen, kissed lips, you come undone around his thick length. Your walls pulsate around his cock, causing Zayne to bury his face into your neck with a groan. He can’t hold back any longer as his cock begins to throb wildly and thick ropes of cum spill inside of you. The feeling of his hot seed pooling inside of you, his breath pelting your sensitive neck…

You lose yourself to the torrent of pleasure that gushes from between your legs. “I love you…”, you breathe your need for him to life as you both simultaneously reach your peak. Zayne’s body relaxes on top of yours, his cock still nestled inside your soaked pussy.

You both lay there for a moment. Your hearts are both beating wildly, yet somehow still in sync. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and then your lips before he speaks so softly and full of warmth, “I’ll always be here for you, my love.”

You feel your eyelids grow heavy, a grand warmth soothing every nerve in your body. Every ounce of love that Zayne houses within his heart has poured into you, and for the first time in your life, you accept it all without pretext. As your eyes close and before the soothing stillness of sleep takes you, a final sentence falls from his lips.

“I promise.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆

a/n: fun fact, i started this back in march and lost touch with it but HERE WE ARE!

[suplicyy]

heyy hope you’re gonna take this request, can you write something about canon kuroo confessing?

No time skip please. Like with a female reader which doesn’t act in love with him like the rest of the girls, she’s not pick me or stuff like this.

So Kuroo can do nothing but finally talk to her because he can’t stand the fact that she’s different from other girls.

I can’t really picture canon Kuroo confessing, that’s why I’m asking, I really like your writing!

Thank u so much

Notice me Please!!!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

— Summary: He has his eyes on you, but for some reason you don't look back.

— Tags/Genre: Fem!Reader | Fluff

— Warnings: None!

Kuroo drums his fingers impatiently on his desk, and with one hand resting on his chin, he stares at your figure across the classroom. You seemed quite entertained listening to music, which he has no idea what it is, but that sight makes him feel something inside him.

Frustration. He admit that he can't stand seeing you like this, because you're never like that when he tries to talk to you, and that made him feel a kind of jealousy, even if it was for something inanimate.

Every time you talked to him, you seemed indifferent, almost as if you were uninterested. Damn, why don't you look at him with the same twinkle in your eye when you're listening to something on your stupid headphones?

It's been a while since Kuroo started to have strong feelings for you, your heart skips a beat every time you pass each other in the school hallways, with Kuroo always looking back when you pass by him. But he never revealed that to you of course.

And no matter how many bad jokes or flirtations he told you, how many little gifts he left in your locker or on your desk in secret and then hinted that he was the one who left them there, it seemed like you never cared about his desperate actions for your attention.

At first, he thought this was just the way you acted, that you were more shy and reserved. But then he noticed the giggles you had with your friends, how talkative you seemed to be around them.

Now he thinks the problem is with him, that maybe you hate his presence, or just don't care about him.

He is a relatively popular person at school. His volleyball team reached the Nationals, which gave great prominence to all the team members, especially him. So it's no surprise to hear girls gossiping about Kuroo in the hallways.

To tell the truth, he didn't care much about it, sometimes he would even tease Yaku for having more fans than him, but that was it.

The only person he craves attention from is you.

But he doesn't know if you feel the same way, or at least care about his existence.

So that's why today would be the day he would bring the whole truth to light. His only option now would be to confess to you. Maybe it was a last choice made out of desperation and doubt, but he can no longer bear your indifference towards him.

Your club activities are over, so you can finally go home after a tiring day of boring classes and uninteresting people.

Now, you were walking towards the school exit, but you soon stopped when you saw a certain boy with a peculiar hairstyle standing at the gate, almost as if he was waiting for someone.

You figured he was waiting for Kenma to go home since they were best friends, so you didn't care much about it and continued walking to the exit.

"Hey, [Name]!"

A familiar voice calls you. And as you turn to the side, you see Kuroo walking towards you, waving at you.

"Let's go home together, shall we?" you look around, and then you look at him again, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going with Kenma?" "He said he needed to go somewhere else to buy a new game, something like that. And since I'm alone... I thought about going with you."

He gives you a smile that would make anyone fall in love immediately, but it never seemed to have any effect on you.

You looked at him with an enigmatic expression, almost as if you want to read him through his actions and words. "Um, sure." You say as you adjust your backpack hanging on your shoulder, soon starting to walk, with Kuroo by your side.

Your house wasn't that far from the school, but in the situation you were in, it felt like an eternity had passed since you left the school gates and started walking.

Neither of you exchanged a single word, except for Kuroo who was humming some random song.

"Y'know..." he says after a moment, which made you direct your gaze to him, who was still staring at the path ahead.

"I once heard you listening to this song. You turn your music up so loud that anyone who passes by can hear it coming from your headphones." your expression changes to one of surprise.

"S-Seriously? I never realized that..." you laugh awkwardly, looking away to the floor.

"Yeah... but it's not because of music or headphones that I called you to walk with me." Kuroo stops walking unexpectedly, making you stop too.

Looking back, you notice his expression is more serious, almost as if he is a little nervous.

"Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you."

His tone of voice seemed to have changed too, which left you confused, or even a little nervous, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

"I...like you, [Name]." As he uttered these words, it was almost as if a weight had been lifted from the boy's shoulders, his previously tense posture allowing himself the luxury of relaxing, even if for a brief moment.

However, the opposite seemed to manifest in you. Previously unconcerned about what this simple walk would offer you, it was almost as if your breath was suddenly caught in your throat. Your heart soon feels like it's leaving your body, hammering in your chest in a fast, nervous rhythm.

"Huh?" you say in disbelief at what you heard. Shock quickly turns to annoyance, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "Look... don't think this kind of joke is funny, because you won't hear me laugh about it."

"Joke? Why would you think that?" Kuroo says this right after with a nasal laugh.

He walks closer to you, and you instinctively step back, until your back is in contact with a large tree that was close to the sidewalk. He stops right in front of you, and looks at you with a touch of doubt, almost as if he had heard something incredible.

"Why do you think I would make fun of something like that? You- my feelings for you... would never be a joke to me." he says with an affectionate tone, his eyes softening for a moment as he maintains eye contact with you.

"Maybe this could have been just a challenge your friends arranged for you, like in those cliché movies." your tone conveys sarcasm, but with a touch of bitterness "Or maybe some pretty girl rejected you, and is now looking for solace in anyone even remotely close to you..." "Or even-"

Your words are cut off as you feel Kuroo's lips land tenderly on your cheek. His hand reaches out to cup the other side of your face, and the other lands on the tree behind you, pinning you there.

"I like you, [Name]." he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "And I will tell you this until you can't prove otherwise."

Kuroo takes his hand off the tree and takes your hand, then looks at you seriously. "And I mean it."

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you quickly compose yourself, and a small smile appears on your face, but this time it's genuine.

"Hmm, so you want to win me over, huh?" you push yourself away from the tree, placing your free hand on his shoulder. Your sudden closeness makes Kuroo surprised, making him suddenly feel shy.

"Only words won't convince me... you better work hard for it, Tetsurou." you move away from him, and start opening your backpack, looking for your headphones.

You give a small wave to Kuroo, but without turning towards him, focusing only on the path in front of you.

Dumbfounded, Kuroo waves back, his cheeks dyed with pink in embarrassment.

"Thank you for accompanying me, but I can go on my own from here." You say as you fit your headphones onto your head, putting on a random playlist that you made in honor of your little crush, who is definitely not Kuroo Tetsurou (it is).

— A/N: Uh........hi........I'm back.............

First of all, I want to apologize a thousand times to whoever sent me this request, I'm really sorry it took me SO LONG to post this. In addition to apologizing to everyone who follows me here, for not having given any sign of life for more than a month....😭

I really don't have a real excuse for doing this other than a total of 0 creativity and several hours of my life in hell (school), so I really needed to take this time for myself, until I felt more comfortable coming back here again.

I'm currently feeling quite creative artistically, mainly because I'm watching MHA again (which I'll probably bring here on my page) and also because I'm reading the Haikyuu manga. Plus, I passed pretty much every subject at school, so I don't have to worry so much about grades.

So...I'm officially back now!! I apologize again, and in compensation for this, I am already writing 3 more new things for you (2 are from MHA😜😜🤪); and I also won't open requests until I finish writing these, so stay tuned!!

[runninriot]

Only Me

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

week 3 prompts: rough, aftercare | rated: E | wc: 2.737 | tags: sub Eddie Munson, mean dom Steve Harrington, restraints, nipple clamps, impact play, mild degradation kink, established relationship | also on ao3

  “Please! You promised!”

Eddie’s eyes are wet with unshed tears, wide and pleading and so goddamn pretty. He always is when he’s like that. When he’s all tied up and helpless, squirming and writhing. Uselessly tugging at the restraints keeping his arms above his head, beautifully exposed, defenceless and at Steve's mercy.

It’s a sight Steve will never get sick of, will never not feast on – especially when his eyes catch all the signs of love he left on pale skin, all the marks, the claims, the trails of colour painting his boyfriend’s body.

Lust reflecting back at him from Eddie’s strained neck that’s covered in bruises, angry red lines revealing where Steve dragged his nails a little too rough over sensitive skin, remains of a greedy mouth baring its teeth – Steve’s art scattered all over this bare perfection in front of him.

Eddie is everything he never thought he could have, submissively offering himself to be used in every way he knows they both enjoy when they indulge in this dissolute act of love.

It’s his favourite game.

   “Don’t think you’ve earned it, yet,” Steve answers his boyfriend’s feeble attempt to make him relent, to give what he’s so desperate for.

Later, not now. Steve isn’t done playing his wicked games and he knows Eddie can take some more; it would be such a waste to skip this part just because Eddie is a little cock slut, needy for Steve’s dick to stuff him and fill him up.

Eddie jerks when Steve pulls at the clamps biting into his nipples, giving each side a rough tug that must send painful ripples of electric shocks through his body.

   “Ow! Oh fuck, Steve! Please, I can’t-“

His voice cracks, words dissolving into an unintelligible sequence of pitiful sounds when Steve grants himself permission to pull again, harder this time.

   “Did you say something? Couldn’t hear you over your pathetic whining.”

It’s his second favourite part of the game, to provoke and be mean, to remind Eddie who’s in charge and who isn’t, let the little Devil inside him take the lead.

   “Keep complaining and I won’t give you anything,” Steve warns and Eddie tries to comply but seems unable to swallow the needy whimpers that break through his parted lips.

   “I’ll give you what you need. I always take care of you, don’t I?”

Eddie nods weakly.

   “Use your words, baby.”

Steve’s thumbs and fingers linger on either side of the clamps, not pinching, not pulling, just resting there as a silent threat Eddie understands wordlessly.

   “A-always. You always take care of me,” he stammers, voice weak but with certainty in his words because he knows Steve will never not give him what he needs.

It’s wonderful, bad for his already too big ego but a treat nonetheless. To hold such power over someone else makes him feel superior, godlike almost, with the way Eddie bows to him. Perfectly obedient, unless he’s being a brat but even then, Steve never loses the upper hand, knows exactly what to say and do, how to create a scene that fulfills both their needs.

   “Exactly. And that’s why you’re going to stop begging like a needy little whore and let me take my time with you.”

Careful, almost gentle compared to his earlier actions, Steve relieves Eddie from the torment, giving the overstimulated nerves in his nipples a moment to relax, letting him shiver through the lingering pain just long enough for him to catch his breath before he continues the teasing torture.

It’s too inviting, the sight of reddened skin and swollen flesh, so he gives into his sadistic nature and lets his thumbs rub in pretend-soothing circles around the sensitive area.

Eddie cries out for Steve to stop but he doesn’t mean it, not really – he knows what to say when he needs Steve to slow down. So, Steve keeps going unfazed, closing his mouth around one of the hardened buds to suck at it, greedy and rough, until Eddie’s moans turn to soft, defeated little whimpers.

   “Sorry, baby,” Steve says, not feeling sorry at all.

His lips curl into a wicked grin when he notices the tear streaks on Eddie’s face and it fills him with a twisted sense of pride that he’s the one responsible for making his boyfriend cry.

It’s paradox. Steve loves Eddie with all his heart, would never hurt him, wants nothing more than to see him smile. But this right here is different, those tears are good tears, this is the good kind of pain, the one that makes Eddie beg for more.

And beg he does, insistent and impatient, needs something inside to fill the emptiness, his loose hole clenching around nothing now that the plug they’ve used to open him up lies abandoned on the side of the bed. Steve crawls further up between his thighs, can’t bite down a mean laugh when he sees Eddie’s eyes widen, probably thinking he’s finally getting what he’s been asking for. He doesn’t, is the thing, all he gets is Steve’s hardness brushing his skin, leaving a trail of slickness on its way when he leans over him, untying the rope around his wrists.

Slowly, he brings Eddie’s arms down, thumbs rubbing over the faint redness he caused by pulling too hard, fighting against the restraints he specifically had asked for. Steve kisses each wrist before he drops them on either side of Eddie’s body.

   “Kiss me,” he demands, and Eddie complies instantly, lifts his head to capture Steve’s lips with his own.

The kiss is deep but slow, some calm before a storm only Steve knows is coming.

   “Turn around,” Steve commands when they part, voice stern and eyes not leaving Eddie’s, who looks at him with a mix of confused frustration and thrilling excitement.

On his hands and knees, Eddie offers a sight that makes Steve’s cock throb, makes it hard to resist the urge to push inside. To take without warning and finally give in to Eddie’s pleas.

Not yet, though. Eddie’s going to have to earn it. And so does Steve.

The thing about playing with Eddie like this, about taunting him by making him wait and beg and then wait some more, is that Steve, too, had to learn patience and how to maintain control over his own body’s reactions. Not wanting to lose himself too early, not wanting to miss out on the reward of falling together.

Steve places both hands on Eddie’s hips, feeling just a little bit bad for making it seem as if he’s aligning himself with his boyfriend’s ass, hole gaping and ready to take him.

   “Will you fuck me, please?”

Eddie opens his legs some more, hips swaying in Steve’s hold – he’s getting impatient, desperate to be filled.

   “No.” It’s such a small word, two letters that hold so much power because it’s all Steve has to say to make Eddie lose his mind.

Before he can complain, Steve’s hands slide down, grabbing his ass with both hands, fingernails digging into tender flesh and burning skin, digging deep enough to leave marks before letting go completely

Eddie cries out a weak little ‘Oh, fuck!’, voice trembling with anticipation. He knows what’s coming, knows how Steve will make him earn his right to be fucked.

   “Are you gonna be my good little whore?” Steve asks and Eddie answers with a nod and a whimper as he braces himself for what’s to come, no doubt already starting to become headless, always getting a little dumb when Steve degrades him with words.

When he calls him a slut. A toy. A stupid, cock-drunk mess.

Baby or whore, it doesn’t really matter what he calls him; Eddie can be both and Steve can say either with love – they’re interchangeable, mean the same thing in the language they share like a secret code.

The first contact of Steve’s palm with Eddie’s ass is barely more than a hard tap, nothing to really cause pain, only to slightly warm up his cheek. So does the second and third, but before Eddie can ask for more, Steve’s hand sinks down again with a loud smack, making rosy colour bloom on pale skin.

   “Ah! Yes, yes fuck, more please!”

One, two, three, four, five more slaps, each one harder than the one before, Steve’s hand striking down in the rhythm to Eddie’s cries, every hit drawing out another beautiful sound that goes straight to his own dick.

Steve loses count but the angry red colour in the shape of his hands is spurring him on to keep going until Eddie’s moans turn into sobbing.

   “What’s wrong, baby? D’you need me to stop? Or do you want me to go harder? Your choice.” Steve grins, tongue licking over his teeth like a hungry hyena, excitement pulsing in his lower half because he already knows what Eddie’s answer will be.

   “H-harder. Please, Steve. Need it.”

Always so polite, his perfect boy.

How could Steve resist when he’s asking so nicely?

Only when Eddie’s arms give up and he falls face-first into the mattress, does Steve stop. He marvels at the art he created on his boyfriend’s skin, red and hot, burning under his fingertips as he lets them trail over soon-to-be bruises he’ll have to tend to later.

He lifts Eddie’s weakened body up, holds him by his hips and then, finally, pushes the swollen, purple tip of his cock into the waiting heat that’s been yearning to be filled for so long.

Eddie’s back arches beautifully when Steve thrusts deeper, doesn’t need to hold back, not when Eddie is so open and willing to let him in.

And then he fucks him. Hips snapping hard against Eddie’s sore ass, pulling cry after moan after pathetic little whimper out of the other man’s throat. They’re both too deep, too far gone already, won’t last long, not after building up all this tension and pressure and overwhelming neediness. Ready to fall and come and burst at the seams, lose themselves to each other.

   “You should see yourself. Fuck, baby!” Steve’s eyes are transfixed on the place between his thighs where he watches himself sink deeper, watches Eddie’s body welcome him, swallow him, stretch around him so perfectly. “Taking me so well, so good for me. Ah! So tight! Shit.”

Eddie comes first, cock neglected and untouched, spurts all over himself and the sheets, and the noises he makes are what tips Steve over the edge, spilling his release into the depths of Eddie’s body, shaking apart as he rides out his own orgasm.

He watches the mess he made when he pulls out slowly, watches the trail of his own cum trickling out of Eddie’s sloppy hole, can’t help but to push it back where it belongs, pumping two fingers inside with no resistance where he’d just been buried balls-deep.

Beneath him, Eddie bucks his hips, moaning and panting – Steve knows he’s had enough, knows he would still let him play with him for hours more if Steve insisted.

It’s tempting, his greedy inner Devil already rubbing his hands at the thought. He could plug him, make him keep Steve’s cum inside, could make him suck his spent cock until they’re both hard again.

But there’s always time for that later, tomorrow, the day after – Steve’s not going anywhere and neither is Eddie. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them, enough years still left to be young and reckless.

Eddie deserves a break, deserves to be loved in a gentler way after being so good, so obedient, so perfect.

Groaning, obviously wrung out and exhausted, sore in all kinds of places, Eddie turns to lie on his back, hissing when his ass hits the sheets.

Steve’s beside him, eyes roaming over his boyfriend’s body, taking in the state of him. Come stains on his belly, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, his legs still slightly trembling, and his mind probably floating somewhere far away – Eddie is a mess in every sense of the word and Steve is about to make it worse. Just a little. Just as a treat for himself before he’s actually going to take care of his sweet boy.

He leans down, parted lips hovering over stained skin, hot breath tickling his boyfriend’s abdomen.

   “Ste-heeve! Stevie, whatcha doing?” Eddie giggles, sounds high or maybe drunk; drunk on Steve, maybe, wouldn’t that be something?

   “Just wanna give back what belongs to you,” he answers vaguely before darting his tongue out.

Eddie squirms, shaking with laughter that turns into a loud moan when Steve’s tongue trails from his pelvis up to his navel, lapping up Eddie’s cum on its way. When he comes back up so he’s face-to-face with the other man, Eddie is already looking at him with wide, curious eyes.

He nods frantically to answer a question Steve didn’t ask and opens his mouth. Steve pushes two fingers over the waiting tongue spilling over his bottom lip, forcing his jaw to open wider before he lets a string of saliva drip from his mouth to Eddie’s, sharing the taste of his own cum with him. It's filthy and beautiful, makes him feel hot all over, regretting the fact that he can't give him more.

   “Good boy,” he teases, tapping Eddie’s cheek with his spit-coated fingers as he watches his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows Steve’s gift obediently.

Eddie’s eyelids flutter shut, expression soft, and Steve seals his lips with a kiss.

   “God, I can’t believe how perfect you are,” Steve’s heart flips when Eddie opens his eyes again, sparkling, dark, and full of adoration and love.

   “So perfect. All for me, only me.”

   “Only you,” Eddie agrees, says it like it’s a promise and Steve feels overcome with selfish satisfaction at the thought of being the only one who’ll ever get to see him like this. The only one to touch him like that. To love him this way.

   “How are you feeling?”

   “Hmm, perfect. Thank you.”

Eddie sounds sleepy, eyelids heavy and hardly staying open. Steve proudly thinks to himself that he must’ve done a real good job tiring him out. But he can’t have Eddie fall asleep like that.

   “Let’s get you in the shower, baby.”

-----

The water is warm and comforting, easing the strain in Eddie’s aching body. Steve doesn’t stop kissing him while he gently scrubs him clean, careful not to hurt him where his skin has already started to change colour.

Steve loves this part, the after, when he gets to worship Eddie’s body with care, soft and slow, different than before but just as wonderful.

Intimacy comes in many forms and although Steve really, really enjoys the rougher side of it, loves to give in to the raw and brute kind of his own desires, he can’t deny that this, here, is even better. To hold an exhausted Eddie in his arms like this, close to his own heart, gently caressing the skin he blemished before, taking care of the bruises and scratch marks, the shapes, and colours Steve left on every part of him, fills him with a different kind of satisfaction.

To be the one allowed to put Eddie back together after tearing him to pieces, is an honour, something Steve cherishes a lot.

When they fall into bed together, naked, and soft, and tired, Steve pulls Eddie close to his chest, whispering love confessions into his hair until Eddie’s breathing calms and he can feel his body sink deeper into the embrace, slowly drifting as sleep takes a hold of him.

His own heart matches the rhythm of Eddie’s, a slow but strong beat that sounds like a love song written only for them. Because they belong together. There could never be anyone else for Steve; his heart and soul belong to Eddie and Eddie alone. And for as long as he'll let him, Steve will give Eddie everything he needs, everything he wants, and sometimes even more than that.

Eddie is his to hold. To fuck and tease. To hurt in all the good ways and to love. No one else but Steve is allowed to touch him like that.

   “Only me,” he whispers once more, a little selfish and a lot possessive but he knows that’s okay because it’s true. And it makes him smile, content and satisfied, before exhaustion finally pulls him under.

[in1-nutshell]

TRANSFORMERS ONE IS OUT! Unfortunately, I couldn't watch it in theaters because work and money is a bit tight right now. I can't wait for this movie to come out in YouTube Movies to watch it. Since we both know it's obviously gonna have a sad ending, do you mind if I added a bit more sadness in this request? Orion Pax has a younger sibling that he raised named Buddy. Buddy loves both Orion Pax and D-16 as a family. Buddy is willing to bite some ankles if anybody was mean to someone Buddy cares about. Buddy is also tagging along with them in the adventures, much to Orion's dismay and dread. I heard there is gonna be a fight between them at the near ending. Buddy is horrified and scared that those two bots that Buddy considered their family is now fighting each other as enemies. Buddy begs and screams at them to stop, but Optimus and Megatron obviously won't. When Optimus and Megatron shoot each other at the same time, in a moment of panic and terror for their loved ones - Buddy jumps in between them and get hit by both of their shots accidentally that immediately offlined Buddy. They both stopped fighting in shock and grief. Buddy's death was the final straw between Optimus and Megatron's relationship. When Megatron and Optimus went in their separate ways, they both knew the war had begun. Characters: Orion Pax, D-16, Bumblebee, and Elita-one. Please and thank you!

Trying to get the TF1 fics out a bit early so we have something to read.

Hope you enjoy!

Slight mention of spoiler in the movie

Bot Buddy being Orion Pax's younger sibling

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Character death (you have been warned!), Cybertronian reader

TF1

Buddy was one of the youngest miners in the group.

They did get some special treatment from certain bots but was otherwise expected to act just like everyone else.

One bot in particular took interest in the younger bot.

Orion Pax was his name.

He saw a lot of himself in the younger bot and offered his companionship.

The younger bot quickly latched onto him faster than rust.

It didn’t take long for them to fall into a sibling dynamic.

Soon D-16 was introduced.

D-16: “So let me get this straight. You saw them and decided to be their friend and the next thing you know your siblings?” Orion: “That’s pretty much it.” D-16 shakes his helm in good humor. D-16: “Sometimes I can’t with you.” Buddy swings their arms around him and Orion. Buddy: “Get used to it D! You’re one of us now!” D-16: “As long as you’re not like this rusty bucket its fine.” Orion: “Hey!” Buddy chuckles: “Don’t worry about that D.” 2 weeks later… D-16 watching Buddy trying to drop kick Darkwing after he ‘accidentally’ knocked their energon cart. D-16: “Primus… they’re worse…” Orion pats D-16 on the back. Orion: “Yep… want to help them out?” Both mech’s wince seeing Buddy get punched in the chassis. D-16: “…Fine.”

Buddy always kept their brothers on their pedes with their antics.

Always kept them both on alert.

Buddy loved to randomly jump on their shoulders or try and pick them up.

Despite their antics, Buddy was a good miner and even managed to do something most miners couldn’t do.

Get on Elita-One’s good side.

No one knows what exactly happened between them both for Buddy to get a bit of favoritism.

Elita refuses to elaborate and Buddy likes to see bots squirm for the answer.

Buddy hands Elita a spare jetpack. Elita: “Buddy I already have a jetpack.” Buddy: “We’re going to need it.” Elita raises an optic but ignores it. Later… Elita: “… How did you know—” Buddy: “The jetpacks are old Elita. Its only a matter of time before someone falls from a faulty one.” Elita pats their helm. Elita: “When I get promoted, I might just ask to move you to be my assistant.” Buddy: “No! I don’t want any more work!” Elita: “Too late, already considering it.” Buddy: “Orion tell her to stop being mean!”

Buddy was helping Elita get used to her new role in waste management when they saw who was on the Iacon 500.

They cheered for their brothers with everyone else.

The bot let out a yelp when they saw D-16 get hurt, but quickly smiled seeing Orion try and help him to the finish line.

…Too bad Chromia won the race.

Good news, Buddy was now a couple shanix richer from the betting pool.

 While they were heading to the med bay to go see Orion and D-16, they quickly hid seeing Darkwing picking them up and leading them somewhere.

Orion and D-16 talking to B-127 when something big falls on to the conveyer belt and jumps off it. Buddy dusts themselves from the junk. Buddy turns and waves at the bots. B-127: “New friend!” Orion and D-16: “Buddy!?” They both go over to Buddy looking for any injuries. Buddy: “Hey quit it! I’m not dying!” Orion: “What are you doing here?” Buddy: “Well I was going to the med bay to congratulate you two, but Darkwing got to you first. Then I had to wait a while until the coast was clear and find out where you were sent. It’s kinda fun going through the shoot though.” D-16: “What you did was—” B-127 pushes D-16 out of the way and shakes Buddy’s servo. B-127: “Hi there! I’m B-127, or you can call me B or—” Buddy: “Wait! I can be B and you can be BB!” B-127: “Or maybe we can go by the Double B’s!” B-127 and Buddy start chatting up a storm. Orion: “What just happened?” D-16: “I don’t know but I don’t like it…”

Orion catches Buddy up on the new information on Alpha Trion.

Buddy is ready to go.

Orion and D-16 try to get them to stay, but Buddy ends up joining.

They are having a blast climbing the crates inside the train as Orion tries to get Elita.

Buddy stared long and hard at the landscape when the group reached to the surface.

Is sprinting with B-127 the moment the giant rock formations start getting closer.

Grips Orion and D-16’s servo when they all get tossed out of the train.

Their chatting and B-127’s chatting makes the other older bots consider gagging them for the remainder of the trip.

When reaching the cave of the fallen Prime’s, they gently hold D-16’s servo as they silently mourn for Megatronus Prime.

Hides behind Elita when Alpha Trion comes back online and nearly decks Orion in the face.

Cries a little bit seeing what Sentinel had done to the other Prime’s.

They deserved so much better than that fate.

Absolutely seething with D-16 when the group sees Sentinel giving the Quintesson��s THEIR hard earned energon.

Once everyone gets their T-cog’s, Buddy is the first to try and transform… unfortunately they did not get it the first time.

The group was running down the hill. Buddy’s helm gets tucked into their frame. Buddy: “I CAN’T SEE! I CAN’T SEE!” Orion starts laughing Orion: “HAHAHAHA—AAH WHERE’S MY HEAD?!”

Buddy gets a bad feeling about D-16 when he starts talking to Orion but brushes it off as stress.

They hoped they were right, especially after he admitted to wanting to terminate Sentinel.

Don’t get them wrong, they absolutely hate the bot now, but to go so far as terminate him?

It didn’t seem right.

Was the first one to get tased and wake up.

They get excited the second they see Starscream, Shockwave and Soundwave.

B-127 and Buddy both tell the other’s who the High guard were.

An excitement that quickly turns into frightened when they see D-16 beating up Starscream.

They tried to get to him, but the crowd wouldn’t let them.

Buddy looked over at Orion, both sharing the same look of worry and fear for their brother.

They end up getting captured by Arachnid with B-127 and D-16 after the explosion.

Orion is riddled with guilt the second Elita tells him that Buddy, D-16 and B-127 were captured with some of the high guard.

Thankfully, he and Elita made a plan with the remainder of the guard to help get the others and bring Sentinel to justice.

Back at Iacon…

Buddy was in between D-16 and B-127 on the ground, restrained as Sentinel prattled about having them executed.

They felt their spark stop for a second when D-16 stood up.

Arachnid had to restrain them when Sentinel started branding Megatronus’s face on D-16’s chassis.

Buddy kicks the spider in the back of one of her legs. She lets go. The younger bot then kicks Sentinel in the back of his knee joints before helm butting him. Snetinel staggers back a bit. They stood in front of D-16 with fury in their optics. Buddy: “Touch my brother again and I swear I will send you to Primus myself!” Many of the captured bots looked in surprise at the young bot protecting the fallen miner. B-127: “Buddy just stay down!” D-16 tries to stand up the second he sees Sentinel start to move to them. D-16: “Buddy get out of the way!” Buddy: “Fat chance!” Buddy tries to kick Sentinel again, but this time the Prime grabbed their pede and with a swift movement twisted it. SNAP! Buddy: “AAAAHHH—” WHAM! Sentinel punched Buddy across the face sending them skidding across the floor. D-16: “BUDDY!” He glares at Sentinel. D-16: “Stop! Your fight is with me!” Sentinel: “No, they made it personal when they helm butted me. Its time to make an example.”

Thankfully the train had just crashed into the building.

Orion hops out and helps D-16 and Buddy up.

Orion briefly thinks on punching Sentinel in the face but is quickly drowned by D-16 yelling that he was going to terminate Sentinel.

Buddy tried to tell Orion that something was wrong, but their older brother was gone, off to tell everyone the truth about what Sentinel did.

They did their best in battling the other guards with their bad pede.

The bot screamed in horror when they saw D-16 and Sentinel going off the edge.

It took them a while to get to where the fight was.

They remembered seeing D-16 holding an extremely injured Orion over the edge of a dark hole.

They didn’t remember screaming, but their voice box started glitching when they saw D-16 let go of Orion’s servo.

Elita and B-127 were by their side holding them tightly, afraid they would try and jump off the ledge to get to him.

Buddy remembered looking at D-16 giving his speech.

Their audial winced when he called himself ‘Megatron’.

They had to close their optics for a second, not believing they had seen a newer version of Orion, now calling himself Optimus Prime.

The two former brothers fought.

Megatron and Optimus were on the ground wrestling the former’s fusion cannon. They barely registered the sounds of pedes coming closer. Megatron: “Let go!” Optimus: “Never!” Suddenly the cannon went off. A scream. THUD! Both mech’s look over and see Buddy’s frame laying on the ground…so still. Optimus quickly gets off Megatron and runs to Buddy. Optimus: “Buddy!” Optimus gets to the frame. Buddy’s optics were offline and there was a smoldering hole in the middle of their chassis where their spark was supposed to be. Optimus gently cradles them. Optimus: “Buddy! Buddy please! Buddy… please… don’t…” He gently hugs the limp frame, not caring in that moment if Megatron blasted him. Megatron just stood up and stared. He wanted to scream. To yell. Megatron wanted to hug his little sibling frame and pray to Primus that this was not happening. Optimus gently places the frame down, stands up and looks at Megatron dead in the optics. Optimus: “Take the High Guard and go. You are banished from Iacon.” Megatron starts walking away but stops for a moment to take one last look at Buddy’s still frame before yelling for his troops to follow him.

There was a small funeral held for Buddy.

 Optimus made sure to hold it together in front of the others.

But Elita and B-127 caught him alone, sobbing with a picture of Buddy, Orion, and D-16, smiling, without a care in the world.

The two bots held their leader tightly as he continued to sob.

Megatron mourned for Buddy in private.

It was only right.

He cried in silence holding a picture of him, Buddy, and Orion Pax on their first day of mining.

In the safety of his habsuite, he could cry all he wanted before his Decepticon’s expected him to come out with a rally cry.

[angelicpoison12]

you’re too sweet for me ⭑

wordcount: 928

he’s your knight in shining armor. you’re his little doll <3

tags: MFA, reader isn’t specified in gender, afab!reader genitalia, size difference kink, smut, i was listening to Ayesha Erotica while writing this fyi, short!reader, cunnilingus, scent kink, marking kink, oral (r receiving)

NO SPOILERS OF DEADPOOL 3: DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE

18+, NSFW ❤︎︎

⫘⫘⫘୨୧⫘⫘⫘

“i told you, i can do it myself!”

you snapped, feeling your soon-to-be husband’s hands trying to help you open a jar.

“you sure about that, doll?”

Logan asked, his voice tender. you muttered something about being pissed, but the feeling melted almost immediately when his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing to the soft skin of your neck. he then rested his chin on your head, asking,

“still need help?”

finally giving in, you wordlessly nodded, and let Logan’s large hands cup the jar. he grunted a little but eventually got it open. you swore you felt his left bicep flex against your own arm, and the thought made you shiver involuntarily.

“there ya go, baby,”

“what’s with the mix of nicknames? seeing someone else?”

“oh, somebody’s rather feisty today,”

Logan cooed, nibbling on your ear. the sensation made you crumble, your knees going weak. your grip on the jelly jar was mere now, and you felt your breath hitch when Logan’s hands slid from your hips to the button of your blue jeans.

“Logan, babe.. I-my sandwich-“

you stammered, squeaking when he lifted you effortlessly, throwing your small frame over his broad shoulder.

“fuck your sandwich. i’ve got two pieces of bread that i need to fill,”

your fiancé remarked, smacking your ass in appreciation. the sensation made you yelp quietly, starting to squirm in a (fake) attempt to fight back.

“hey, hey, no kicking,”

Logan chuckled, playfully gripping one of your ankles. when he led you to the bedroom, he made sure to close the door before lying you on the bed. he looked over you. you always adored the way Logan looked at you. his eyes always were full of love, adoration… as if you were his sweet little doll. he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“you’re so sweet.. so good to me,“

Logan hummed. his lips pressed to your jugular, making you shiver, your heas tipping back in satisfaction. knowing that only Logan could make you feel so weak in the knees, his touch, his lips, everything. even a simple look in your direction made you squirm, and the cocky fucker knew it.

your eyes were glazed and half-lidded as you looked down, watching Logan tug your shirt up, his lips making feathered indents into the flesh of your belly. you turned away, but his hand came up, gently gripping your chin to meet his eyes.

“don’t look away, baby. you’re beautiful.”

he whispered. his voice was soft like an autumn cotton sweater that still had the fuzz; which was oddly specific, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. this was perfect. the way Logan was looking at you made you feel like royalty.

he pressed his nose right into your left hip bone, inhaling deeply, his hands gripping the pudge of your hips.

“so soft.. so warm, all f’me,”

Logan nearly rasped. his teeth bit you, making you squeak and squirm. he licked the teeth marks in a non-verbal apology.

“mine.”

he grunted into your skin, smirking up at you wolfishly. your fingers curled in his hair, the pads of your thumbs running through his kitty curls.

“Logan, babe, please..”

you begged pathetically. you knew what he was going to do, and you did not want to be patient. you wanted to feel Logan ravage you.

“‘please’ what, babe?”

Logan cooed, mocking your meek tone. he slowly tugged your jeans down, letting you kick them off. his thumb rubbed over the cotton clad underwear that covered your sweet slit, his thumb cruelly pressing against your clit, making your back arch into the touch.

“please-! touch me!”

you begged.

“aw, but doll, i am touching you.”

Logan remarked. he pressed a little harder, the touch borderline painful, but it merely added to the pleasure and thrill of it all.

“i need your mouth,”

you whimpered from the specification. Logan only smirked, and his claws came out, slicing right through your underwear.

right before you could yell at him for owing you new ones, his mouth went right to work. Logan’s tongue caressed you all the way from your sopping folds to your swollen clit. his lips curled around your clitoris, his hands spreading your open. he let your legs dangle over his shoulders, allowing his mouth and nose to bury deeper into you.

you let out a cry at the surge of sensations. your fingers continued to run through his hair, occasionally tugging at the strands whenever his pace faltered. Logan groaned into your pussy. his eyes were dark and blown out with animalistic desire when you made eye contact with him. all you could do was bashfully bite your lip. you were always nervous about the eye contact with Logan. he made sure to look up at you 24/7, completely aware of how cute you looked when he was giving you an onslaught of pleasure.

Logan would occasionally take a break, sliding his fingers in and out of your little sloppy hole. the wet noises accompanied his movements, his teeth and tongue leaving deep hickeys into the meat of your thighs and hips. he’d constantly mutter “mine, mine, mine..” over and over again. he was possessive of everything about you; your smell, your taste, your noises. everything. he couldn’t bear the thought of knowing you had belonged to someone else seemingly before he had came along.

but he didn’t let that make him falter. if anything, he focused more, more on making you cum all over his tongue.

your thighs were shaking when you came. you were nearly blubbering, your hands over your face, Logan’s mouth nose-deep inside of your depths. he hummed, lapping up your release. you eventually became too sensitive and tried pushing him away, only to have your wrists pinned down by his large, veiny hands.

“nuh uh. you know your safe word. let me get my lunch in,”

Logan said with a wicked grin. of course, your man wasn’t cruel. he left soft, long strokes up and down your sensitive nub, letting your body slowly but surely get back to its normal levels of sensitivity.

he was right. he’d get his fill, and you’d be able to get your sandwich.. in an hour or so, if you were lucky.

⫘⫘⫘୨୧⫘⫘⫘

my sweet snowflake buddies!

@6esiree , @cosmiiwrites , @frxstwalker

[domm1etae]

Birthday gift

y/n x yeosang

oneshot | mdni

2.7k

Yeosang gives his lover the perfect birthday gift

nsfw tags under

f/m, top yeosang, moaning, teasing, praising, oral sex , vaginal sex, kissing, make out, i love you, etc.

"Yeosang," his name escaped your lips in a breathless, needy whine that only fueled the devilish grin spreading across his face. His eyes glinted with mischief as they roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on your breasts before they met your own gaze, a fire burning in their depths.

“You really want it, don’t you?” His voice was rough, low, like a dark promise waiting to unfold. Your eyes were drawn to his broad chest, muscles flexing as his hand trailed down, gripping his hardened length through his tight dress pants. You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of his strong hand wrapping around himself, giving an effortless squeeze.

He cocked his head, dark strands of hair falling over his eyes as he raised a brow. “Want it, baby?” His voice was a teasing drawl, the corner of his lips twitching up in satisfaction at how you chewed on your bottom lip, desperately trying to contain the moan threatening to spill.

Yeosang knew exactly the effect he had on you. It was a power he wielded effortlessly, and tonight, he was enjoying watching you squirm beneath the weight of your desire. The way your teeth tugged on your lip, the way your thighs pressed together, aching for him.

He wasn’t surprised that your night had taken such a wicked turn. In fact, he had been planning for this ever since he caught you snooping through your shared bedroom, trying to find the birthday present he’d hidden from you. You were too impatient, too eager, and now, he had taken your gift and slipped it into the pocket of his pants, taunting you. What followed was a playful chase around the house, laughter filling the air as Yeosang dodged your every attempt to catch him.

Until, that is, he let himself be cornered — right back where you started, in your bedroom. His back was against the wall, but his lips were curved into a knowing smirk. He was letting you think you had won.

Breathing hard, you had charged at him, but as soon as you reached out for the gift, you’d accidentally grabbed something else — his cock, thick and ready beneath his pants. A dangerous chuckle escaped his lips, his hand immediately covering yours.

“Oh, baby, I don’t think that’s the present you were after,” he teased, his voice a husky murmur against your ear, making your knees go weak.

Now, you stood there, panting, arousal coursing through your veins as Yeosang backed you against the bed. His tall frame towered over yours, his smoldering gaze holding you captive.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, eyes trailing down your body. “You’re already desperate for me, and I haven’t even unzipped my pants yet.” His gaze flicked back up to yours, sharp and heated. “Is my birthday girl really that eager?”

You nodded, the words catching in your throat. But that wasn’t good enough for him. His lips curved into a devilish frown, his voice coming out as a soft, playful reprimand.

“Ah, ah. Use your words, princess. I want to hear you say it.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your breath hitched, knowing what he wanted. “Yes, Yeosang… I want it,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with need. His answering smile was dangerous, like a predator who had his prey exactly where he wanted it.

“Good girl.”

Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned his pants, your eyes locked onto the sight, anticipation building as his hands moved expertly. Every inch of fabric that fell away revealed more of the taut muscle of his thighs, his bare skin almost glistening under the dim light of your room. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, your body already aching to feel him against you.

When his pants hit the floor, he wasted no time. His boxers were pushed down swiftly, revealing his thick, throbbing cock, the tip already glistening with precum. Yeosang’s eyes never left yours as he wrapped a hand around himself, slowly stroking, teasing.

“Look at you,” he drawled, his voice dripping with lust. “You’re practically drooling for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He was right. You were barely holding it together. But you wanted to feel him, touch him, taste him. With a burst of boldness, you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head and letting it drop to the floor. You stood there, completely bare, your nipples hard, your skin flushed with heat.

Yeosang’s eyes darkened as he took you in, his gaze hungry, devouring every inch of your exposed body. His lips parted slightly, and a groan escaped him as his hand stroked himself harder.

“Come here,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. You obeyed, moving to the bed and climbing on top of him. His cock twitched in your hand as you took over, replacing his grip with your own, your fingers gliding over his slick length. His lips crushed against yours, hot and demanding, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

Switching hands, you slid your fingers between your legs, gathering the slickness of your arousal, and rubbed it along the length of his shaft. Yeosang’s head fell back into the pillows, a guttural moan spilling from his throat at the contact.

“Fuck, baby…” he rasped, his voice strained, his thighs tensing beneath you. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”

But you didn’t stop. His pleasure fueled your own, and you stroked him with renewed focus, watching as his breathing quickened, his muscles tensing beneath your touch.

“Let me,” you whispered softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock before swirling your tongue around it. He groaned, his hands fisting in the sheets as you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him deeper.

His hips bucked up slightly as your mouth moved up and down, his cock throbbing against your tongue. “Fuck, baby, I need you. I need to taste you,” he begged between gasps, his hand resting on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

With one last long lick, you released him, smirking at the wrecked expression on his face. “Okay,” you teased, crawling up his body. “But don’t lose control just yet.”

You positioned yourself above him, his strong hands guiding your hips until your slick folds hovered right above his mouth. The second his tongue flicked out to taste you, a sharp gasp left your lips, and you had to steady yourself on the headboard, fighting the urge to grind down against his face.

"Yeosang!" His name fell from your lips in a high-pitched moan, and you rocked against his mouth, his tongue teasing your clit in slow, languid strokes. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, keeping you in place as he devoured you.

You could barely concentrate, the pleasure clouding your mind, but you were determined. Leaning down, you took his cock back into your mouth, sucking him with renewed fervor. The combination of his tongue on you and the taste of him filling your senses had your head spinning, both of you lost in the intensity of the moment.

He was the first to pull away, his voice strained as he gasped for breath. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You smirked, sitting up slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

Yeosang groaned, his eyes closing as he thrust up into your hand, but then his hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you off him. “Not yet, princess. I want to be inside you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you climbed off him, positioning yourself to straddle his hips. His cock was hard and leaking, practically begging for you, but he was patient, watching you with hooded eyes as you lined him up with your entrance.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust as you slowly sank down onto him, taking him inch by inch. The stretch was intense, but the pleasure soon followed, washing over you in waves as you finally seated yourself fully on top of him.

“Yeosang…” His name was a breathless moan as you adjusted, feeling him deep inside you, filling you completely. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you as you began to move, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion as you leaned down to kiss him. His lips met yours in a desperate, heated kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands tightened on your hips, helping you set a rhythm that had you both gasping for breath.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he groaned against your lips, his hips thrusting up to meet yours, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “You’re mine… all mine.”

Your movements became more frantic, your body chasing the release that was building rapidly inside you. Yeosang’s thrusts became harder, faster, and soon, you were both a tangled mess of limbs and moans, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as youfelt the tightening in your core, the tension building with every deep, deliberate thrust he gave you. His hands moved to your ass, guiding you, pulling you down harder onto his cock as he panted against your neck, whispering, "Cum for me, princess. I want to feel you lose it on my cock."

His words sent a shiver through your body, making the coil in your belly tighten even further. You could barely keep yourself upright as you rocked your hips, each movement drawing you closer to the edge. His cock hit that sweet spot over and over again, and with a loud cry, your body finally gave in.

"Yeosang!" you moaned, your voice high-pitched and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life as you came hard around him. Your pussy clenched tightly, pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, your orgasm so intense it left you shaking.

Yeosang groaned beneath you, feeling you contract around his cock, your tight walls squeezing him in a way that was driving him insane. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust up into you, chasing his own release.

Even through the haze of your orgasm, you couldn’t help but admire the sight of him beneath you. His face was flushed, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead as he bit his bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut as he lost himself in the sensation of being buried deep inside you.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his jaw, then his neck, murmuring his name between kisses. "I love you," you whispered against his skin, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm coursing through you.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice strained as he reached his breaking point. “Fuck, I’m close.”

With a groan, Yeosang flipped you over, rolling you beneath him as he took control. He thrust into you with renewed intensity, his cock slamming into you with a raw hunger that had you crying out in pleasure again. His face hovered inches above yours, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he gazed down at you with nothing but pure desire.

“You're so beautiful,” he panted, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your lips. His gaze was heavy, intense, as if he couldn't get enough of you, as if he wanted to savor every second of this moment.

Your body arched into his touch, his words making your heart race even faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you, relishing the way his cock stretched you open with each powerful thrust. You were so close again, the feeling of him inside you, his body pressed against yours, sending you right back toward the edge.

"Please, Yeosang…" You whimpered, barely able to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as your body succumbed to the pleasure. "Please… don't stop."

His smirk returned, dark and teasing, as he leaned down to kiss your swollen lips. "I'm not stopping until you scream my name."

With that promise hanging in the air, he increased his pace, driving into you harder, deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Your nails dug into his back, leaving red trails as you held onto him, your body completely at his mercy.

And then it hit you. Your second orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, stronger and more overwhelming than the first. Your entire body tensed, your back arching off the bed as your pussy clenched around him tightly, milking his cock as you screamed his name.

"Yeosang!" The sound of his name on your lips sent him spiraling. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep into you one last time.

"I'm cumming, fuck—" His voice was rough, ragged, as his orgasm took over. His cock throbbed inside you as he spilled into you, thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim. He moaned your name against your neck, his hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there would be marks the next morning.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing as you both came down from the high. Yeosang's body trembled slightly as he pulled out of you, a hiss escaping his lips at the sensitivity. You both gasped when you felt his warm cum drip out of you, leaving a sticky mess between your thighs.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you snuggled into his chest. His skin was warm, his heartbeat still racing beneath your ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers trailing soothingly along your back.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice tender now, a stark contrast to the hunger he had shown you moments ago.

You smiled, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart swelled with the warmth of his affection, and you felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you.

After a moment, Yeosang reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the small black velvet box. He handed it to you with a grin, his eyes soft but still filled with that playful spark.

"Here," he said, watching you with anticipation. "Your real present."

You sat up slightly, opening the box carefully, and your breath hitched when you saw the beautiful locket nestled inside. It was delicate, intricately designed, and when you opened it, your heart skipped a beat. Inside was a picture of you and Yeosang from your very first date, taken over a year ago. On the other side of the locket was an inscription that read, "I loved you first."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked at him, a smile spreading across your face. "You're really not going to let that go, are you?"

Yeosang chuckled, helping you fasten the locket around your neck. "Never. According to this," he tapped the locket gently, "I said it first."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled with love. "Fine," you teased, "but I love you more."

His grin widened, and he pulled you into another kiss, his lips lingering on yours before he leaned back, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You ready for round two, birthday girl?" His voice was low and full of promise, his hand sliding down your back to rest on your waist.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you bit your bottom lip, feeling his body stir against yours once more. "Most definitely," you whispered huskily, leaning in close.

He chuckled, flipping you onto your back with ease as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with lust and affection. "Happy birthday, princess."

With that, he kissed you deeply, and you knew the night was far from over.

[itsonlydana]

I saw you opened requests and thought if you were inspired could you do a little sequel to "I Didn't Know That I Was Starving Till I Tasted You". I absolutely adore that story it is SO good!

Midnight Meetings in our Kitchen | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader👑

The night before the reopening of his restaurant, Thranduil is feeling antsy - you try your best to coax him back into bed.

warnings/tags: none

word count: 2,7k

an: This has taken me months to write and I apologize for the delay! My mind was just as frazzled as Thranduil's.

requests: please check pinned post

+ masterlist + rules +🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

You woke up alone and to the faint metallic sound of pots clanking in the kitchen. The hand you blindly reach over to the other side of the bed comes in contact with a cold mattress and rumbled sheets, no residue warmth of the person that held you until you fell asleep nor any sign that he actually slept and not gotten back up immediately as soon as you had closed your eyes to his even breathing.

This is not the first time Thranduil snuck out of bed – in the weeks you now shared one it has become all the clearer how often he actually strayed through the apartment while you were deep in a slumber – but it is the first time he did it after he promised to stay. 

It would be easy to let the anger and frustration fester, let it grow either in a thoughtless fight or in weeks of unspoken feelings, and if this was anyone else you would holster these moments like munition. Keeping them close to your heart like ivy holding on to cracked walls. 

Thranduil however, is not anyone else. 

The blanket is pushed aside, your feet step into the slippers by the bedside and in passing of the desk by the door, you grab a cardigan to throw over your shorts and the top you slept in. The moment you open the bedroom door, the sounds from the kitchen grow louder. You quietly creep around the corner, passing by the room where you hardly ever sleep, and find your boyfriend in a familiar stance – leaning over the stove, a spoon in his hand and one in the mess of long hair bundled up in the nape of his neck, barely holding it together; your boyfriend as well as the spoon.

He doesn’t seem to realize you are there, your shoes did a good job silencing the steps, so it is no wonder Thranduil flinches as you wrap your arms around his stomach from behind and press your face against his back. He catches on quickly, snaps out of the murmuring of ingredients and a “Oh,” escapes him in a sigh. “I’ve woken you up, haven’t I?”

“No,” you mumble into the loose shirt. Thranduil is comfortably warm, not by nature – his hands are a blessing in the summer and he made it a sport to tickle you awake with his icey tips as soon as you spent the nights under mountains of blankets – but by the heated kitchen and the many pots boiling in front of him. Lips against the soft fabric, you continue: “But you said you wouldn’t do this. Not tonight, Thran.”

You feel his spine curve as Thranduil sacks into himself slightly, as he stops holding himself up on the counter and instead hugs your arms closer to his chest. His whole body rumbles at another sigh. “I know,” he is tired, his voice drips sleep more than he realizes, “I know, Darling. I will come to bed soon, let me just finish this recipe.”

You lurk past his right side into what you think is a pot of soup? 

“Do you plan on serving it later?” you ask and let your fingers trail over the bunched-up shirt, over the soft hairs on his lean stomach. 

“I’m not sure. It lacks something and I can’t figure out what exactly. Spices I used plenty, the broth is perfection and the vegetables have been in harmony every other time I thought of them.” – Thranduil is the only person in the world who you know can taste a dish without even cooking it, all that happens in his brain is a mysterium – “I need to find.. whatever it is that’s missing before I could serve it.”

“So, you will cook dozens of portions with a tiny thing changed?”

It is meant to be a joke though Thranduil nods. 

He could be unreadable and stubborn, especially these last few weeks. His restaurant ‘The Green Leaf’, is known as the best spot for fine-dining vegan food, praised high and above by the critics for excellent taste, extravagant and beyond thinking of known dishes taken to another level in ways you couldn’t even begin to fathom. Thranduil is precise, cutting dishes that fail his standards and not adding new ones till he reaches perfection only known to him. 

The turn to autumn brought not only harsher winds but it took one of Thranduil’s suppliers to sell out to ‘Oakenshields’, another star restaurant across the street and a thorn in Thranduil’s eyes ever since the press fueled heavy competition between two restaurants that are no were near the same category. They have close to nothing in common, except for two petty as fuck owners with their heads stuck that far up their arses, that they couldn’t see further than their rage. 

Thranduil, mature as he is, reacted to the news of his supplier changing sides – literally and metaphorically – as any normal person would, and decided on a night similar to this one, that he would change every meal that he had previously cooked with the ingredients of ‘the traitor’. Out with entrés made with apples, gone are the burgers simply because the cucumbers are no longer accessible. You realized quickly that going with the flow meant outings to farmer's markets testing fruits and vegetables, negotiating deals with you hanging on his arm, and new recipes he cooks for you to try. The work and effort of many nights waking up to find him in the kitchen all lead to tomorrow, the first day after the restaurant’s summer-closing and the presentation of a completely new constructed menu. 

To say Thranduil is spun tight is an understatement.

“Thranduil –” you sigh, your hot breath slightly wetting his shirt and your lips move against his spine. “This is nonsense and I don’t say this to be mean. You’ve been up the whole day, going through recipes you’ve been sure about and that you know by heart. Trying this won’t do no good; it will only exhaust you.” The tips of your fingers trail through the hair, higher up to lay a flat palm against the firm skin, feeling his intake of breath. You let your touch be gentle if he misunderstands your words. 

Communication between you had never been the problem – well, except for the obvious misunderstanding of the feelings you both had harbored for each other in complete ignorance that the other packaged them up in love languages such as cooking a meal or throwing out flowers of your dates – and you two had gotten even better at speaking your mind to avoid confrontations that could have been cleared up by a simple discussion at dinner or before going to bed. You never went to bed mad at each other, that is the rule you agreed on. You would talk it out and then make up. You have learned that Thranduil’s cold demeanor came on the second he felt vulnerable and alone which is exactly why you lean into the subject with your hands holding on to him.

“I get that this is important for you,” you continue and your knees nudge the muscles of his calves, “but you need sleep. Your greatest weapon is your brain, so, let it rest. I’m sure this will work out without a new dish.”

For a while, there is the boiling of water, the steam of carrots and celeriac drifting through the air. Thranduil’s hands continue to hold onto you, drawing figures onto your wrists to signal you that he did hear you and is thinking of an answer, not ignoring you. Then, he lets go with one hand. The stove clicks off, and the gas flame disappears, dipping the kitchen into more darkness now that the blue flickering light is gone. 

Other than that movement, Thranduil stands still. 

You opt for another lighthearted joke to break the tension that is obvious in his shoulders, the wings of them have the shirt stretched tighter at his hunch. You take the spoon out of his hands and fish in the soup, yes definitely soup, carefully balancing it around his stiff body and closing your lips around it.

“Mhmm, what excellent boiled potatoes,” you hum.

Thranduil's expression shifts ever so slightly, as if your words have finally pierced through the mental blockade, where he’s no doubt been sifting through countless possible events. An amused snort escapes him, his spine curving closer against you as he chuckles softly. “Did you have another Pride and Prejudice marathon this week?”

“What?” Your voice jumps an octave, betraying you instantly. “No! Of course not! Me? Nev–er. I don't even know that movie.” The words tumble out in a frantic cascade, and in the middle of your denial, Thranduil abruptly turns to face you, his sudden movement drawing a helpless grin from your lips.

One eyebrow arches in quiet amusement as he begins to crowd you against the kitchen island and leaves you to stare up at him. “If you didn’t watch it – and I certainly didn’t – how do you explain the ‘continue watching’ notification I saw at the restaurant?”

“Wow, uhm,” you fumble for an excuse, fingers toying with the strings of his silken pajama pants. “Maybe your brother decided to give my recommendations a shot?”

Thranduil lets out a scoff, his disbelief evident. “Las? When has he ever taken our advice on anything?”

True, his brother is going down the full teenager-who-listens-to-no-one-route like he’s doing a marathon but you are just as determined. Coyly you flutter your lashes up at Thranduil, pulling at the strings and twirling them around a finger. “Maybe that’s a sign of the universe, then. That you should stop banging pots and start bang– showing attention to your girlfriend.” 

Thranduil laughs so low in his throat, that you feel it swooshing straight into your stomach, the vibrato of his voice and the rasp of the few hours of sleep undoing every thought of getting him back to bed because this, Thranduil in just a loose shirt standing in the silver light of the moon in the middle of the kitchen and staring down at you might be the most attractive thing you have ever witnessed. 

His hands wander from your waist up to your shoulders, sliding up further to cup your neck in his large palms and gently tilt your chin up further. Your breath comes to a full stop, instead, your heart takes on the job of pulsing twice as fast at the gentle touch of his thumb moving over the underline of your jaw. The day you realized he cradles you just as gently as his favorite knives was surely one to process but now you lean into the lingering taps of his fingertips, the pad of his thumb pressing slightly into the plushness of your lower lip. 

Thranduil slots one leg between yours, casually and with an ease that you wouldn’t believed him to be able to when you first met him. “Have I recently told you how thankful I am that you’re you?” he asks and you shake your head slightly. His lips curve downward, as do his eyebrows. “I may have gotten lost in my work again, haven’t I?” 

You nod, never one to pour a lie into this intimacy. “But that’s fine. I know this is important to you. The restaurant opening and all can’t be easy.”

“That’s no reason to push away the one person that makes this journey bearable. You shouldn’t have to put up with my nightly disappearance out of bed simply because the restaurant is a large focus on my mind right now.” 

“It has become quite the habit of yours,” you agree quietly and slip one hand under his shirt again. 

There’s nothing sexual about the way you hold onto his waist, tracing the bones and muscles, all breathing softly and singing under your touch. Being this close to him grounds you the same way he needs physical touch as a reminder that he is still important in arguments and fights. That no matter how far apart your opinions are at that moment, your bond is still there. 

“I am truly sorry for this habit. I will work on it and I think once we have gotten through the worst of the press and critics I can rest easier but it’s nothing I can one hundred percent promise. The last time we closed for a month I slept barely after reopening.”

You tilt your head. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“No, everything you do makes me a better person already,” Thranduil says and leans down to finally catch your lips in a soft kiss into which you melt like butter on a hot pan. Every nerve ending is sizzling and burning, sighing as he holds your face close and kisses the breath out of you. “Or would you do me the favor and never watch your movie again?”

You laugh and bite down on his lip, “Never. Try something more realistic.”

He agrees with a huff of laughter, “Of course not,”  and pulls you back into another kiss. 

“Can we go back to bed?” you mumble against his lips. As much as you enjoy the loving kisses, the slow and languid draw of his tongue, the playful nip of his teeth in the lull of the night, his full body cornering you against the counter – oh, there’s this low sound of his throat again – but unlike Thranduil, you had a few hours of sleep already and you can feel the urge to hop back under the covers in the cold around your bare ankles.  

Thranduil’s head swirls around, seemingly taking in the state of the kitchen without the haze of a restless man dreaming of the perfect dish clouding his judgment and he raises a hand to tap against his lips, loudly exhaling. “Shit. I can’t leave this lying around and while it’s no good for the restaurant, I can’t just throw it out.”

You shrug your shoulders, sneaking past him to open the drawer meticulously sorted with plastic boxes. There are certainly enough of them to store the soups and their different varieties. Once Thranduil starts working on a new recipe, his tendency to fill the kitchen and run tests leaves its traces in the way you now look out for good lunchbox offers and Tupperware parties, always being mindful of having enough of them to stack up the freezer. Thranduil may be opposed to frozen food – and not only storebought, he would not eat something he didn’t cook fresh even if the whole idea of freezing food he cooked meant that it was still good and full of vitamins – but you don’t mind popping them into the microwave on a long day at work and relishing the soul food of your boyfriend weeks after he abandoned the thought of that particular version.

“We could pack them up and bring them around to the shelter tomorrow. Ah, wait, no. You have to be at the restaurant early for the deliveries. I can drop them off then, get home to change and still be there on time for the opening, oh! Thran–,” you are interrupted by the warm weight of Thranduil hugging you close from behind, surprising you the same way you had earlier, only that the height difference allows him to mouth a kiss into your neck. 

“I love you,” Thranduil says, digging his fingers into the wool of your cardigan. “All I’m doing is keeping you up at night and you’re still here, thinking about bringing the food to the shelter and my schedule. You’re brilliant, my love.”

The compliment goes through your heart like molten honey, sticking in all the slowly healing cracks that Thranduil mends each day he is there for you. The change from being roommates to best friends brings the risk of disrupting the carefully built balance yet Thranduil and you made it work and in times like this, standing in the darkness of your shared kitchen in the night before the re-opening of what Thranduil loves third-most in the world, every effort is worth the risk.

You smile, resting your head against his chest and looking up at him. His grey eyes are already on you, framed by long lashes and the strands of hair shining silver. “Love you too, most ardently,” you stand up on your tiptoes for a quick kiss upside down. “Soups can wait, let’s go to bed.”

[jules-writes-stories]

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 25 on AO3

What did Azriel whisper in Eris's ear at the High Lord's meeting?

"Who else knows what happened today?” He asked the heir. Azriel needed it to stay a secret. If his family found out—if Mor knew…

“No one.” Something like hurt flickered in the fireling’s eyes as he added, “Don’t worry. I am very good at remaining a secret.” And while the beautiful male’s face was all sharp angles and mischief, it did not match the depth of sadness that slipped along the golden thread they shared.

That wasn’t the Illyrian’s problem. He let out a breath. For now, he was grateful that his secret was safe. "And the alliance?" The spymaster asked.

Eris studied the male across from him with his keen, golden eyes. “I have no plan to revoke my alliance with your court, Shadowsinger. I still need your support, for when the time comes…” he trailed off. “I will do my best to convince Beron to join the cause against Hybern.”

The heir straightened, placing his half-full glass on the side table. He then asked a question of his own as if inquiring about the weather. “Do you intend to reject the bond?”

Azriel hadn’t even considered it. But before he could, his shadows hissed ours, ours, ours at him, and he blurted out, “No.”

Hazel eyes locked with amber. “Do you?” Eris bit his lower lip in thought, and the Illyrian watched.

“I have not given it much thought but don’t see the point. We don’t see each other enough that it would… interfere with our lives, right?” His auburn brow arched.

Azriel read between the lines. “Are you in love with someone?” he asked.

Eris laughed, a sharp, flinty sound, nothing like the musical warmth from earlier. “No, Shadowsinger. I enjoy a good fuck like any fae, but I am not in love.”

He knew it was completely unreasonable, but hearing Eris even mention fucking another fae had Azriel gritting his teeth.

Please let me know if you ever want on/off the tag | @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @c-starstuff-man0 @molcat07 @chunkypossum @going-through-shit @talibunny30 @yanny-77 @lilah-asteria @amalhe-kofee @theartofmischief @futurehunt @seihdacalling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @unanswered-stars

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Lessons on Intimidation

Author's note: More of Husbandry AU. Thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for letting me borrow Khopesh! Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Summary: Olly is going to tell Cedric about the bullies, and the rest of the squad to warn them about Algret and his brother. Just in case they try to push the other's around. He also asks Kerubiel for mean-ness lessons and 'how to intimidate' people lessons from Khopesh.

Warning: uh... Discussions of bullying. Let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Oleandros is going to tell the rest of the Primaris squad about the Apothecary Space wolf Algret and his friend and what they did. Also- he's going to be asking Kerubiel on how to seem mean. Keru's really good at spooking other people.

Oh! Khopesh is great at Intimidation as well. He's going to go ask Khopesh for lessons on intimidation. He sends Khopesh a message, who eagerly responds and they meet up near the Chaos base.

"Hey Khopesh. Uh. I was wondering if you'd teach me how to be Intimidating?"

"Sure!" Khopesh says, excited that one of the Primaris marines wants to be taught how to intimidate others. He's go so many different ideas, "Before that, I want to know the context."

"So ... there are a couple of Space Wolves," Olly explains what had happened, and how they had bullied him to send a message to Cedric.

"Tch, and they call Night Lords Cowards," Khopesh says shaking his head before grinning maniacally as he started talking about his favorite methods of intimidation and methods of torture.

Olly is grateful for his enthusiasm but says, "I ah...I don't want to Actually torture anyone...you Know that right? Its important to me that you know that."

'Ah sweet summer child still an Ultramarine at heart.' Khopesh thinks to himself fondly as he nods and replies, "Suit yourself, but I will Gladly teach you how to make people, think you're capable of such a thing."

"That after all, is the Root of fear. And that will be lesson one, what about you can you use to be Scary?" Khopesh trilled walking around the Primaris who followed with his gaze. "Intimidation is One thing, but to invoke true Fear comes from using what you Have to show you are Capable of inflicting what the fear predicts."

The Night Lord grinned showing off his maw of impressive sharp teeth.

Olly ran his tongue over his own blunt ones. "I don't think will work for me."

"Nonsense!" Khopesh chortled. "Think for a moment, what's something those nice chompers can do that mine can't?"

Olly seemed lost for a moment, before Khopesh sighed and pointed to the pouch he'd seen the Primaris store his rock snacks in. Olly grabs out one of his snacking rocks to show him, still a little confused.

"...I can...eat rocks??" Olly replied. "So can many others??"

"Yes! And do you know how Wild that is to witness??" Khopesh replied with a disbelieving laugh. "Just imagine it! Getting into your targets space, looking over them with your impressive height and Then!"

Oh right, one of the more minor differences between Primaris and First Borns, which while both of them can consume normally inedible to base line human items, Primaris marines have stronger bones, which include dental ones as well.

Khopesh prompted with a flourish. "You rip a chunk of rock from your environment, doesn't matter what or where just as long as you can chew it, and Bite it in Half right in Front of them!"

Olly listens and nods to what Khopesh is saying with a serious expression on his face. He looks around for a piece of rock that would look impressive enough.

"The first things their minds will go to is 'Gee what if that rock was my skull', better bother someone else." Khopesh elaborates, "and of course there are the more subtle ways to invoke fear but we'll get to those later."

"Oh," Olly says, "That's good to know. Thanks Khopesh!"

He looks around and then easily rips up a large chunk of rock, "Like this?"

And he turns to look over at Khopesh with the big chunk of rock and takes a few bite out of it. Making sure his expression was stern-neutral as he did so.

"Oh! This rock is rather- tasty," Olly says happily, breaking out of character, "And the texture is quite nice."

"… I shouldn't say that to the person I'm trying to intimidate, right?" Olly says a little sheepishly. He says after a moment or two of eating the moss covered rock.

"That will help with people thinking you are intimidating if you don't talk about the flavor and texture of the rock you are eating, yes." Khopesh says with a laugh.

Bullying is something that can happen between astartes some times, it happens and it sucks. But- Olly's doing what he can to fix it himself and warn other potential victims of bullying. If he wants more help, he hopes that Olly knows that he can come to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What did you want to talk about?" Kerubiel asks Olly as he looks at his fellow Primaris marine curiously.

"Oh- so A couple of Scout Space wolves bullied me earlier today." Olly says, "Because the Apothecary in training was upset that Cedric beat the shit out of him for being an asshole. But he didn't go after Ced because he knows Cedric will beat his ass again."

"And they went after you, despite how big you are because your softer," Kerubiel says, "... have you told Cedric yet?"

"Oh... yeah..." Olly says, "As soon as I find a way to phrase it so that Ced doesn't go all Wrath of Dorn on them."

Kerubiel snorts, "ha- oh, I want to be there to see his reaction."

"It's not funny!" Olly says frowning at the Dark Angel, who continues to laugh, "No- but those flea bitten dogs deserve the Karma they'll get for fucking with you."

"I'm hoping telling Ced that I'm taking mean-ness lesson from you, if that's okay, and you want to - you don't have to-" Olly rambles.

"Meanness lessons?" Kerubiel says with a chuckle, a fond smile pulling at his lips. Some might grow offended to what Olly was babbling, but he knew what Olly was really intending to say. "Sure- I can help with that Olly."

"Oh- thanks, Keru!" Olly says.

"Provided you give me the names and descriptions of those to shit heads." Kerubiel continues.

"... You're going to do something to them, aren't you?" Olly says with a frown, "I can fight my own battles."

"Yeah- and they involved an innocent third party," Kerubiel says with a scowl. "We both know what happens when shitty first borns go after Primaris. How Bad it can get, and how fucking little recourse we have."

"That... that was back in M42," Olly says, "The- the First borns- and Cedric and the other Primaris Marines say that... that things are different on Ancient Terra."

"Yeah sure," Kerubiel says rolling his eyes, "Just because their punishments are lighter, don't me that the protections that the First Borns and Terran born Space marines get doesn't mean it applies to us. It never did, not really in M42, why the hell would it be true here?"

Olly goes quiet and wilts a little at that. "... we could have Claude as Khopesh or Anrir about that."

"Eh, if that's necessary, maybe later," Kerubiel says with a shrug, "And Anrir only cares about Claude, not much about the rest of us. Which I get why. Claude can be adorable and he's adopted him. Good on Claude for getting such a fierce mentor."

"Albeit an unstable one," Olly mutters quiet, "... but then again. He's Terran born, and has survived from the Unification wars to After the Heresy. So."

"Holy Stars," Kerubiel swears, "He's old."

"So old." Olly replies.

Kerubiel and Olly are quiet for a moment, it shows just how dangerous he is. An old man surviving as long as he has in the type of career they have. It's rare and means that Anrir is exceptionally dangerous and good at what he does.

Kerubiel teaches him different ways to move and certain phrases to say, also reminds him of certain kinds of situations and the build up for them so he can realize what he's potentially getting set up for before it happens.

"Alright," Kerubiel says, "I think that's enough for now. Cedric and a couple of the others are going to be visiting Atlas and the other wounded Primaris. Good time to go let a whole bunch of the others know about those shit heads."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olly and Kerubiel are in the section of the med bay were Olivar, Pallius, Atlas, and Cedric are. The ones who are wounded Cedric is fussing over. Ramiel, taking a break from Chaplain training is quietly speaking with Olivar about something.

Jophiel is happily bouncing from person to person, while Catius is working on some paperwork- occasionally talking to the others about this and that.

Claude is helping Cedric- by carrying some medical supplies from the closet to where he needs them put down. Olly drifts over and watches the situation with a small smile on his face.

Atlas and Catius look over at him, "Something on your mind Olly?"

"Huh?" Olly murmurs, "Oh, just have a message to give to Cedric from an Apprentice Apothecary Algret of the space wolves."

Cedric's face shifts a little and he sets down whatever it was that he was holding and came over to Olly. "What did he do?"

"Uh, he says that 'we're even now.'" Olly says to Cedric.

Cedric's face darkens, "Olly. What. Did. He. Do?"

"Him and a friend pushed me into some mud." Olly says, "And dumped a bucket of disgusting smelling goo that hardened and stank. It took me hours to clean my armor of the stench and mud."

"That bastard." Cedric hisses upset.

"Ced," Olly says gently reaching out to try and calm his sometimes over protective brother cousin, "No really harm occurred. I just wanted to let you and everyone else know. Just in case he decides to escalate his behavior."

"What did the others say when you were covered in mud and stench?" Atlas asks.

"Oh well- the space wolves had planned a head and sent a message saying that I had tripped into something." Olly says. "The Sargent is apart of their Renegade war band. So... Even though I have video proof that it wasn't me being clumsy. You know how First Borns tend to react to their Scouts being 'harmless pranksters' to primaris."

"... Have you told anyone else besides us?" Catius asks.

"Just Khopesh, when he asked why I wanted lessons on intimidation." Olly says, "So- I'm working on not being such an... easy target. Sorry about that guys."

Olly knows he can cause his brothers a lot of stress, and he tries not to. He looks down and scuffs his foot on the ground a little self consciously. Not noticing the expressions on the others faces.

"They lied to a superior officer?" Claude asks, as a clarifying question, a frown on his face.

"Yeah," Olly says, "And they wouldn't let me up until I repeated their words back to them. The mud was... they had prepared that involuntary mud bath ahead of time for it to... be as effective as it was."

Cedric growls a little and his hands clench into fists. Olly gives Cedric a hug, that just so happens to also potential restrain his temperamental brother-cousin.

"No permanent damage happened." Olly informs him, informs all of them.

"Cowards," Jophiel says with an angry hiss, "They didn't go after the one that had smacked them around, I'm surprised they didn't go after me or one of the smaller of us."

"The rest of you are either too intimidating, have psyker powers. too wounded, or too loveable," Olly says in a no nonsense tone, he gestures to the ones with special powers, the ones who are more intimidating (and they know who they are), same with those who are still wounded, and the ones who are easily lovable.

He's not jealous, its fact, some brothers and cousins are far more palatable, far more lovable, and easy to love. While others are less lovable, less palatable.

Part of him wondered if he was a Pariah, or hand the genes, even if just a little bit. But- if he did then he'd have had the training for it, or would have been culled. At least he thinks that is what the Magos on Trainers would do.

But no, he's not special, not like how his brothers and cousins are special. The psyker and non psyker ones. They are so clever, so witty, so strong, and only will grow more so as they get older.

He'll just continue to fall behind and stagger like a clumsy ox after them and try not to drag them down. Try not to be too much of a burden.

"Oh- yeah they are Space wolves, didn't want to go after the 'witches' in case you gave them 'witch cooties' or curse them or other such nonsense, I think." Olly says rolling his eyes, "And they... likely thought it dishonorable to go after the wounded. And I was ... in a place for them to grab. So."

Olly shrugs, he's unfortunately used to be used as a 'messenger' of that kind of nature for his brothers and cousins. And as much as it sucks, at least it's him and not one of the others.

It's something he can do as a way to shield the others from... stuff and things. Especially since all of them do so much to help him. Why not return the favor? Besides, even if those First Borns had hurt him, Pain is temporary and it would heal up quickly.

"I've had bullies use me to send messages to others that had a lot worse than being stuck in mud for a bit." Olly says as a reminder, "So really. I'm fine. Cedric. Everyone. And since Algret and his buddy say that 'we're even now' going after him would only... escalate the situation."

"Have you told Captain Ash'val or one of the others?" Claude asks.

"No, why?" Olly asks, "such squabbles between Scouts are to be kept between Scouts. Besides, the First Borns will most likely side with the First Born Scouts, and then I would have to do punishment for being a 'whiny little bitch' who doesn't know his place."

"Who told you that?" Cedric growls.

"Who told me what?" Olly asks.

"Don't play dumb, what you just said," Cedric grounds out.

"Oh, some asshole back in M42," Olly says, "He's not here, so it doesn't matter."

"Olly..." Catius says coming over and giving his brother a hug.

"It's in the past," Olly says simply with a shrug, happily leaning into Catius's hug while he still has his arms around Cedric as he gives big ol' 'please calm down' puppy eyes to Cedric.

It's sometimes really effective. Sometimes it just makes Cedric huff, puff, and even more protectively growly. "Perhaps talking to Captain Ash'val or one of the others might be a good idea. Or big Burders Arnault and Roland."

"Why?" Says Olly tilting his head a little, "the one that got bullied was me. Not you or one of the others they care about. So they won't give a shit."

"Olly!" Jophiel says with gasp.

"What?" Olly says with a confused blink and a head tilt. "The first borns care about you- and the others. Therefor it would upset them if you or the others were the ones that were bullied. But it's me. They don't know me. Not really. so they won't care. It's fine. It make sense."

Olly says with a shrug, "I'm an acquired taste, and most tend to not like me for being, well me. It's fine."

"... Olly." Ramiel says his voice wobbling a little.

"Oh fuck," Olly says, "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"... Yes you did." Catius and Atlas say at the same time.

"Why do you think they wouldn't care?" Cedric asks, a complicated expression on his face.

"Because Roland and Arnault are Black Templars- of course they, understandably, prioritize you- and the other Black Templars over the rest of us." Olly starts, "of course the first born brothers and cousins that have bonded to the other primaris marines more care about them. But I'm just... in the back ground. Tied to you lot tangentially. They don't care about me personally, and that's fine."

"There is no way that they care about me, in any capacity, I haven't got the endearing kind of personality type," He shifts a little, stating all of this very matter of factly, he believes every word he's saying, "Besides- it's great that you all have found such people to help and protect you. I can manage. I have before, I will now. It's easier on Ancient Terra, not as many bastards to have to deal with. I know how annoying and difficult to deal with. I just have one of those easy to bully faces and personalities. Haha."

He's always been rather good at that- getting the ire of others directed onto him and off of the others. It's so hard trying to be good, to not be frustrating or hard to work with.

It's like everyone was given certain socialization lessons and he'd missed those classes somehow. And like everyone else was using a secret set of social rules that they all knew about, but no one would really explain them to him.

All that would happen is he'd get punished for unknowingly breaking those rules and punished for doing something when he had thought it seemed like a reasonable action. When he said or did something that someone else had done, but while they were able to do it, he was scolded for it.

That reminds him of one time, when he'd been a lot younger, back on Mars. When they were doing 'free play' sessions and Olly had asked one of their brother cousins if they wanted to play. The cousin had said that he wanted to play with him later. So he'd went away and had come back to ask that brother cousin a couple of hours later if they wanted to play.

Then that brother cousin had yelled at him, saying that Olly was being rude and that he'd already said that he hadn't wanted to play with Olly and that Olly was being rude.

Much to Olly's horror he'd started to cry a little and had tearfully explained that this was later, that he'd agreed to play with him later and later was now.

That same cousin continued to yell and scold that he didn't actually want to play with Olly at all, But he was merely being polite. That he should just go away. That Olly was far to annoying and intense. To just shut up and go away.

Superior officers didn't like questions, even when Olly wasn't trying to be rude. He just ... didn't understand the assignment he'd been given. That the training he had been given wasn't enough.

He wasn't trying to be rude or question there authority. He just ... wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. So no, he wasn't going to pester the older brothers here.

He was far too annoying. Far to difficult to handle for most. To be honest, he doesn't know why Cedric and the others put up with him when he can be way too much.

At least they are nicer about it and say "Olly shush!" at times. Which is helpful, and lets him know when he's being too talkative or is saying something that could potentially offend someone else or something.

[spookyquill]

Hi! Saw you're taking JJK requests and here I am. I'm sick and just not getting out of bed so kind of wanted a fic with Satoru where hebwas away for a mission and got back only to find his wife sick (like, nothing life threatening. Just a cold or fever or something) so he decides to take care of her but she feels bad because he's so busy and has to 'deal with her being sick', especially after he just got back from a mission. Thank you so much if you decide to do it! I'm on a different account right now but please tag @ladyodpandemonium if you write the fic so I can catch it. Big thanks!!!

Apologies for the delay, trying to focus on myself and that includes letting some requests go. But I have some drafts ready to post so look out for them.

@ladyodpandemonium

~•~

Bleary eyes open, your head pounding despite the long rest you just took. Snot drips down from your nose and onto the pillow you rest on. With a disgusted groan, you reach over to your bed side table and pull out a couple tissues from the box. As you hold the tissues to your nose, you take notice of the other things occupying your table.

A couple boxes of pills and a glass of water sit there idly next to the box of tissues. They had not been there when you collapsed on your bed. You didn’t even think of those things. Which really meant only one thing.

Gojo kneeled in front of you, his concern etched on his face as he gently tucked your hair behind your ear.

You groan in contentment. “You’re supposed to be on a mission.”

“I’ve completed that. I came home expecting you to be doing pointless chores or something, but instead I’ve found you cuddled up sick in bed.” Gojo sighs, moving his hand to cup your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve left the mission early to come take care of you.”

You lean into his touch, his palm cool against your flush skin. “I didn’t want to disturb you- wait.” You lift your head up, looking for your phone. “What day is it?”

Gojo gently guided your head back to your pillow, silencing your search. “It’s Thursday. How long have you been sick for?”

Panic washes over you. “Shit. I came to bed on Tuesday. Shit I overslept!” You sit up, ignoring the pulsing headache beginning to take shape. “Why didn’t my alarm go off?!”

Gojo is quick to stop your attempts to get up, standing and keeping your ass on the mattress with his hand on your shoulders. “You obviously needed the sleep. Stay in bed, you need to rest.” When you stop fighting against him, mainly because of the overbearing headache, he moves to sit on the side of your bed, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead and grimacing. “Have you eaten anything?”

You tried to eat something before you went to your bedroom, but everything in the fridge made you nauseous and you couldn’t think enough to cook or heat up some food. Your growling stomach answers gojos questions before you can verbalise any response.

Gojo nods. “Stay here. I’ll heat up some soup for you.”

You shake your head, which protests angrily at the movement. “No, I don’t want to get you sick. I’ve already bothered you enough. You shouldn’t have to deal with me being sick. You’ve been so busy and I don’t want to get you sick because of me.”

Gojo lifts a finger to your chin, tilting it up to look at his sparkling blue eyes. “Nothing matters but you at the moment. I’ll never be too busy for you and I don’t want you to think that you’re a bother to me at all. You take priority over everything else in this world.” He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Now stay right here, lean against the head rest while I go prep some soup for you. I want you to have something to eat. Keep your energy up.”

You sigh in defeat, mumbling an agreement as he walks out the room. It doesn’t take long for him to come back, but he walks back in to find you almost falling asleep again.

“Baby, I know you’re tired still but I would really appreciate you having something to eat.”

You grumble, eyes lifting lazily to stare at the soup in his hands. Even the thought of lifting your hands exhausts you. And Gojo sees this.

He walks around to the other side of the bed, soup still in hand, and carefully climbs on top of it, nestling himself beside you. He nudges your body to lean upright against him, your cheek pressed to his chest and one arm falling into his lap. He hears your sigh of relief and can feel your muscles relaxing into him. He brings the soup over to you, spoon sitting in it. He holds the bowl with one hand and grabs the spoon with the other, encasing you with his embrace as he does so.

You watch as he scoops up some soup into the spoon and carefully brings the spoon to your lips. As soon as the soup trickles down your throat, you let out a soft hum.

Gojo continues to spoon feed you the whole soup, thankful that your eating something at least. Once the bowl is empty, he places the spoon down in it and puts the bowl on his bedside table. When he looks back to you, he finds you already snoring softly against him.

He lets out a light chuckle. “Get some sleep babe, I’ll be right here when you wake up, ready to take care of you.”

[jhutchh19992]

Comfort in the Chaos

Plot: you are claptons best friend since… well forever. you also had feelings for him since forever. but he had a girlfriend. now hes broken up with her and you comfort him, leading to an unexpected turn.

tags: no smut, fluff, comfort, slight angst, highschool, best friends to lovers

Clapton Davis. The king of not giving a damn. The guy who made skipping homework and blowing off tests look effortless. But despite all that, he was my best friend. The truth, though? I’d been in love with him for a while, and I always had this feeling he felt the same. Neither of us had ever said anything. Maybe we were afraid of ruining what we had, or maybe we were waiting for the right moment.

Today, though, something felt different.

I was sitting on my bed, scrolling through my phone, when I got a text from Clapton. It was one of those messages that sent my heart racing.

Clapton: "She broke up with me."

I stared at the screen, my heart both sinking and soaring. Fiona—his girlfriend—was out of the picture. For months, I had been trying to hide my jealousy whenever he talked about her, pretending I was happy for them. Now, I wasn’t sure how to feel.

Me: "I’m sorry. Do you want to come over?"

A few minutes later, him and his skateboard pulled up outside my house. I opened the door before he even knocked, and there he was, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his face clouded with a mixture of frustration and sadness.

“Hey,” he mumbled, stepping inside.

“Hey,” I replied, offering him a weak smile. “Come on, let’s sit outside.”

We headed to the backyard, the sun setting in soft orange hues. I grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge and passed one to him as we settled onto the porch steps. For a few moments, we just sat in silence, letting the cool breeze wash over us.

“She said I was holding her back,” Clapton said after a while, his voice low. He stared ahead, not meeting my eyes. “Like I wasn’t enough.”

I frowned, anger bubbling up inside me. “That’s not true. She didn’t get you. She never did.”

He glanced over at me, his brow furrowed. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” I said softly. “You’re not someone who needs to fit into anyone’s mold. You’re Clapton. And that’s more than enough.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but I could see the way his jaw tightened, like he was trying to hold back something. “It’s just—” he started, then stopped, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t get why I even cared so much. Fiona…she wasn’t it.”

My heart skipped a beat. This was the first time he had ever hinted that maybe he hadn’t been as into her as I’d thought. I wanted to ask him what he meant, but I was afraid to push too hard.

Instead, I just said, “Maybe you were looking for something else.”

His eyes met mine, and for a second, something passed between us. Something that had always been there, just under the surface, waiting for one of us to acknowledge it.

“I think you’re right,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

We sat in silence again, but this time it wasn’t the comfortable quiet we usually shared. There was a tension in the air, a kind of electricity that made my skin tingle. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I wondered if he could hear it too.

“I don’t get why she didn’t see it,” I finally said, my voice low. “You’re more than just what people see at school, you know? You’re…you’re one of the best people I know.”

Clapton turned to me, his expression softening. “You really think that?”

I swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Yeah. I’ve always thought that.”

He was looking at me now, really looking at me, like he was seeing me for the first time. His eyes flickered to my lips for a brief second, and my breath caught in my throat. Was this finally happening?

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “About us.”

My heart skipped a beat. “About us?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah. I know I haven’t always been the best at showing it, but…there’s something here. Right?”

There it was. The thing we’d been dancing around for so long, finally out in the open. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump but terrified at the same time.

“I think so too,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “I’ve felt it for a while.”

Clapton’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I thought it was just me,” he said, letting out a quiet laugh. “I guess I was wrong.”

He shifted closer, his knee brushing against mine, and suddenly the space between us felt too small. My heart was racing, my hands trembling, and all I could think about was how much I wanted him to kiss me.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice barely audible, his eyes searching mine for permission.

I nodded, unable to find the words. My breath hitched as he leaned in slowly, closing the distance between us. His lips were soft and warm against mine, the kiss gentle but full of the things we had left unsaid for so long.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. It was just me and Clapton, sitting on my porch under the fading sunlight, finally crossing that invisible line we’d been toeing for years. And it felt right. More than right—it felt like this was exactly where we were supposed to be.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against mine, and we stayed like that for a few seconds, both of us catching our breath.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice soft.

“Me too,” I whispered back.

We didn’t need to say anything else. There were no more questions, no more doubts. We had crossed the line, and there was no going back—but that was okay. Because whatever was ahead of us, we’d face it together.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in soft twilight as we sat there, fingers intertwined, quietly laughing at how long it had taken us to figure it out. And for the first time, everything felt perfectly, undeniably right.

[nondelphic]

thank you so much for 700 followers!! this is so insane to me and i'm so happy people are enjoying my posts.

i know most of you are here for my ""relatable writing posts"" but i also know some of you are interested in who i am, and specifically my writing, so to celebrate hitting 700 followers i thought i'd give you a taste of my writing !! i know i was supposed to tag some ppl but i forgot to write your names down and i can't remember who wanted to be tagged and who didn't 😭😭😭

these are all drafts and i def don't consider myself a great writer, but i think i'm okay at storytelling. regardless, enjoy it for what it is!

this excerpt is from my first completed draft of "the midnight chase." for context, marley is aroace.

-

They sat in silence for a while before Marley shifted towards Lucas. She bit her lip, uncertain of how honest to be. “Lucas?”

He looked at her. “Yeah?”

“You know the party last month? Remember how Elvis kissed me?”

Lucas nodded. Marley averted her gaze, focusing on a path beyond the pond that led to a cliff overlooking the ocean.

“Do you think it’s possible to want that sort of closeness, without wanting it all?” Marley could feel Lucas gaze on her.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Marley sighed and let her gaze drop to her feet. Her shoelaces had come undone.

“I mean, I don’t like Elvis like that, but when he kissed me, I felt… warm inside. Like, it’s not something I crave, but it felt nice regardless.”

Lucas remained silent for a moment. Marley looked up to see his gaze thoughtful as he processed her words. The gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird were the only sounds filling the silence between them. Marley could feel her heartbeat quicken, wondering if she had said too much, or if Lucas might misunderstand her.

Finally, Lucas sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I get what you’re saying, Marley. I think… it’s natural to want closeness, to feel connected to someone, even if it’s not necessarily about romance. It’s human, you know? We all crave that warmth, that feeling of being wanted or cared for, even if it’s just for a moment.”

Marley nodded, relieved that he understood, but still, there was something else she needed to express. She glanced between Lucas and her shoelaces, her senses searching for any sign of judgement or discomfort, but all she saw was patience and a gentle curiosity.

“I guess it just made me question something that’s been nagging me for a long time,” Marley continued, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Like, what if I don’t ever want that kind of connection with someone, but I still want to feel close to people? Is that okay?”

Lucas’s expression softened even more, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on Marley’s shoulder. “Marley, there’s no right or wrong way to feel about these things. You’re allowed to want whatever it is you want—or don’t want. It doesn’t make you any less valid or any less… you.”

Marley let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Thanks, Lucas. I guess I just needed to hear that.”

and here's another excerpt that shows a bit more of the story...... kinda.

-

As Lucas excused himself to go to the bathroom, Marley looked for Chio. Instead, she ran into Silas.

“Hey,” he said, holding his arm out. “Let’s dance.”

Initially, Marley wanted to say no, but something in Silas’ expression made her do the opposite. She took his arm and he led her to a more secluded part of the dance floor. Marley noticed people staring at them as they walked, not unsurprisingly, considering her and Silas' history.

Silas put a cautious hand on Marley’s back as the song transitioned to a sentimental and slow piano arrangement. 

“You know the map I gave you?” Silas asked. Marley smiled. Yes, the one she and her friends had managed to figure out completely. “Did you solve it?” 

Something in Silas’ expression told Marley he already knew the answer. Did he want help? Had he solved it?

“Yes,” Marley said. Silas nodded, and a smile crept up on his face.

“Me too. Which means… the winner will be determined by who gets to the middle first.”

Marley nodded. “You’re doing it alone?” 

“Yes. I work best alone. I know you’re doing it with your friends.” Something in Marley churned at his answer. It was a typical Silas answer, a simple phrase etched with an edge of passive aggressiveness. Marley had solved it with the help of her friends. He had solved it alone, using only his brains.

“Teamwork is an underappreciated tool,” Marley said, finding herself distancing herself slightly from Silas’ hold on her as they danced.

“Of course. It’s important to be able to work with others. At the end of the day, though, you'll be alone.”

Marley looked into Silas’s eyes, trying to decipher his expression. There was something behind his words, a hint of loneliness perhaps, or maybe a sense of inevitability. She decided to keep the conversation light, not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening.

“Maybe so, but having friends by your side can make a huge difference,” Marley replied, her tone gentle but firm.

Silas nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just... sometimes it feels like relying on others is a weakness.”

Marley shook her head. “It’s not a weakness, Silas. It’s a strength. Knowing when to ask for help, and knowing you can trust those around you, that’s powerful.”

They continued to dance in silence for a few moments, the slow melody wrapping around them. Marley felt a strange mix of empathy and rivalry towards Silas. She understood his drive and his determination, but she also saw the value in the support system she had with her friends.

As the song came to an end, Silas offered her a small smile. “Thank you for the dance, Marley. And for the perspective.”

Marley returned the smile. “Anytime, Silas. Good luck with the challenge.”

“Good luck to you too,” Silas replied, giving her a polite nod before walking away.

Marley watched him go, feeling a mixture of emotions. She was grateful for her friends and the support they provided, but she also understood the weight Silas carried. She hoped that one day he would realize the value of camaraderie.

Lucas returned from the bathroom, a curious look on his face. “Did I miss something?”

Marley laughed, shaking off the remnants of her conversation with Silas. “Just a dance with Silas. Nothing major.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Shall we continue dancing?”

“Absolutely,” Marley said, feeling lighter and more determined than ever.

They returned to the dance floor, joining their friends in the celebration. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and shared moments that Marley knew she would treasure for a long time.

As the night wound down, Marley found herself sitting with Chio and Maya on a bench outside the hall, the cool air in the stone-cladden corridor a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the dance floor.

Maya pulled out her phone from under her dress. Marley watched her. “Where did you keep that?”

“Oh, I have all my dressed sewn to include hidden pockets. I hate not being able to carry stuff.”

Chio rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ah, yes, custom sewn gowns with pockets, what a normal and humble thing!”

“It’s not my fault that default dresses don’t come with pockets already,” Maya countered.

“Calling normal dresses ‘default dresses’ is crazy,” Marley snorted. She looked at Chio’s dress. It was a beautifully simple dress with long, wide arms and a simple fabric belt around the waist, in a bright orange colour, contrasting Chio’s blue hair in a seamlessly effortless way.

“To be fair, my dress is also customised,” Chio sighed, smoothing out her skirt, before smirking. “I took it in two centimetres at the waist.”

The three girls burst out into laughter. Maya looked at her phone.

“What time is it?” Chio asked.

“10:45.”

“We should get ready.” Marley said. The Midnight Chase started at midnight, just as the name suggested. And she was not running down the maze in a long dress. Well, she could, she knew multiple people participating who were going directly from the dance to the maze. But they weren’t in it to win it. Marley and her friends were.

Hopefully, Silas would find that working alone is actually the greatest weakness.

Marley had a gnawing feeling that her stance would be proven right.

HELP i'm so scared y'all are gonna think my writing is trash because LET'S BE FR THIS IS JUST FROM MY FIRST DRAFT!!!! i haven't yet edited these scenes so they're kinda cringe but i wanted to show my main project. i do have different writing styles depending on genre though, and i'm tempted to show some of my comedy writing. it's pretty hilarious, if i may say so myself.

anyway, thank you again for 700 followers. thank you so much. each like, reblog, reply, message, or ask brings me so much happiness. you have no clue how much your interest warms my heart (or maybe you do because you know how social media manipulates our brains and their reward system)

[densewentz]

My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing You cut me open and I Keep bleeding love

Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis is a Dreamling song fight me about it. Day 14 (candygore, kinda) and Day 15 (Song Lyrics)

HQ Jpeg under cut bc no matter what I did this gif came out crunchy