#it's definitely gotten worse with the cold

[reallyhardy]

where my fellow eczema sufferers flaring up over winter at... 😔 i'm going thru it rn

[feralnumberfive]

Friday it was 53°F and now it's -25°F. This shit is bananas

[biohazrd]

cannot possibly explain how heart wrenching and isolating it is to be one of the tiny handful of people still keeping up w c0vid and taking precautions in this country i am so tired but since everybody else decided that they're totally fine letting a virus that destroys your immune system and heart run rampant and disable and kill millions bc they got tired of the mild inconvenience of wearing a piece of cloth on their face i guess i gotta keep chug-a-lugging

[chanelrolls]

blizzard? i hardly know her

pairing. afab!fem reader x CALEB (modern college au)

tags. fluff, nsfw, smut, mature content, cheesy romance, forced proximity, slowburn, unestablished relationship, plot-based, tension, so much tension, accidental sleepover, zayne & caleb are sibs with a mum, eventual smut, oral, t!tplay, f!ngering, penetration, missionary, slight manhandling, 18+

synopsis. what happens when you get stuck inside your crush's house?

wc. 6.9k (lmao)

crunch. crunch. crunch.

the frosty snow lies thick beneath your boots, making a satisfying crunch with every heavy step you take. your thick fur boots keep you warm as you wander up the quiet street, heading toward the center of town. each house you pass is decked out in bright, cheerful christmas lights, shimmering merrily. it’s still early, just 2 o’clock, but it feels like the entire town is already wrapped in the christmas spirit.

well, it is the 22nd of december. with only three days left until the long-awaited 25th, it’s no surprise that festive excitement lingers in the air.

ah, winter. the season that always felt like magic. your favorite time of the year. but this time, something was different. this time, you were actually doing something bold.

you held the small, carefully wrapped package tighter between your gloves, heart pounding as you took in the cold air. you knew exactly where you were headed and who it was for.

caleb.

he was the kind of guy every girl dreamed about; smart, charismatic, manly, athletic, and ridiculously good-looking. a bit older than you. you'd been lowkey obsessed with him for half a year. yes, you kept track.

you wanted to talk to him so many times, but every chance slipped past. you didn’t have the guts. you had no idea how to even start a convo with a guy you liked. were you supposed to act casual? or make it obvious? how do people even do this?

the funny part? caleb and you had never even spoken. not once. you were practically strangers. but he was popular, the kind of guy people naturally gravitated toward. everyone liked him. which meant if you didn’t make a move soon, someone else definitely would.

so yeah, you needed to act. fast.

and somehow, through sheer force of will and probably a touch of delusion, you came up with a plan: give him a christmas gift. nothing huge. just something small... and anonymous. no pressure, just a gesture.

luckily, you knew something most people didn’t. caleb’s family owned that cozy little bakery down the street. they lived right above it, in the apartment on the second floor. which made things easy since there was a letterbox right next to the bakery door. accessible and just perfect. the plan was really simple: drop off the gift, then vanish. just you, taking a tiny step closer to the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

your stomach started doing that weird twisty thing again the closer you got to caleb’s bakery. the street was quiet, but the snow was beginning to fall faster now, tiny flurries brushing your cheeks, clinging to your coat. you picked up the pace. if you dropped the gift off fast enough, you could make it home before the snow really picked up.

except... you didn’t. because just as you stopped in front of the bakery, frozen and staring at the familiar brick facade, you heard a faint voice that sounded like it was calling for somebody.

your heart practically jumped out of your chest. you spun around, eyes wide. there was no one around. but the snow had gotten worse. way worse. you could barely see down the road now. great. just great.

you were such an idiot. there had been blizzard warnings all week. and you, genius that you were, had thought today of all days was the perfect time to sneak out and play santa.

this was bad. really bad.

you whimpered when something sharp, maybe a twig or a chunk of ice, scratched across your cheek. the cold bit harder now, winds screaming past your ears. panic rose like a wave. you spun around, searching, desperate, but there was nothing. just white. endless, suffocating white.

and then, arms. strong ones, wrapping around you before you could even scream. you kicked once, tried to twist away, heart hammering like a drum, but your body was too numb to fight back.

you were being dragged, somewhere. and then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

a bell chimed overhead. warmth hit your face. your nose filled with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, and something buttery. the sound of the wind dulled behind you.

a bakery...

you blinked the snow out of your eyes, breath uneven, still bracing to fight whoever had grabbed you. and then, "are you alright?" you instantly looked up at the familiar voice. standing there, a towel in hand, snow in his dark hair and a concerned frown on his face—was zayne. caleb’s older brother.

so there you were.

the older brother of your crush was standing right in front of you, waiting for an answer. and oh, you were inside his family’s bakery. and above this very shop? their house. which meant... caleb was probably somewhere upstairs right now. maybe even within earshot. oh, and let’s not forget the tiny detail that a literal snow blizzard was raging outside. no one in their right mind would be out in that. except you, naturally.

and in your hand? a poorly hidden, slightly crumpled gift you were now awkwardly trying to shield behind your back like some suspicious cartoon character. how dandy could things possibly get?

you nodded at zayne, way too eagerly. like, suspiciously eagerly. like those nodding dogs that people placed in the dashboards of their car.

zayne narrowed his eyes at you doubtfully,

“[name], right?” he asked, arms placed at his sides loosely. you nodded again. silent. awkward. praying the gift behind your back would suddenly vanish into thin air.

it wasn’t surprising that he knew your name. in a town like this, everyone knew everyone. gossip traveled faster than snowstorms.

“take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a chair near the counter. “i’ll go get my mum. she’ll know what to do.” you hesitated, but your legs were too cold and tired to argue. the gift stayed clenched in your hands behind your coat as you shuffled toward the seat, cheeks burning. zayne turned and walked off, calling out, “mum!” as he disappeared into the back.

you were alone now. in his bakery. with his gift. and his family upstairs. great. just great.

moments later, footsteps echoed from the stairs behind the counter. then came a voice, warm, lively, and full of disbelief. “zayne, who in their right mind would even be outside right now? the news said—” she stopped mid-rant when your eyes met hers.

“oh, my stars!” mrs. xia gasped, practically flying toward you with a flurry of movement and a hand pressed to her chest. “darling, what happened? are you hurt? are you frozen? do you even have gloves? look at your face, it’s all red—”

“mum,” zayne cut in, clearly used to the routine as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “you’re overwhelming her.”

“nonsense,” she said, swatting a hand at him, still hovering over you, staring at you with the eyes caleb had inherited from, while zayne probably got his from their father. “go make her some hot chocolate. extra marshmallows.” zayne sighed at the sudden obligation, but nonetheless vanished back into the kitchen with reluctant acceptance.

you were officially alone, with the mother of your crush. and she was observing you like you were a lost duckling. “well then,” she began, folding her arms and leaning just a little too close. “how are you feeling?”

"i... i'm okay. just a little cold..."

"well, i'll bet you are! whatever were you doing wandering outside?"

your grip tightened around the gift behind you. you smiled, then lied. “i… i just wanted some air.”

her eyes narrowed, suspicious but amused. “in the middle of a snowstorm?”

you forced a chuckle, trying to look casual. “y-yes. it was… a really strong urge.”

"ah, now look at you," she laughed, before noticing your uncomfortable expression. "oh my dear, i'm so sorry, i'm such a scatterbrain! here, give me your coat," mrs. xia's outstretched hand made you suddenly aware of your shivering frame. with trembling hands, you undid the buttons of your coat, shrugging out of the soppy mess. instantly, you felt the warmth of the bakery's cozy atmosphere seeping through the fabric of your long-sleeved top. you're still holding caleb's gift protectively.

mrs. xia took your coat, draping it over a radiator. "there, there, now once you've got some hot chocolate in you, you'll be warm and better in no time!" she beams at you, clasping her hands together. "that's if my incompetent son manages to make it for you."

the thudding footsteps coming down the stairs rang out, and then revealed a frowning zayne with a cup of steaming hot chocolate between his fingers. his obvious scoffing received a light chortle from mrs. xia, watching as zayne turn towards you. you gently take the beverage from him, pinkies faintly brushing against one another. you try to hold yourself back from taking a long sniff of the mouthwateringly sweet aroma across your watchful saviours, so you slowly take a sip. "it's lovely," you look up at them. "thank you..."

zayne crosses his arms while sneaking a glance at his mother in response, the corner of his lips subtly lifted. all mrs. xia could do was to raise her hands up in defeat.

after getting scolded by your mother on the phone call, you passed the phone to mrs. xia when she gestured for it, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. the motherly concern turned into light banter, like two women slipping into a shared rhythm. the volume of their voices carried, but the meaning was distant now. their laughter settled into the corners of the room.

you sat curled on the edge of the chair, a blanket draped over your shoulders like a lifeline. the mug of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of you, its surface now still, save for a lone marshmallow melting into the brown. your hands were no longer trembling, but your mind hadn’t caught up.

the gift was tucked underneath the blanket now, safe but painfully present. its shape still pressed against your side. you hadn’t decided what you were going to do with it yet. the original plan had evaporated with the first gust of wind that knocked you off your—

footsteps.

zayne approached you quietly, though there was a kind of presence to him that made silence feel heavier. you looked up just as he stopped beside your chair. his hands were shoved into the pockets of his dark sweater, and the light caught in the glint of his cuff. his eyes flicked down to the mug, then returned to you. no smile. just that same unreadable calm.

but then he said, with a voice that was quieter than the rest of him. “be honest. did it taste good?”

you blinked, taken off guard. his tone wasn’t sarcastic. it wasn’t cold, either. it was... curious. like your opinion actually mattered. you nodded after a moment, the corners of your mouth lifting, unsure. “yeah. it did. just sweet enough.”

there was the smallest shift in his posture.

“good,” he looked away, “mum always makes it too sugary. i adjusted the recipe a bit.”

"don't you mean caleb adjusted it?" a voice sounded from the entrance of the backroom, and your head snapped to the source abruptly, zayne mirroring your actions, although less frantic.

don't blush. act cool. nonchalant. not a big deal.

oh, who are you kidding? of course, this is a big deal!

because standing right there, leaning against the doorframe so effortlessly, and looking so extremely attractive, was caleb. caleb xia. the whole reason why you were in this mess in the first place.

tall and loose-limbed, with the kind of posture that made everything about him look unbothered. his brown hair was tousled in that way that looked intentional but probably wasn’t. soft strands fell across his forehead, catching the light like autumn leaves. but it was his eyes that held you the longest. a pale lilac that didn’t quite belong to this world. they were beautiful.

his gaze swept over the room slowly before settling on you, and though he wasn’t smiling, there was something playful in the tilt of his mouth, the subtle raise of one brow.

it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

hang on a minute...

"i... thought zayne made it for me?" you dragged your words, your voice coming out louder than you intended, more so to yourself than to anyone in particular. now all of your nerves that were previously panicking was replaced by confusion.

caleb gives zayne a dry look, before turning to face you fully.

oh, that gorgeous, sexy, amazing, and handsome face!

"there are two things you should know about my brother," caleb told you, the sound of your name in his slow, steady voice completely warming your insides.

oh my GOD. he's talking to me. he's talking to ME and looking at ME.

his footsteps dragged on across the floorboards while he stepped closer. "one: zayne plus the kitchen equals a disaster, and two: he may appear like a knight in shining silk but he's a total liar."

zayne only stared at him with a cold glare, and caleb smiled back cheekily at him. his gorgeous amethyst eyes holding a spark of mischief, "so who's mum on the phone to?"

"my mum," you replied, (even though it looked like it was zayne he was asking) to which caleb nodded in quiet understanding. a brief silence fell upon you, so you took another sip from the hot chocolate, the knowledge that your crush being the one who actually made it, now heartwarmingly sitting in your head.

caleb noticed.

"i make a pretty good hot chocolate, huh?" caleb chuckled handsomely, striding through the room and hopping on one of the chairs across the shop counter.

"better than pretty good, actually..."

"better than pretty good actually." you hear zayne mutter beneath his breath as he walked past you, now making a beeline for the stairs at the back. whether he was mocking or teasing you, you didn't know. you couldn't make a judgement for now with insufficient knowledge of how zayne is. but his eyes earlier held a teasing spark, you try to convince yourself.

you steal a glance from caleb, who was currently texting in his phone.

"honey, are you alright?" the concerned voice of mrs. xia broke through your thoughts, and you look up at her worried eyes.

"i, uh, am okay. sorry for spacing out..."

she gives you a warm, motherly smile. "oh, don't worry bub, you must still be in a little shock. how about we all go upstairs, where it's more warmer, hm?"

you nodded in reply, returning her smile.

when you reached upstairs, you watched how caleb flopped himself down the recliner to prop the seat up, before reaching into the pocket of his bottoms and proceeding to text again, seemingly at lightning speed. mrs. xia made her way over to the sofa, and so you decided to settle yourself down across from her.

"well then," the mother spoke up, her eyes holding yours. "i spoke to your mum, and... we've agreed that you should stay here until the blizzard passes." you visibly stiffened, eyes automatically glued on the floor as a sudden rush of heat coursed through you despite the weather. "the roads are in no state to be driven on, and the way how things are looking, you'll probably be safe and sound in your bed by tomorrow night."

what a relief. you released the breath you didn't realize you've been holding in. if you could just keep your way out of zayne and caleb, then everything should work out just fine. no awkward conversations, nothing alike, and no one will find out about the wrapped gift you're sitting on right now.

"thank you, mrs. xia. you're very kind, i really appreciate it,"

"oh please, it's absolutely no trouble at all!" mrs. xia waved it off nonchalantly, "your parents are an old colleague of mine, and you're an absolute angel yourself, my dear. and ever so pretty, might i say."

you blushed, cheeks going warm, "thank you, mrs. xia, you really are too kind."

"now what's the time, i wonder?" she mused brightly, sauntering towards the kitchen side of the room.

"three o'clock." caleb suddenly voiced out from his position on the recliner, his eyes flicking to you, but quickly averting his gaze back to his phone when he caught your eye.

mrs. xia wiped her hands on her trousers, before leaning against the breakfast bar. "right, well dinner should be ready in about an hour, but first i think we should discuss [name]'s sleeping arrangements," she announced, her voice sounding like she was talking to herself more than anything.

"she can sleep in my room," caleb blurted suddenly, looking slightly bashful despite his easygoing nature. "i can sleep in'ere, on the sofa, i don't mind."

oh my gosh.

caleb just offered me his room! which means... i'll get to sleep in his room, i'll get to see his room, i'll be lying down on his bed in his room.

fate just keeps on surprising you today, huh?

caleb's room was near exactly what you had imagined.

dark green walls complimented a neutral soft carpet, with plain wooden furniture balancing out everything so nicely. there were a few posters on the wall, of various basketball players and teams, along with the odd photograph or two of caleb with his family and friends. there were a few golden medals, their ribbons strung around some old nails lined up in a row against the wall.

you've always known, that caleb is a natural-born athlete.

glancing down at the present that rested snugly in your palm, you sighed, placing it carefully onto the desk beside you. so much drama, all over one tiny little gift.

suddenly, a gentle knock on the door sounded, startling you. your head snapped towards the door, but it remained silent and still for like 10 seconds. narrowing your eyes at it, you turn your gaze away.

were you starting to hear things?

"hey, new tenant?" the muffled voice of caleb sounded through the door, and you instinctively widened your eyes. also, what kind of nickname was that? "can i come in, please?"

"um, yep!" you shouted back in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. quickly, you lunged for the present which was sitting on caleb's desk, concealing it in the first place you could find—which was behind the desk. it was a bit of a tight squeeze lodging it there, but miraculously, you managed to squeeze it in before the door creaked open with a groan.

caleb's head popped around the door, his face visibly relaxing once he caught sight of your figure. then, he steps in, a little hesitant, holding something in his hand. he held up the item, and it appears to be some sort of clothing. "mum told me to give you this, since you don't have pajamas."

"oh, thank you..." you replied, trying a soft smile. slowly, you accept the clothing from his hands, and you could feel the way your fingers brushed for a split-second. it made you warm.

"it's no problem. anything for a pretty girl like you." you stood in shock for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed at the boy standing right infront of you. it took a few more moments before caleb realized the nature of his words, and when he did, his ears turn red. clearing his throat, he brings up something else, "cough, need help setting up the bed?"

he was already at the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled past his forearms, the faint scent of vanilla and warm bread still clinging to him like a ghost.

you nodded before your brain could catch up. the bed creaked softly as the two of you worked in silence, tucking in corners, fluffing the pillowcases. and for a while, it felt almost so oddly domestic.

but then, as you smoothed your palm over the top sheet, his hand stilled. his eyes were on you. "uh... hold still for a sec," he murmured, stepping toward you.

you blinked, unsure. "yes?"

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he closed the distance in slow, deliberate strides. and then, without warning, his fingers reached up, calloused and careful, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek.

"spaghetti," he muttered, almost amused. "bolognese. right here." a quiet laugh left him, soft and stunned, like he hadn’t expected it either.

instantly, you turned beet red. not just from the proximity, not just from the way caleb was so close that you could start counting his lashes from this distance, but because you've revealed a rather unpleasant side of yourself to him. the spaghetti bolognese his mother had cooked for dinner earlier satisfied your taste buds so well that you hadn't noticed it smearing on your cheek.

his thumb hovered, not quite done. then, his gaze dropped. first to your eyes. then lower... to your lips.

and for a second, just a breath, he didn't move.

but then, he blinked, stepping back. the warmth snapped away with him. "there," caleb said, though his ears were tinged pink again. "you’re good."

he turned back to the bed, adjusting the edge of the blanket like it suddenly needed fixing. like he hadn’t just looked at you like that.

you stayed still after he stepped back, eyes trained on the bed like it might offer some kind of guidance. your cheek still tingled a little where his thumb had brushed, and you could feel the heat lingering there.

he cleared his throat. "sorry, by the way. i didn’t mean to, like, get in your space.”

you shook your head quickly, looking up at him. “no, it’s okay. i didn’t notice it was there.”

he let out a short breath. “guess that’s what happens when you really go in on pasta, huh.”

you laughed under your breath, a little embarrassed. “it was good, okay? i wasn’t thinking about my face.”

“really?” he says in a sing-song voice, "next time y'should try my cooking."

you both stood there for a second, the quiet kind of hovering. caleb shifted his weight onto one foot, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

“well,” he said, glancing at the bed, “this should be fine for you, i think. the heater’s already on so you won’t freeze.”

“looks good,” you said. “thank you.”

his eyes flicked toward the pajamas still folded in your arms. “those might be a little big, just saying.” ugh, when will he leave so i can release this jittery feeling i've been holding back ever since he came in here? i already want to roll around the bed and squeal!

“i’ll survive.” you manage.

he nodded. his hand hovered near the doorknob, but he didn’t open it just yet. “alright. i’ll, uh, leave you alone now. let you get settled.”

“mhm, okay.”

“cool. night.”

“night.”

and then he was gone. the door clicked shut, the sound quiet against the hush of the snowstorm outside. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, then looked down at the pajamas in your hands.

and then you flopped. face-first onto the bed. a full-body, limbs-splayed-out, dramatic flop. a squeal escaped before you could stop it, muffled by the sheets.

"what just happened," you whispered into the blanket, voice high and panicked in the most ridiculous way. "what just happened."

you kicked your feet a little. rolled onto your back. then onto your side. then back again.

you had talked to caleb. you had brushed hands. he wiped food off your face. he looked at you. and he called you pretty. like, casually! like it was nothing. like your heart wasn’t going to launch itself out of your chest.

you groaned, throwing a pillow over your face. this was not how you expected your evening to go when you walked across their bakery holding the gift.

and now you were in his room, with a blizzard locking you in for the night. "i’m gonna die," you muttered to the ceiling.

but you were smiling. so much it kind of hurt.

3 hours.

you laid there, flat on your back, eyes dry from staring too long at the same stupid spot on the ceiling. the room had long gone quiet, no more creaking footsteps outside, no muffled laughter from mrs. xia and her husband. even your phone screen was starting to burn your retinas, the endless doomscrolling doing absolutely nothing to help.

you sighed and flipped to your side again for what had to be the hundredth time.

the blanket was warm. the pillows were soft. the bed even smelled like vanilla and something familiar and safe. but none of it mattered. because one very important thing was missing.

your plushie.

your stupid, irreplaceable, well-loved plushie that you had dragged around since you were ten. the one with the slightly lopsided button eye and the torn little ear you never quite got around to sewing back on. the one thing that could ever get your body to relax enough to actually sleep.

you groaned, shoving your face into the pillow. how were you supposed to survive the night without it? your arms felt weird. your chest felt cold. everything just felt… off.

you opened your eyes, staring blankly into the dark. there was no way you were going to sleep tonight. not unless you found a way to hug something.

maybe you could steal a pillow from the hallway?

…or, god forbid—ask caleb if he had a spare?

nope. absolutely not. you would rather freeze. you rolled onto your back again, sighing deeply. “this is so dumb,” you whispered to the ceiling.

it didn't take you long enough before you find yourself standing, your toes barely making a sound against the carpet while you crept out of the room, pajamas just a bit too long, sleeves brushing past your fingers. the hallway was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow spilling in from the living room.

you told yourself it was just for water. just something to sip so you could trick your body into thinking it was okay to rest. nothing more.

but just as you turned the corner, there he was.

caleb. curled up sideways on the sofa, legs hanging off the armrest like he’d melted into it, his phone casting a cool glow across his face. he looked cozy. a little sleepy, but still very much awake.

and he saw you immediately. your eyes locked like it was choreographed.

you froze.

so did he.

for a second, neither of you said a word, just two stunned statues in the quiet of midnight. “…can’t sleep?” he finally asked, voice husky and rough with tiredness, but not unfriendly.

you blinked. your fingers gripped the hem of the oversized top. “not really,” you admitted. “uh. was gonna get some water.”

he sat up slowly, the phone slipping onto his chest. “kitchen’s free.”

you nodded, but didn’t move yet. then he tilted his head, eyes scanning your face like he already knew something was up. “you okay?”

you hesitated. should you lie? brush it off? make some excuse? or maybe, just maybe, you could admit the truth. the ridiculous, embarrassing truth. your lips parted, unsure. “…okay, yeah, i can't sleep. not without my pillow.” your plushie, actually.

his mouth quirked, but not in a mocking way. “really?”

“yeah. laugh all you want.”

“i’m not laughing.” he stretched his arms over his head, then let them fall onto his lap with a sigh. “kinda cute, honestly.”

your face warmed. “don’t call it that.”

“but it is.”

you clicked your tongue and started walking toward the kitchen just to escape the way his gaze felt on you. “i’m just gonna get that water now, thanks.”

you heard him chuckle as you stood by the sink, cold glass in hand, the sound of water trickling in almost louder than your heartbeat. everything felt surreal. you used to just watch him from the far end of classrooms, pretending not to look. used to catch glimpses of him laughing with his friends and wonder what it would be like to be that close.

and now? now you were here. in his house. talking to him. because of a stupid snowstorm.

you tightened your grip on the glass, grounding yourself. you took a quiet sip, trying to calm the storm inside for once.

then you felt a shift beside you. a soft presence. the quiet scrape of socked feet on tile.

caleb, leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, the glow from the overhead light catching in the warm violet of his eyes. “the rest are already fast asleep,” he murmured, voice low like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet.

you glanced up at him. and god. why did he have to look that good under sleepy kitchen lighting?

he wasn’t even doing anything, just standing there in sweatpants and that loose black shirt, like he’d stepped out of a dream you forgot you were having.

your eyes lingered a second too long, before he noticed. his brow arched slightly, amused.

you quickly looked away, down at your glass like it suddenly held the secrets of the universe. “right. yeah,” you said, voice tight and awkward. you looked down at the rim of your glass, fingers tracing along the condensation, anything to keep from meeting his eyes again.

then, quietly, almost sheepishly, you asked, “do you feel okay sleeping on the sofa? sorry for having to take your bed away…” your voice barely carried over the hum of the fridge.

for a moment, caleb didn’t respond. you glanced up, and he was already looking at you. that same soft, unreadable expression on his face. then he shrugged a shoulder, lips tugging into a small smile.

“it’s not a big deal.”

“still. you didn’t have to.”

he scoffed gently, amused. “what, should i let you sleep on the couch while it’s practically snowing knives out there? nah. not happening.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile too obviously.

he leaned his elbow on the counter, his body angled toward you now, casual, but his gaze still settled on your features like you were something he couldn’t quite figure out. “besides,” he added, quieter this time, “if it means you’re here… i think i’m okay with it.”

your heart stuttered. you blinked. “...what?”

he looked down, like he couldn’t believe he said that either, brushing a hand through his hair. “i mean, like, i don’t mind. i like... talking to you. and stuff.” his voice was flustered now, the same one you heard when he complimented you earlier, and you knew that your face was fully red again.

you set the glass down carefully, pulse loud in your ears. “i… like talking to you too,” you mumbled, so quietly it was barely audible.

but he heard it. and he smiled again, looking away, like really tilting his head away from your direction. “aaalright,” he sings, stepping back from the counter with a stretch, “since neither of us is sleeping anytime soon… wanna play something?”

you raised a brow, a little wary. “play what?”

he shot you a look like you’d just challenged him. “cards. i’ve got a deck in the drawer. loser has to pick truth or dare.”

“truth or dare? seriously?”

“hey,” caleb said, already moving toward the living room, that smug little smirk growing, “don’t act like you’re not curious. or scared.”

you scoffed, setting your glass down and following him. “i’m not scared.”

“uh-huh,” he called over his shoulder, crouching near the TV stand to rummage through a drawer. “we’ll see how brave you are when i ask if you’ve ever had a crush on someone in this house.”

you choked a little. “that’s—”

he turned, waving the deck at you with a grin. “then don’t lose.”

and with that, caleb plopped down onto the carpet by the coffee table, legs crossed, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. the snow outside still raged on quietly, blanketing the world, but inside, the only storm was the one building between your shared glances and half-laughs.

you sat on the carpet as well, across from him, heart thudding in anticipation. “ready to lose?” he teased, shuffling the cards.

but when you actually started to play now, caleb was the first one to lose. you tried not to gloat, but your grin said it all.

he rolled his eyes with a lazy smirk, leaning back on his palms. “alright, alright. truth.”

you tapped your chin, pretending to think. but really, the question had already been burning in your chest, because this was a golden opportunity! you leaned forward slightly, voice a little too soft. “what do you think of me?” alright. yeah. it was a cheesy question, but what else can i ask?

he didn’t flinch, nor did he shy away. caleb just looked at you, straight on. “i think you’re cute.”

you malfunctioned. why is he so blunt?

he went on, calm, unbothered. “fun to talk to. smart. a little chaotic, in a good way. definitely my... type.” your brain stalled. but caleb just shrugged like he just told you the weather. “why?”

you opened your mouth, closed it again. “i—um. nothing. no reason.”

he gave you a little smirk, already reshuffling the cards. “you asked. don’t get shy now.”

you stared at him, fully malfunctioning while he just dealt the next hand like he didn’t just flip your entire world upside down in five seconds flat.

"hey, continue playin now." he called over, but caleb lost again. you had to stifle your laughter, but there was a spark of excitement inside you. it was like luck had completely turned your way tonight after all the previous events.

"seriously?" caleb squinted, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "again?"

"looks like it,"

he sighed dramatically, as if he were going to quit the game, but then perked up. "fine, dare me."

you hesitated for a second. part of you wanted to go big, do something wild, but then you remembered just how much chaos he'd already caused. instead, you decided to play it safe. "pinch yourself," you said, trying to keep a straight face.

caleb blinked, eyes widening for a split second as he processed the request. then, he gave you a flat look. "that's it?"

"yep."

he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with that trademark smirk. "aw, disappointing," he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "kinda expected you to..."

you blinked, your heart pounding a little faster as his gaze lingered on you. "to what?"

"nuthin', nuthin'," he said, waving it off with a small shrug. he then proceeded to pinch his own arm, and you couldn’t help but watch as he did it.

the next round, you actually lost now.

caleb's grin was wide as ever, but then, as you looked at him, you noticed something shift. for a split second, his expression faltered just for a moment, but it was enough to make you wonder what was going through his mind. it was almost like he was thinking about something different.

he cleared his throat quickly, wiping that flicker of uncertainty away, and leaned back in his chair with that same smug look. "looks like you lost. truth or dare?"

you didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. "dare," you said, hoping you'd make it through this round without too much embarrassment.

caleb’s gaze locked onto yours. there was something in his eyes now, something that made you feel a little unsteady. his usual playful teasing was still there, but now it felt sharper, like he was testing you.

after a long, deliberate pause, he finally spoke, his voice a whisper. "kiss me."

your heart stopped. time seemed to freeze for a moment, and your eyes widened as you stared at him in complete shock. did he really just say that? your mind raced, trying to catch up. there was no way he could be serious, right?

but caleb didn’t move, his gaze was still intense, waiting for your response, keeping the ball at your court.

you felt heat flood your face, your stomach flipping in a way that made you feel like you might combust. your breath caught in your throat. what do i even do? “w-what?” you stammered, trying to keep your cool.

"what?," he repeated sardonically, voice calm but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "it’s a dare, ain't it? nuthin' serious. unless you want it to be?"

you were frozen, the tension thick in the air. caleb’s gaze hadn’t softened, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was messing with you. or was he actually being serious? you swallowed hard once more, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind was a whirl of confusion, embarrassment, and... something else. something like desire.

but you couldn't back out now. not in front of him. so slowly, you crawled to him, and as you drawled closer, your heartbeat pounded in your ears, each one louder than the last. you barely even realized your hands were trembling.

as you reached him, your face inches from his, you could feel the heat from his body. caleb's eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, and for just a moment, everything felt unbearably charged.

then, as if to break the tension, he cracked a grin and leaned back just slightly. "hey, you really don’t have to. just a dare, remember?"

you blinked, your mind still reeling. your heart was still racing. "this isn’t funny," you muttered, pulling away quickly.

caleb chuckled softly, clearly amused by the whole situation, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual. “sorry, sorry,” he said, the teasing tone still there, "go on now."

you didn't think. you just did it.

your heart pounded as you leaned in, closing the distance, and pressing your lips against his, just a quick peck. nothing too intense. just a soft, fleeting touch.

but caleb... caleb twitched. his whole body stilled for a second, like he'd been struck dumb. his eyes widened just a fraction, and for the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was something raw flickering in his gaze.

you pulled away quickly, your breath hitched in your throat, and you quickly tried to turn away, heart still racing. what the hell did i just do?

but then, caleb didn’t look the way you expected. he didn’t laugh, nor did he make an attempt to tease. no, his gaze was fixed on you, intense and unblinking. his lips parted slightly as he looked at you like he was waiting for something.

there was a brief silence, and then, with a shift in his tone, he asked, "am i allowed to have a follow-up dare?"

you blinked, caught off guard. "huh?"

caleb didn’t smile this time, his eyes softening just a little, as if something unspoken passed between you two. "yeah." his gaze lingered on your lips for a moment, and you could feel the weight of it, “kiss. not just a peck.”

you froze.

“come on,” he said, his voice practically dripping with that same confident teasing. but it was different now. there was a quiet longing beneath the playfulness. “just a kiss. no big deal. it’s just a dare, right?”

your mind went blank. this is not just a dare. he’s... he’s serious.

you swallowed hard, your palms starting to sweat. the room felt smaller. everything felt louder; the way his heart beat, the way your pulse raced, the sound of your breath mixing in the silence between you two.

and then, just like that, with no further hesitation, caleb closed the distance between you again, leaning in as his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation.

you didn’t stop him. the kiss was different this time. deeper, slower. there was no teasing now, it was just the two of you, caught in a moment that neither of you had really expected, but neither of you could seem to pull away from.

when you finally broke away, both of you were breathing heavily. caleb’s fingers curled tightly at his sides, like he was trying to restrain himself from doing something impulsive. his body was completely tense, and his eyes avoided yours for a brief moment, focusing on the space between you two.

he exhaled, the sound of his breath almost imperceptible, and then his gaze flicked back to you. his voice was quieter now, a little more controlled, as he whispered, “you should go and sleep now, gettin kinda late..”

"yeah… good night,” you whispered back, pulling away and standing up to settle back into his bedroom down the hallway.

before you could even take that step away, caleb was already on his feet. his hand caught your wrist swiftly, and then his other hand found the side of your face. there was no pause, no breath between. he instantly kissed you. "mmn—"

your eyes fluttered shut, body frozen in shock before melting into the sudden heat of it all. his lips pressed against yours like he was trying to make up for every second he didn’t. like he didn’t want to stop. and he didn’t.

instead, he broke the kiss only for a heartbeat, his forehead resting against yours, breath ghosting your lips. “come with me,” he whispered, voice husky.

you barely nodded, barely processed it, before he was gently tugging your hand, leading you back toward his bedroom in silence. it was sudden. so fast you didn’t even get to question it. the moonlight through the windows washed softly over the both of you as you stepped in.

the moment the door clicked shut behind, the world seemed to fall away. caleb’s lips were back on yours before you could even think to process what was happening, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

he kissed you with a hunger that took you by surprise, each kiss deeper, more urgent than the last, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. his hands roamed to your back, to your hips, to your waist, tugging you toward him until there was no space left between your bodies.

the kiss wasn’t soft anymore, it was messy, passionate, as if he was trying to savor every second, devour every inch of you. your mind was a whirlwind, overwhelmed with sensations, but your body responded before you could even stop it, your hands coming up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer, if that was even possible.

his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss even more, and for a moment, you forgot everything else. the snowstorm outside, the awkwardness, the game, everything was gone.

caleb’s lips trailed from your mouth, leaving a trail of warmth as they moved down to your neck. the sensation of his kiss against your skin made your breath hitch, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped you.

his lips paused just below your ear, and he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your neck. "shhh," he whispered, his voice low and almost possessive. "wouldn't want them to hear you now, do you?"

without breaking the gaze, he pushes you onto the bed, his body following as he hovered over you. his hands framed your face, as if making sure you had nowhere to look but him.

he watched you carefully, breath a little heavier now, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. your face was flushed, lips slightly parted, and for a second, he just studied you, making sure he didn’t move too quickly.

“tell me if you wanna stop,” caleb murmured, his voice softer than before, but still full of that same heat. he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours, a quiet gesture of reassurance amidst the tension. “i won’t push you, okay?”

"it's okay, keep going.."

caleb's eyes narrowed with desire as he heard your breathless consent. a slow, small smile spread across his handsome face, his dimples flashing in the moonlight. "mkay," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

he leaned down, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck once more. you gasped as he began to trail kisses along your jawline, his mouth hot and insistent against your flesh. his teeth grazed your skin, nipping and biting gently as he made his way down to your collarbone.

your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the soft locks as you arched your back slightly, giving him better access to your neck. a soft moan escaped your lips as he suckled on your pulse point, no doubt leaving a mark of his possession.

you couldn't believe it, from a snowstorm to a make out session with your crush. you couldn't believe it. but you wanted to keep on going, despite your lack of experience.

caleb's hands roamed your curves, his fingers splaying across your ribcage before sliding down to your hips. he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your bottoms, tugging on them slightly as he continued his sensual assault on your neck and chest.

while he kissed lower, his tongue flicked out to taste the soft swell of your breasts, his teeth catching on the lace of your bra. he looked up at you, eyes filled with a hunger that made your core throb with need. without breaking eye contact, he reached behind you and unhooked your bra with deft fingers, tossing it aside carelessly.

your breasts spilled free, and caleb's mouth was on them in an instant. he laved his tongue over one hardened nipple before drawing it into his mouth, suckling greedily. his other hand came up to knead the soft mound of your breast, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh.

he's doing it all so quickly and effortlessly like he'd been practicing.

then, he worked his way down your body, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of your stomach, his tongue dipping into your belly button. he paused when he reached the waistband of your shackles, looking up at you with a teasing grin.

"lift your hips for me," he commanded, and you complied, lifting your hips off the bed as he tugged your undergarments and slid them off your ankles.

he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you laid out bare before him, his eyes roaming hungrily over your naked form.

"shit, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice filled with awe and desire. his hand came down to rest on your inner thigh, his thumb brushing maddeningly close to your aching core.

unable to resist any longer, caleb leaned in and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he worked his way further slowly, your breath hitching and your back arching off the bed as he drew closer and closer to your dripping center.

without warning, he pressed a kiss directly to your clit, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure. "caleb—" his tongue circled the sensitive bundle of nerves before he drew it into his mouth, suckling hard. your hands flew to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as your hips bucked up against his face.

while he licked and suckled your clit, caleb's hand came up to tease your entrance. "you're wet," he ran a finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his digit. unable to hold back any longer, he says, "i'm gunna put it in, okay?" he pushes a finger inside your tight channel, grunting against your clit as he felt your walls clench around the intrusion.

he began to pump his finger in and out, his pace slow and steady. at the same time, caleb pulls away to bring his other hand down to his own aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft. he grunted as he began to stroke himself simultaneously with the thrusts of his finger.

"can you look at me?" he moaned, staring down at you with a feverish gaze, you could see the beads of sweat trickling down his collarbone. he sweats so easily. he added a second finger the moment your eyes meet, pumping them in and out of your dripping cunt faster with increasing fervor.

his thumb rubbed firm circles over your clit, the rough pad of his finger stimulating the sensitive nub with each pass. "ahh, fuck!" you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillow as the intensity of your pleasure mounted. your hips bucked and writhed beneath his touch, seeking more of the delicious friction.

"quiet," caleb hissed, but nonetheless too spurred on by your enthusiastic responses that he doubles his efforts. his hand flew over his aching cock, stroking the thick shaft with fast, tight pumps. the lewd sound of squelching noises filled the room as he jerked himself off, growing louder and more urgent with each passing second. beads of pre-cum leaked from the swollen head, dripping down to coat his pumping fist.

"oh god, caleb..." you cried out again, your voice breaking as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his pistoning fingers, gripping them like a vice.

acting quickly, he brought his free hand up to cover your mouth, "you're gunna wake the house up," his palm muffling any sound that threatened to escape from you, then simultaneously, he slams his throbbing cock deep into your spasming pussy with one powerful thrust.

"mmph!" your scream of ecstasy was reduced to a strangled moan against his hand as caleb's thick shaft stretched and filled you in an instant, reaching depths you'd never felt before. your slick walls, still fluttering from your climax, clenched down around him like a hot, velvety vise.

"fuck!" caleb hissed through gritted teeth despite himself, his eyes squeezing shut at the sudden, exquisite sensations of your tight, dripping cunt gripping his cock. he stilled for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the intense sensation of being so utterly filled and connected.

his hips pressed firmly against yours, the coarse hair at the base of his shaft tickling your sensitive skin. his chest heaved against your own as he struggled to maintain control, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"jesus christ you're tight," caleb breathed, his lips brushing against your ear. "we don't wanna alert the whole house to what we're doing. so..." caleb began to move, "keep quiet, alright?"

yeah, you're totally gonna keep quiet about how three days before christmas your plan of giving your crush an anonymous gift during a snowstorm led you to having sex with him in his bedroom. absolutely. you're going to keep quiet about how you used to just observe caleb playing basketball from the bleachers and now you're watching him tease his dick into your hole. those irises that only used to meet your gaze in hallways, now eyed you down while he rubbed his tip against your womb.

"mmh...!" you continued whining. how couldn't you? he stretched you out so perfectly, and he looks so hot doing it.

"i told you to keep quiet, right?" caleb pressed his hand on your lips even more harder. "right?"

yeah, you're gonna keep quiet about this.

[neckromantics]

More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

~

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

~

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

~

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

~

Please, I beg. Give me more.

[lay-z]

Simon Riley wants to eat you alive.

Everyone privileged enough to be considered close to him, knows that Simon Riley has the biggest sweet tooth.

He eats his dessert first if he feels like it which is most of the time and would rather munch on a box of Belgian pralines than scoff down a more nourishing MRE in the field.

He doesn't have a favourite. Creamy chocolates and toffees, fruity hard candies, succulent cakes and biscuits, hell even salted licorice if he's particularly desperate.

The man has been claimed dead one too many times in his wretched life at this point, so why should he bloody care about something silly like his sugar intake. If he sees something sweet, he will simply lift his mask high enough to stuff his ugly gob full with a whole cupcake in one obscene bite before hiding behind the cloth again, wiping the frosting off his gloves on the dirty ground or even his fatigues carelessly.

No one ever dares to comment on the strange sticky stains on his gear; the smudged pinks, and whites, and browns. When Johnny called him gross once, he ended up with a nasty bruise on his cheekbone and a better understanding of his Lieutenant's sugar addiction.

However, the craving stays and festers in his gut like an insatiable hole that's been carved into his battered body, and no piece of cake nor chocolate can begin to sate his hunger for something soft and sweet to sink his crooked teeth into.

It's no surprise then, when Simon notices you one fateful day; sniffs you out, because he easily catches your scent as you walk past him with your gaze straight ahead, and he knows the sour bitterness that seems to be oozing out of your pores all too well.

It's such a feeble attempt of yours at keeping your own mask in place; hiding behind thick layers of pessimism and sarcasm, dark humor, and feigned indifference, although it only makes Simon's mouth water even more as he knows exactly what you're hiding behind your poorly crafted walls.

Because next to his sweet tooth, he's also a bloody masochist loves feeling his cold heart thumb with something akin to feelings whenever you reject his clumsy advances. You've somehow gotten under his skin in a way that no one dared to even try before and Simon is ready to rip his mask off and tear down his own walls to make you understand, make you see that he's just the same, just as starved for something real and longlasting.

"You can stop with tha' whole," he makes a vague gesture with his gloved mammoth hand at you, "attitude shite around me now, luv. Not gonna work, ya know."

Again, you simply roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in exasperation as you avert your gaze from him with a frown, but Simon catches the flush creeping up your neck, warming your cheeks right up at his unyielding attention. So stubborn, just like him.

"Can't you go bother someone else?" you huff quietly, though he knows you don't mean it. "Bloody nutter." None of it.

And Simon, not Ghost, has finally found a new purpose in his life.

Hidden deep, deep down inside you, there's the softest and sweetest gooey core, and he is more than determined to peel away every thick layer like colorful candy wrapper all the colors already a warning in itself, one he shall too ignore until your fragile little heart is exposed, completely bared to him, so he can finally indulge, and lay his burning claim.

Oh, but little does he know you've been starving and denying yourself anything sweet for years as well, and perhaps, now that he gave you a taste of what you too been yearning for, you turn out worse than Simon himself.

Okay, I actually might turn this into a longer oneshot. Also, Simon would definitely save your name as Truffle<3 in his contacts :) @bloodytalefeathers 🤍

[clockwayswrites]

Oh Birb Part 11

Masterpost

Next Thursday. Alright, Danny could do next Thursday. He still didn’t know how he had gotten invited to Cassandra Wayne’s dance recital, but sure enough there was a link to a ticket and the event information in his email the next morning.

He was just checking in on work real quickly before he left for the Far Frozen. Or maybe he was putting off the trip for as long as he could. Danny knew that he had to go see Frostbite, but he was afraid of what answers the yeti might have. Or, worse, the answers that Frostbite didn’t have.

Danny didn’t know what would really be worse.

‘You are on vacation, Mr. Fenton.’ Popped up in Danny’s Slack and he rolled his eyes. Of course Lucius was keeping an eye on him.

‘Just checking on things before I leave.’ Danny replied. ‘I’ll be off for the next five days, promise.’

‘That better be true.’

He would have much choice, his current phone wouldn’t work in the zone.

Danny refreshed his inbox one last time before he turned his tablet off and tucked away in the basket next to the couch. Fridge emptied of anything that would spoil, trash taken out, far too many plants watered… Danny was out of excuses.

“Going ghost,” he grumbled with a sigh. He didn’t really need to say that part out loud anymore, not after all these years, but sometimes it just made it easier. A sense of bitter, binding cold washed over him. It was like breathing ice. The shards stabbed at his lungs, choked his air, killed him— and then it was gone. It was all gone. His breath, his heart beat, the pull of gravity, the ache in his bones… his life.

Danny breathed out a breath he didn’t have and let himself drift up a few inches into the air. At least he didn’t hurt. For now. Returning to his body after this trip was going to be miserable. That was a later him problem, right then Danny just enjoyed being weightless. He breathed in and out, letting his body relax from the top of his head to his toes and all the way out to the tips of his wings.

Wait. His what now?

Danny’s fit hit the ground hard. He scrambled his way over to the long mirror titled against the wall by the door. And froze.

Wings.

Those were… those were wings.

Massive black wings with spots of white on the outside and more white on the inside. There was a slightly iridescent sheen to them as he twisted and turned to try and get a look at them.

They were. He had… okay. He had wings as Phantom now. Wings that were definitely like he had seen in the videos when he was that bird thing. Danny ran his fingers over his face, wincing as his finger tips caught a little. His taloned fingertips. That’s great he was turning into a bird.

Cheep cheep, motherfucker, Danny thought hysterically.

He had been expecting a midlife crisis as he approached forty, but turning into a bird wasn’t how he thought it would go!

He needed to get to the Far Frozen. He needed answers. He needed Frostbite to have answers. Focusing on the concept of the Far Frozen, Danny dragged a clawed finger through the air, tearing a hole in reality.

The portal glowed a noxious green.

Danny took a breath and flew through it.

---

AN: I polled the HH discord if Phantom should have wings or not and it was unanimously 'yes' so! Poor Danny, having such a panic!

Can you believe we're up to 4 chapters now for this silliness?

Stay delightful, darlings.

[xo2dee]

NOW LOADING. .

LADS MASTERLIST

DESSERT

PAIRING: Sylus x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Oral sex, cunnilingus, face-sitting. WORD COUNT: 2,394 SUMMARY: And what else does Sylus want for his birthday? Of course he wants you to sit on his face.

A/N: his bday memory was so sweet i feel like a freak for this but who gaf. HAPPY BDAY SYLUS

Three letters. One word. One syllable. And one definition with one purpose behind it but a multitude of different places to do it. Just one tiny word that had you freezing in your spot and widening your eyes once you realized what Sylus was insinuating.

“Sit.”

If your eyes could’ve bulged out of your head you were sure they did then, a new, horribly embarrassed appearance painting your face at him asking for you to sit on his face. Though as flustered as you were that he said it so indifferently, you couldn’t help that snaking sensation of invigorating thrill over him wanting you to do so. You met his eyes and then looked off around towards anywhere that wasn’t there since he was back to the soul-piercing gaze again, nevermind the fact you were literally hovering your drenched pussy over his face either…

You couldn’t help but to fall back onto his chest, sitting atop all pretty in the lingerie you had bought for his birthday as he rose one lone eyebrow at your sudden shy behavior. It wasn’t like it was the first time for either of you too, and Sylus had spent a generous amount of time with his face in-between your legs, but you’d never actively sat on his face in the throes of intimacy. A cough left you as you looked off the side, slightly confused on why on the night of his birthday he was wanting you to sit on his face rather than get the ride of his life from you, or even getting the best head he’d ever gotten, and you had to stop the goosebumps spreading across your entire body when his rich chuckle vibrated your inner thighs.

“Cold feet?” he asked after a few moments, finger idly drawing patterns into your thighs as he waited for you to gather yourself.

Rolling your eyes you tapped a rhythm onto his chest, “No, just… didn’t think this was what you’d want for your birthday.” If anything, you thought the way he’d been eyeballing you in your dress all night meant you would get your hands on him for vigorous rounds of sex until he was worn down into the mattress, yet he threw you for a loop the moment you surprised him with your lingerie and he only curled an index finger forward for you to wiggle your hips up to his face. That was what had you stumped, and nevermind you were all but dripping waiting for it to happen, you just didn’t know if he’d live the encounter…

“Why not?” His eyes lidded as they trailed up the expanse of your inner thighs and into where your cunt laid shadowed by the negligee, “Everyone wants dessert on their birthday.” He even chuckled at his own (bad) joke, like he was the funniest person to ever walk the planet.

You groaned at the awful joke – nothing but a cornball he’d been all night, “Sylus…”

A sigh swelled the expanse of his chest, his hands moving away from your thighs to instead massage his thumbs into your hipbones. The thick carnality left his gaze for the moment, replaced by genuine interest once he saw the way you were stalling, “What’s bothering you?” he spoke tenderly as he soothed you, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly ashamed for what you were going to say.

Hugging your arms closer to your body, you looked off towards a spot beside his ear as your own began to burn from your shameful admission, “What if… What if I suffocate you?”

There, you said it. And it sounded even worse said aloud, but apparently to Sylus he found the entire ordeal humorous as he began to laugh so hard he began to shake you. You couldn’t help the scowl, playfully swatting at his chest to get him to stop laughing and take you seriously and only achieving in doing so when you closed your thighs enough to where it squished his cheeks together. Ruby eyes squinted at you before he nipped at your inner thigh, his hands sliding back down to your thighs to pull them apart as your body began to raise on its own again.

His chuckle tickled you, using the hold he had on your thighs to slowly rock you back and forth, “It hurts you don’t have more faith in me, sweetie,” he reassured you as he walked you back to hovering directly over his mouth, his face the literal poster of desire if you ever saw it and his eyes pooling with unbridled lust as he eyed the darkened spot of your panties, “I think I can handle Little Miss Hunter sitting on my face. And if I forget to come up for air?” One lone eyebrow arched again, a shrug accompanying it as he hummed, “Well, consider me bested.”

He had a point, and you knew he was right. So really it was your own shameful embarrassment that was holding you back from you both getting what you wanted. And really, what was the difference from the various other times he’d had his nose in your pussy? It was basically the same premise, yet that time… a little up close and personal…

You exhaled heavily as you came out of your thoughts from him softly massaging into your thighs, shifting closer to him as you placed your hands onto the headboard and giving him affirmation, “Okay, just… push me off or something if it gets to be too much.”

“I won’t.”

Before you could ask what he meant and if he meant it about being uncomfortable or the way you weren’t even able to pull your panties to the side or even get them fucking off, Sylus had grasped your waist in a strong grip and pulled you down to sit directly over his awaiting mouth. You gasped as your nails dug into the headboard from his tenacity, the gasp during into a squeal when he full-on pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the material of your panties over your sopping opening before swiping his tongue along your clothed slit and began to suck through them while groaning loudly at the taste of your fluids soaked into your panties.

Your back arched immediately as you felt him huff into your panties before swiping his tongue along you again, another high-pitched whine leaving you before you were able to gather your bearings, “Sylus! At least let me take my panties off…” Oh he was eager for it.

He had the audacity to groan, one hand sliding down your hip as you only lifted up a fraction while the other came to hook a finger into the front of your panties. After pushing your panties to the side far enough for him to seat his mouth back along your cunt, he was already lapping upward onto your slit with just the tip of his tongue to start out with. Your eyes closed as he returned his other hand to your hip, encouraging you to begin swinging your hips atop his mouth and face with his thumb rubbing slow circles into your hip bones to better reassure you. You began to follow along with his movements as you rode his face, his pointed nose better hitting your swollen clit as you moved more.

Your thighs nearly closed on his head again as you dropped one hand from the headboard and coiled a good chunk of his hair into your hand and used the hold you had on it for leverage to move your hips faster along his face and get his nose rub your clit better. The answering result from that was his lips closing in around your folds and sucking hard while you keened and nearly ripped some of his hair out of his head in the process.

He grunted that time from the tug you gave his hair, arching your back further inwards and lolling your head to hazily gaze at a spot on his ceiling once it vibrated into you. Sylus’ tousled hair wisped along your inner thighs as you rocked your hips for more of that tickling sensation and to get him where you really wanted him, his face burying deeper and literally inside of you when your lips began pushing out louder noises.

“Fuck –! Sylus!” Were the first two words you were able to conjure up since you sat on his face, your hand on the headboard returning to scratching at it as you interwove your fingers into the silvery strands atop his head. You heard him groan again, the noise reverberating through your pussy as he curled his tongue along them in every which way to gather as much of your slick as he could to lather it upon his tastebuds.

Your eyes rolled, your hips desperately trying to rock harder against his face for his tongue to push deeper into your cunt and his nose to hit your clit in just the right spot. Your hand on the headboard had moved to fist the sheets next to his head to anchor yourself as you began to tug and pull as much as you could for how your mind was beginning to spin into dizziness and your legs were beginning grow weaker as the seconds passed both of you. Your anxiety was gone then, a fleeting thought to criticize yourself later for even being worried in the first place retaining to what he was doing and the knowledge that he liked it.

The amount of loud moans he was pulling out of you was downright sinful, your grinding picking up as you tugged his hair hard enough to lift his head a fraction and have that pointed tip he possessed on his nose slide right along the perfect spot atop your clit. He groaned loud into your sopping cunt then, making you clench hard around his tongue while your eyes fluttered shut when the vibration of it expanded out from inside of you and tingled up towards your clit while your fingers tugged harsher onto his hair to get another delicious moan from him to echo into your pussy.

Your muscles felt practically useless and the noises you were producing growing louder as his enthusiasm grew tenfold when his hold on your waist doubled down to almost bruising and you started to hear his breathing become labor. He was getting off to again just as much as you were, and the thought sent a hard curl downwards to where your anticipated release grew rapidly and out of control.

You were close.

It was debauch in the way you desperately chased after your release in the form of freely fucking his face while he didn’t seem to mind that you were using him so greedily, his own gluttony showing in the way he was eagerly rolling and twisting his tongue about your pussy and teetering you down to come undone around the appendage again.

You jerked at his hair and shook your head when you felt the quivering of your legs increase, “Sylus,  I’m so close, please –" you broke yourself off with another whimper as the only answer he gave to that was to pull you impossibly closer, hands sliding up once to fondle your tits in a squeeze before he smoothed them back down your abdomen and let one fasten atop your thigh in a hard grip as the other hand trailed further down to let the pad of his thumb rub away at your swollen clit in fast tight circles.

You moaned his name again in a wail, your eyebrows furrowing with sweat beginning to line your brow as the combined factor of his tongue-fucking, clit rubbing and your grinding was nearly too much for you to bear. The thought had you unraveling at a devastating pace, your eyes rolling back into your head as Sylus’s tongue slithered out of your pussy and his hot breath sifted across your thighs and opening before he was latching onto your cunt in a kiss with a breathless moan as he ran the fat on his tongue in quick licks to pull you down further down into ecstasy.

“Sylus –”

Your hips rolled faster, harder.

Sylus’s tongue licked and sucked faster, harder.

Another loud groan vibrated your entire cunt and your thighs constricted more around his head as they began to roughly shake with another pornographic moan falling out your mouth. The pressure in you was too large to ignore then, spine tightening as you sought relief for it and when Sylus’s thumb returned to rubbing harsh circles into your clit and his tongue wiggled along your opening teasing it and you could feeeeeeel –

You didn’t get another chance to warn him when the coil inside of you broke free and your cunt clenched harshly around nothing and you felt that pressure flood out of you tenfold and all into his awaiting mouth.

All the tension inside of you sprung forward like a geyser finally erupting from underground. The cry of his name (you were sure all of the N109 Zone probably heard) with your head thrown as far back as you could get it earned you another groan from him, albeit that time louder than he had been doing as it morphed into a softer moan whenever he got the full visceral taste of your cum pouring straight into his mouth and onto his tongue that he absolutely devoured. Your thighs were shaking hard around his head, and your toes had curled so hard and fingers had pulled at his hair so roughly once more to help you ride out the harsh orgasm while he slowed his rubbing onto your clit to soft massaging to help you float back down out of post-climax clarity.

You slid off of his face after a few moments, completely boneless as you flopped down to lay atop his panting form and only hearing his breathless chuckle in your ear as you could think of some way you’d get him back eventually. You were too blissed out at that moment, feeling his hand smoother over the back of your head as his lips found your ear with a small nibble.

“I suppose we’ll doing this again. And next time you can sit on my face for hours until I drown – a much better obstacle than suffocation.”

[rhiannonsknife]

Okay hopefully this one will go through lol

But imagine mean Jackie is at a sex store with Jeff. Maybe they’re looking for vibrators or something, Jackie desperately wanting to have some sort of orgasm when they have sex so she suggests that. Then you walk in all alone. You both make eye contact but you’re the first one to look away. She watches you walk over to the strap-ons and is immediately intrigued but also insanely jealous. I mean who would you even use it with? So after a restless night she goes back the next day to purchase one. She doesn’t tell you about it the next few times you hook up, keeping it locked away secretly in her closet. Not until she sees you talking to Shauna and clearly flirting (you weren’t she just gets jealous easily) she invites you over, Jeff is at some thing with his friends and her parents are out for the night. When you get there you notice the energy is different. Jackie seems cold which isn’t abnormal so to say but there’s a hint of aggression with it. As you start fucking her she stops you and you thinks she’s gonna kick you out but instead she makes your dream come true and fucks you into oblivion with her brand new strap.

I feel like I should sign off with an emoji but I’m not sure which one to choose so would it be okay if you picked one for me?

── TAKE ME LIKE YOU DO IN YOUR DREAMS

— summary: secretly hooking up with jackie taylor.

— warnings: nsfw content. mdni. internalized homophobia. cheating. fem!reader. jackie is a lesbian in denial (but what else is new?). masterlist.

jackie taylor does not belong in a place like this.

she tells herself that at least six times before she even steps inside, and then again once she does.

her posture is tense, arms hugged tight to her chest, and she swears that once they have what they need, she’ll walk out of here and never think about this again. not once, not ever.

from the second they step through the door, her discomfort is obvious.

she’d already made jeff drive at least five towns over. at this point, they might as well have crossed state lines, all to make sure they wouldn’t run into anyone they knew. so no one would catch her vibrator shopping on a random saturday afternoon like she was…some kind of person who did that, someone who needed to.

which she doesn’t.

it’s ironic, a childish assumption that there’s anything inherently wrong with this, yet jackie can’t help it. not when shame is all she’s ever been taught.

not that her mother would ever call it that, nor that mrs. taylor would ever sit jackie down and have a talk about vibrators or the sex shop five towns over. that would imply too much familiarity with the subject. no, what jackie was given wasn’t a conversation, it was an awareness.

an awareness of her body. of other people’s gazes. of what she should want, and what she definitely shouldn’t. an awareness of every precaution she needed to take if she wanted to end up in a good place. with a good husband, a good home, a good life.

it wasn’t shame, it was ‘protection’.

it was her mother’s hand tightening around hers whenever they passed a lingerie store at the mall, how she would pull jackie’s gaze forward, chin lifted high in silent disapproval, scoffing at how desperate some people were to sell sex.

jackie learned to be aware of her body before she even understood what it was for, to cross her legs properly, to never give the wrong impression.

which is why, even now, standing in a store that’s brightly lit and weirdly sterile, with neat rows of toys and magazines and shelves she refuses to look at too closely, her skin still crawls.

jackie doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that she’s desperate enough to even suggest this or the fact that jeff jumped at the idea: she’d barely gotten the words out before he was nodding, leading her toward the car like this was just another errand to check off the list.

now, as he browses the shelves beside her, looking over vibrators with all the excitement of someone picking out a new gadget at the mall, jackie feels a suffocating pressure settle all over her.

she wants to scream. or vanish. or, at the very least, stop remembering every time they’ve had sex lately and how increasingly detached she’s felt from her own body.

it’s not bad, technically. jeff is sweet enough when he tries. something is just missing, something important that jackie can’t quite figure out.

that’s the reason they’re even here: she’s starting to think she can’t keep faking it. maybe this will help. maybe if she doesn’t have to lie about it so much, she won’t dread it as much either.

“jax,” jeff calls out, holding up what looks like a sleek pink vibrator with an excited grin. “what about this one?”

she can barely look at it. “yeah. sure.”

jeff, oblivious as ever, nods and heads toward the checkout. jackie lingers in her aisle before following, gaze fixed straight ahead, careful not to stray toward the magazine rack near the register, where half-naked women stare back at her, glossy and posed and soft in a way that makes her feel hot and itchy and terrified.

she looks at the floor instead. this is fine. this is normal. she has a boyfriend. they’re buying something to improve their sex life. she should want this. she does want this.

and then, just when she thinks she’s in the clear and the worst is over, you walk in.

immediately, jackie freezes. all her mantras and attempts to at least appear calm and collected shatter altogether. whatever you’re doing out here, this far from wiskayok, and why you had to choose her sex shop, her day to be here and get whatever it is you need from this place are all questions that remain unanswered as your eyes meet across the room.

you don’t acknowledge her, which could be due to jackie’s countless reminders that “no one can know” but still stings, even if it’s her fault. you just move past her, unbothered, past the counter where jeff is now chatting with the cashier (thankfully with his back turned to you, because jackie would rather die than for him to recognize you), past the shelves full of things she refuses to look at, and head straight toward the back of the store.

and jackie, against her better judgment, watches you go, moving through the store with obvious familiarity. her skin prickles as her eyes trail over your body, at the marks she knows you’re hiding under the collar of your shirt.

jackie knows where you were last night and how you’ve gotten them. she remembers, to a point where she can practically hear it ringing in her ears, what you sounded like, what you felt like, what it was like to press her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

the hickeys across the side of your neck, and all the way down your chest because she’s greedy, are jackie’s. the person you should be here with is jackie.

instead, you’re scanning the shelves on your own, fingers trailing over packaging, pausing in front of a display that makes jackie’s head spin as she scans whatever it is that has caught your attention in your corner of the store.

strap-ons.

her mind scrambles, tries to latch onto a rational thought. all she can think is: what would you even use that for? who would you use it with? and, worse, why does her brain conjure up the image of it strapped to her hips, of you sinking down on it, mouth open in a soundless gasp? jackie has to rub her thighs together right in the middle of the aisle.

“jackie?”

she whips toward jeff, pulse rabbiting. he’s still standing at the register, bag in hand, watching her expectantly. it takes a second for her to understand what it is that he’s looking forward to so much. “you coming?”

right, other people do enjoy jackie’s body. other people, just never herself, unless she’s with you.

jackie swallows hard. “yeah,” she says quickly, following him out of the store without looking back.

jackie lasts exactly one week before she finds herself back in that store.

to be fair, the vibrator does work, shockingly well, actually. when she’s alone.

it takes her a few nights to admit it, curled under the covers, sheets tangled around her legs, muffling every sound just in case. it’s not at all why she and jeff bought it, and certainly not what he expects her to use it for.

as far as jeff knows, the thing lives in a shoebox under her bed, only to be unearthed when he’s around and she needs a little extra help (a phrase she still hates) getting there.

not that jackie has ever gotten there with jeff to begin with.

in reality, she’s started looking forward to the nights when her parents go to bed early and jeff doesn’t linger with a hopeful smile and a hand on her thigh. nights when she can slip her bedroom door shut, dig the box out from beneath her bed, and finally, finally, let herself feel something that belongs only to her.

the first time, jackie hates herself for how easy it is.

with jeff, orgasms weren’t even on the table and with just her fingers, it always took forever. a slow, sometimes frustrating climb that relied more on fantasy than sensation.

with the vibrator? revolutionary, truly.

her mind wanders every time. not to jeff and his awkward fumbling with it when they’d tried it together, pressing in all the wrong places. to you and where you stood in the strap-on aisle, your fingers brushing over one of the boxes, tracing the picture like you were considering all the possibilities that came with it.

the thought is what sends her over the edge every time.

it’s also why, the longer the week drags on, the more restless jackie gets.

things still aren’t working with jeff, regardless of what they try to improve them. no matter how well-meaning he is, it doesn’t feel right. not how it does when she’s alone.

and surely, that has to be her fault. jackie should be trying harder, should be more relaxed. more open.

it’s hard to fake it when you’ve tasted the real thing, though, hard when jeff’s hand between her legs just feels like an interruption and his expectant voice in her ear (“is this good?” “are you close?”) sounds more like pressure than pleasure.

it’s not his fault, it’s only ever hers.

she can’t stop thinking about it: about you, about the aisle, about what you might be doing with it, who you might be doing it to.

and so, on a tuesday morning close enough to graduation that no one is gonna mind her absence, jackie fakes sick.

it’s easy to convince her mother: all it takes is an extra layer of blankets, a weak cough and a mumbled ‘i think i need to sleep this off�� when she peeks in before heading out for errands to convince mrs. taylor that attendance is impossible.

she waits a full thirty minutes after the door shuts before jackie finally throws the covers off, changes out of her pajamas, and grabs the keys to her car.

the fact that she’s skipping school for this only deepens the humiliation. it feels absurd, some personal failing jackie doesn’t have the words for. at least this time, she’s alone and allows herself to push those thoughts out of her mind until after she’s gotten it done.

get in, get out, and don’t make it a thing.

the store is empty when she pushes through the front door, which is, of course, the entire point of coming on a weekday morning.

the only one around is the cashier. it’s the same one from last time: a woman in her twenties with heavy eyeliner, a septum ring, and a magazine open in front of her who doesn’t look up when jackie walks past.

jackie moves quickly. she doesn’t let herself think, scans the aisle she’s been obsessing over for days and grabs the first strap-on that looks…acceptable. not too ridiculous. nothing hyper-realistic.

her palms are sweating as she carries the awkward weight of it through the store. once she makes it to the register, her heart is beating so fast she thinks she might pass out.

the cashier barely glances up as she rings jackie out, scanning the box with all the enthusiasm of someone who has done this a thousand times. “you want condoms with this?” she asks.

“what?”

“condoms,” the cashier repeats, popping her gum. “some people use them for easier cleanup”

jackie stares, mute.

that earns her a glance. the woman raises an eyebrow, finally looking at her properly. “first time?”

“no,” she blurts, which is considerably the worst answer. now she sounds like someone who has done this before. her cheeks burn ten times hotter, and she wants to sink into the floor.

the cashier hums, entirely unfazed. “cool. you want a bag?”

jackie nods. she barely waits for her change before grabbing the bag and bolting for the door.

the box swings against her leg as she rushes through the parking lot, and she’s never been more aware of how much noise a small plastic bag can make.

jackie yanks the car door open, flings herself into the driver’s seat, and slams it shut behind her.

all week, jackie thinks about the second box under her bed.

when she was younger, it used to be monsters hiding down there that kept her up at night, forcing her to sleep with a nightlight on. the nightlight, she still has. the monsters, however, have been replaced by not one, but two very real things. except they’re sex toys. and jackie knows she’s being ridiculous.

for someone with self proclaimed little secrets, she’s got two of the physical kind, hidden beneath her bed frame like some dirty little proof of everything jackie swears she isn’t. one that she’s used, one that she hasn’t. one that she never even meant to buy still sits in its packaging, unopened, untouched yet there.

it wouldn’t be so bad if she could stop thinking about it.

even worse is that she can’t stop noticing you, now more than ever.

it’s one thing when you’re with her, just another mistake she can ignore in the morning. at practice, though, when you’re laughing with the rest of the team, smiling like you don’t have a single fucking thing to be ashamed of, it makes jackie feel sick with irritation.

why is it that your world keeps spinning, just like that, even when you’re harboring the exact same secrets? how do you live with all that?

jackie is so far gone in her own head that coach scott pulls her aside as the others run laps. “you need to focus,” he says. “you’re almost out of here. but as long as you’re still wearing that captain’s band, you have to show up. lead.”

jqckie nods, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. he’s right. she knows he’s right. she shouldn't be this distracted, especially not over a sex toy under her bed.

back in the locker room, still stewing in the embarrassment of it all, she thinks the shame might settle in for good.

then you’re there. laughing.

you and shauna are posted up by your lockers like it’s any other afternoon. you’re leaned against the bench, head tilted toward her as she says something jackie can’t make out over the noise. whatever it is, it makes you grin, wide and easy like nothing is off at all.

all’s normal. stupidly normal.

when the room finally clears, and it’s just the two of you left, she realizes her hand is still gripping the edge of the bench, her knuckles white with it.

you’re halfway into your jacket, arms sliding into the sleeves, as jackie finally speaks: “do you wanna come over?”

mid-movement, your eyes flick up to her in the mirror. “what?”

jackie slams her locker shut with more force than necessary, the metal clanging loud enough to make you flinch. she hoists her bag onto her shoulder without looking at you.

“jeff’s out with his friends,” she explains. “and my parents are gone for the weekend.” jackie fully turns to look at you. “figured we could...hang out.”

your brows draw together, visibly thrown. “well, that’s a first” you huff, pulling your jacket in place. “are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

jackie’s grits her teeth. “do you want to come over or not?”

“yeah,” you say, grabbing your bag. “yeah, sure”

in the end, that’s what makes the two of you so alike: for all the lines you draw, all the justifications you make, neither of you stays away for long.

the front door has barely clicked shut before her mouth is on yours.

not that you’re surprised. jackie was the one who invited you over, and it’s always like this anyway: rushed, her hands already gripping your waist before you have time to speak, her lips claiming yours like she’s trying to swallow all the words you might’ve said.

you don’t mind. at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. being jackie’s something is better than nothing.

even so, there’s a feeling you can’t shake. it starts as soon as you step inside and follows you up the stairs and into jackie’s room. her gaze never meets yours, and her hands, when she locks the door behind you, tremble.

you notice it even as your back meets the soft pillows on her bed, and her body presses down on you as jackie climbs on top.

jackie has never been as sure of herself as people might think, she simply knows how to fake it. a performance that's usually flawless seems to be cracking today.

the slide of her hands beneath your shirt pulls your attention back. her fingers move up your stomach, all the way until jackie’s palm is pressed to your breast, kneading softly. a sigh slips past your lips, unbidden and your hips lift, seeking friction, the pressure of her thigh between your legs enough to keep you chasing it.

you’re just starting to reach for her, fingers curling at the base of her neck, ready to tangle in her hair and pull her closer-

and then she stops.

you whine, breathless, trying to pull her back, as her hands fall from your body and her weight lifts off you. with your shirt still halfway pushed up your torso, you sit and watch jackie get to her feet, smoothing her hair back with both hands. “jackie?”

if this were about her not wanting to touch you, that would be something you could understand. it took her time to get comfortable being the one giving instead of just receiving, always insisting that as long as she wasn’t the one doing anything, it couldn’t be wrong. if she’d fallen back into that habit, it would be a sudden change, but one you could work with.

what doesn’t make sense is her endless silent treatment that stretches for days after each time you see her, and makes you wonder if you’ll ever hear from her again. it’s the emotional whiplash that leaves you reeling, not the physical pullback.

she still doesn’t speak. instead, she crosses to the foot of the bed, sinks to her knees, and starts reaching underneath.

“what are you doing?” you ask, scooting closer to watch.

no response.

a second later, jackie sits back on her heels, clutching something to her chest. it takes you a moment to register what you’re looking at, then you see the brand and the picture on the front. jackie, who’s still not speaking, shifts on her feet, her fingers curled so tensely around the edges that the cardboard bends.

“when- when did you get that?” you stammer.

“doesn’t matter,”

“do you even know how to use it?”

her head jerks up. “what kind of question is that?”

you hold up your hands. “i don’t know! i just-”

“i’ve seen jeff do it. it can’t be that hard if he figured it out.”

you gawk at her.

jackie groans and throws her head back. “you know what? forget it!” she mutters. “it was stupid, i don’t even know why- look, just forget i even-“

she moves to shove the box back under the bed, but you reach for her wrist before she can. “jackie,” you squeeze her. “it’s okay.”

she sighs, closing her eyes, her body relaxing under your touch. you take the box from her hands. “do you wanna…try it?”

jackie stays where she is, chewing her bottom lip raw.

“i can do it for you” you offer gently.

her eyes snap open, panicked. “no!”

you raise your eyebrows.

snatching the package from your hands, jackie clutches it as if you just threatened to take it away forever. “i mean-” she clears her throat, blinking rapidly. “no. i wanna- uh- i want to be the one to...put it on”

of all the things you’ve expected from jackie taylor, this wasn’t on the list. then again, you suppose it only makes sense, given her experiences with jeff. so, you nod. “okay.”

jackie eyes you, like she’s waiting for you to laugh or tease her, while you just offer a small smile. “let’s do it your way.”

she opens the box quickly, movements bordering on frantic, tearing through plastic and cardboard before she pulls the harness out and holds it awkwardly in both hands, flipping it back and forth.

“how the hell does this thing even-” jackie mumbles under her breath.

“here let me-”

“i got it,” she snaps, stepping back.

trying not to grin, you raise your hands in surrender. she huffs and glares down at the harness, fidgeting with the buckles. after another a minute of fumbling, stripping out of her pants and leaving her just in a lacy pair of panties, she finally gives up and thrusts it toward you. “fine. you do it.”

you smile, taking the harness. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“just- just shut up and help me!”

you kneel in front of her, the shift in position making jackie tense, like she’s only just realizing the implications of what she’s letting you do.

you don’t comment on it, your focus is on the harness, adjusting the straps, tightening the buckles, testing the give. the leather is still a little stiff from being new, but it’ll mold to her.

above you, jackie stands still while you tug the straps into place, fingers brushing against the smooth skin of her thighs.

“okay,” you say, giving the waistband one final pull. “step in.”

she hesitates, then does as you say, her movements awkward while she lifts one leg after the other. making quick work of it, you secure the straps around her hips to sit snug at her waist. once you’ve smoothed the last buckle into place, you glance up.

“comfortable?”

jackie swallows, nodding once. “yeah, i think so,”

the harness is a nice fit now, the leather settling against the soft fabric of her underwear. the only thing missing is…

you both look down at the same time.

the dildo still sits in the box.

out of the corner of your eye, you catch the flush spreading up to her ears.

“jesus,” she mutters under her breath, eyes darting everywhere but the smooth, silicone shape she picked out in a moment of jealousy and impulse.

“you, uh…wanna do the honors?”

“you do it already!”

carefully, you remove the toy from the packaging, holding it steady as you maneuver it into place. jackie watches with a mix of concentration and poorly concealed mortification as you make sure it sits properly like the rest of the harness.

when that is done, you sit back. “well?”

jackie looks down at herself. then at you. then back at herself.

“oh,” she says, voice a little higher than usual.

“oh?”

she shifts again, adjusting her stance to test how it feels. “it’s just…a lot”

“yeah. it usually is.”

“this is so fucking…stupid”

from below, you tilt your head. “is it?”

before blurting the agreement that already sits at the tip of her tongue, jackie hesitates.

earlier, it was awkward adjustments and stubborn determination. now she’s standing above you, a little embarrassed, but taller than she’s ever felt. and you’re still kneeling in front of her, hands resting on her hips. you haven’t let go.

the energy shifts, all the teasing fading. awareness settles in between you.

you don’t move. neither does she.

jackie’s pulse pounds against her throat, and you see the moment it hits her, the moment she realizes just how much this has changed things.

with a force that’ll later disgust her, she understands why jeff loves it when she does this for him. the view from above, with you at her feet, is one she’s already trying to commit to memory.

“h-holy shit-“ she croaks. her hand falls into your hair before she can gain enough self-control to hold herself together.

just when jackie thinks it couldn’t possibly get any better than this, you lean in and your lips brush the silicone.

it’s not real. she knows that. she knows she can’t feel your mouth on it, not in any physical way. the sight of you, though, the heat in your eyes, nearly doubles her over.

you close your lips around the tip, suck gently, and jackie forgets how to breathe.

this isn’t what it’s like with jeff. with him, she plays her part; responsive, sweet, makes the right noises and faces. she’s never been sure if it’s what she wants or just what she thinks she should want.

now, her mouth hangs open without her telling it to, and she doesn’t need to remind herself to make those gasping sounds. they come to her naturally, without even feeling the sucking of your lips and the press of your tongue against the base of the toy.

it’s strange, and new, and completely outside the lines she’s always drawn for herself.

jackie never thought she’d be in this position, not metaphorically and certainly not literally; however, now that she is, she’s realizing something else: she likes it.

she likes how you look kneeling for her, lips swollen, eyes wide, the faintest sheen of spit where your mouth are wrapped around her.

she never had this kind of power over anything. always someone’s daughter, someone’s girlfriend, someone’s idea of the good girl.

this? this is only hers.

the power of it makes jackie dizzy.

you must see it flicker across her face, the uncertainty laced under the awe, because you lean in and press a soft kiss just under the ridge. your tongue follows. “you’re doing fine,” you whisper. “you’re allowed to like this.”

her hands settle on your shoulders. “i don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t have to know. you just feel it.”

so she lets you take your time, lets you lead. with each slow bob of your head, each pass of your tongue along the shaft, that tension starts to ease from her posture. jackie’s hands slide back into your hair, and her breathing goes ragged.

by the time the full length glistens with your spit, she’s shaking all over.

her need rises beneath her careful touch, and she urges you back with a gentle pull at your scalp. when your mouth releases her with a wet pop, she lets out a sound that lands somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

jackie could arguably watch you suck her off for hours if you’d let her, but there’s something else she needs more than that, more than your mouth.

“come here,” she whispers.

immediately, you comply. as soon as you’re close enough, her hands find your waist and pull you in. you stumble a little and end up with your hands braced on her shoulders. jackie steadies you, her thumbs pressing against your hipbones.

as you lean in to kiss her, your breath mingles in the little space left between you.

the kiss is softer than either of you expected; a slow collision, so unlike all your previous encounters, less urgency, somehow.

it’s not just the nerves, it’s just new. new because of what’s between you, attached to jackie’s hips.

you shift against her and the silicone tip digs into your thigh. jackie makes a surprised sound. “this is…gonna take some adjusting,” you murmur against her kiss-swollen lips.

“yeah,” she agrees, nose brushing yours. you kiss the corner of her mouth and stumble toward the bed, neither of you quite sure how to move with this new thing between you.

she bumps her knee against the frame, and you both laugh, a tangle of limbs and awkward angles until your bodies slide together in a way that works.

there’s a pause. a breath. her hands on your waist, yours against her back.

and then jackie shifts beneath you, settling into the sheets, and it makes sense.

“okay,” she says softly and kisses you again. her hands travel up your sides, pausing at the hem of your shirt. a quick nod against her mouth is all the confirmation she needs to peel the fabric upward, knuckles skimming your ribs.

“can i-” she starts.

“yeah,” you breathe. “you can.”

she lifts it over your head. when it catches at your elbows, you help, and when it’s off, she just stares. reaching for her hand, you press it over your ribcage to let her feel your breath steadying there.

“see?” you whisper. “still me”

jackie’s thumb strokes over your skin in response, and her eyes meet yours. “you make this way too easy,”

“you make it way too complicated,” you counter gently, smiling. that earns you another kiss, deeper this time, a little more sure.

it has a tenderness to it that you once wished your first time had: jackie is looking at you like she’s never seen your body before and is only now realizing it’s yours, not something made available for her sake.

her hands trail over your bare skin, gradually revealing more of it as she strips you out of your pants and bra.

she doesn't seem uncertain of what she wants, but for once afraid of touching something she's not sure she deserves. that, in itself, is a kind of permission you didn’t expect to grant her, offering yourself up to someone who’s never been taught how to take. jackie is learning. she’s figuring it out, still trying to reconcile the softness of the moment with the hard weight strapped to her hips.

“i don’t wanna hurt you,” she admits.

“you won’t,” besides, she has done worse with the countless times she pushed you away and kicked you out. this can hardly hurt more than jackie’s rejection.

she lets her hand settle between your thighs, testing the distance with her fingers and feeling, with a sudden intake of breath, the wetness pooling there.

“jackie, it’s okay,” you shudder, feeling the slide of her digits through your folds.

the harness presses into her hips when she shifts between your legs, silicone nudging your thigh as she adjusts. her breathing is uneven all over again.

with a hand on her waist, you guide her, fingers anchoring her through the nerves to finally press forward.

jackie doesn’t thrust so much as ease, bit by bit, gathering arousal on the toy until she’s pushing in with all the caution she can muster, watching your face the whole time. when the tip slides inside, both of you stop.

you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you adjust to the stretch.

jackie doesn't move. “are you sure this is…?”

you nod. “yeah.”

“okay.” she doesn’t sound convinced, but she’s trying. trying so hard not to let go too fast and become the thing she’s always been wary of. it’s strange how carefully she holds herself still once she’s inside you, so different from the jackie you thought you knew.

her hands are planted in the mattress next to your shoulders, attentively searching your face for signs she should stop or do something better.

you reach up and cup her cheek. “you’re- fuck- doing really good.”

without thinking, her hips push the strap all the way into you. between your bodies, your legs wind around her hips to pull her closer.

that undoes her a little.

jackie’s mouth parts, and she makes a sound you’ve never heard from her before. she presses forward again, a little deeper, her rhythm unsteady, but improving. the slide of her hips is still too careful, you can feel the tension in her, no longer nervous but restrained.

you whisper, voice low against her mouth, “you can move, jackie”

she swallows. “i don’t wanna, like…ruin it.”

“you won’t.” you kiss her. “i want this. i want you.” and, because you feel like you might actually lose it if she doesn't properly fuck you, you add: “fuck me, jackie”

when she braces herself to move again, it’s with the certainty you’d hoped for, followed by a proper thrust. your body welcomes the motion, your head tipping back with a low moan that you don’t bother holding back. it shatters whatever was left of jackie’s hesitation.

you're not only enduring it, she realizes, you're meeting her, body to body. your back arches, nails pressing into her skin, and your legs lock firmer around her waist to keep her near and buried to the hilt.

on every thrust, you pull her in closer, and every breathless sound you make is another piece of proof she didn’t even know she needed that she’s capable of giving something that feels good. you want this with her, and it’s written all over your body.

jackie’s motions grow more confidently, still learning the mechanics, yet no longer afraid to hurt you. she can hear how wet you are around the toy, and feels your walls tightening as if your cunt is trying to suck her in deeper.

she pulls back, thrusts in again, and you gasp her name into the hollow of her throat.

she’s fucking you slow and steady, your body rising from the sheets to meet hers, your hands running up her back and resting at her shoulders.

“god-” she whispers, breathless already, “you’re really into this.”

you laugh softly. “took you long enough to notice.”

jackie bites her lip, her pace picking up. she’s watching you closely, taking her cues from the little noise you makes when she hits just the right angle.

when you lean up and murmur against her mouth, “you can go harder,” she falters.

“are you- are you sure?”

“jackie-” you try to say flatly, though your breath hitches and the words morph into a gasp when her tip hits your g-spot from that angle again. “fuck me harder”

your moan vibrates through her in response to her allowing herself to let loose like you seemingly want her to. her hands grip your waist, her hips snap forward in slow, rolling waves, and you take her every time, eyes rolling back.

“yeah?” she murmurs, hypnotized by the sound of her name falling from your lips. “you like being fucked like this?”

the second it slips out, jackie instantly freezes. it hits her like a slap, his voice, not hers. that cadence, that phrasing. she can hear jeff in it, that cocky lilt he used every time he thought he was doing something impressive.

she cringes inwardly, lips pressing tight, momentum stuttering.

god, what was that?

she’s about to apologize, maybe even pull out, when she hears you. “fuck, jackie,” you breathe. “yes. i do. just like that, please-”

jackie blinks. you don’t look like you heard a recycled line from a man who never made her feel like she was worth saying it to. she said it, and even if it was clumsy, even if it came from somewhere borrowed, you still wanted it from her.

your hips lift to fuck yourself on the strap, encouraging her.

“yeah?” she asks. her voice lacks his arrogance now, only genuine curiosity remaining.

you nod. “say it again.”

she tries, “you like how deep i’m- i’m fucking you?"

your whole body tenses, and your answer comes in the form of a broken moan.

she moves again, snapping forward with purpose and you gasp with your head thrown back. “fuck- oh my god, jackie-”

jackie uses words again, this time her own. “you look so fucking good like this,” she pants, pushing slow and deep, grinding into you. “you’re taking me so well.”

you keen beneath her and the sound goes straight to her clit, where the harness is rubbing against her.

“god,” she groans, ducking her head down to kiss your neck. “you’re so hot when you’re like this. you- you feel so good.”

she doesn’t care that she can’t feel it the way jeff did. this is better anyway, and even though jackie wishes she could feel your cunt convulsing around her, the sight of you taking her makes up for the lack of physical sensation.

besides, she feels it everywhere else. if not with a real cock, there's still the press of your skin, the wet heat between your thighs that makes obscene sounds every time she bottoms out and how you pull her in with your legs and your hands and your voice. she feels it in how alive she is in this moment, how present, how impossibly wanted.

it’s not a performance anymore.

she can tell you’re getting close, body clinging to hers with every instinct trying to pull her in deeper, to have her somewhere she’s never reached before.

jackie knows what usually happens, how it goes when he is close. he gets louder, messier, and more possessive. he finishes fast, then detaches faster.

you’re nothing like that. your hands move over her arms, her back, pleasure depending on her.

you’re not quite there yet and she leans over you, arms braced beside your head, searching for that angle. you gasp when she finds it, ankles tightening around her waist.

“there?” jackie breathes.

you nod, speechless, and she repeats the motion.

and, because she knows that alone wouldn't be enough for her, one hand slips between your bodies. she finds your clit with ease, swollen and stiff underneath the pad of her index and middlefinger. the ragged moan it tears from you is something she’ll replay in her head for weeks.

jackie moves in circles, matching the rhythm of her thrusts. she kisses your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, breathing you in. “you can come,” she murmurs against your skin. “i’ve got you.”

your hips start to stutter, as if you were waiting for permission, gripping her like you’ll fall apart without her there. jackie doesn’t let up. she stays with you, moves with you, until...

“jackie!”

your whole body tenses, then trembles, muscles tightening, and jackie feels the moment you fall over the edge. your mouth parts in a silent cry and your cunt clenches around the strap.

she stills inside you, letting you ride it out, her fingers softening their rhythm until they’re barely brushing over you.

you’re boneless under her now, flushed and gasping and shaking faintly, and jackie can only stare.

you’re beautiful.

she did that.

your eyes flutter closed for a second, barely enough to recover. then, slowly, your body starts to move. you’re still breathing hard when you push yourself up on shaky elbows, trying to catch your breath as your gaze sweeps the room, landing on your shirt where it’s crumpled on the floor.

it shouldn’t surprise her, this is how it always goes. you hook up, and then she tells you to leave.

except that, this time, she didn’t say anything. she didn’t push you away, didn’t put her wall back up. yet here you are, pulling your shirt into your lap, preparing to go like you’ve already been dismissed.

what does that say about her?

“where are you going?”

you turn to look at her, shirt bunched between your fingers. “i thought-” you blink. “i mean, i figured you were gonna…you know?”

“kick you out?” jackie finishes. for the first time, she hates how bitter it sounds. she looks away, her hair falling into her face as she leans back. “my parents are out of town,” she reminds you after a beat. “gone for the weekend.”

“…okay?”

jackie shrugs a little harder. maybe if she moves enough, it’ll disguise the fact that she doesn’t know how to ask. “so. you can stay.”

it’s the best she can do.

you set your clothes down, then slowly reach for the blanket and pull it up over yourself again. you lie back without saying anything more, body settling into the mattress beside hers.

once jackie dares to glance over, you’re by her side, breathing beginning to even out. still close. still warm. still here.

her hand drifts to the space between you, fingers inching forward until her palm rests open on the mattress.

neither of you speaks. neither of you looks.

when your hand finds hers, your fingers brushing gently before lacing together, jackie doesn’t pull away.

[berritart]

thinking abt phone sex with abbyyyy #plz

abby could hear your hitched breathing through the phone, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

you were a mess, and she wish she could see how you were right now. the bottom hem of your nightgown held high up by your teeth, your fingers tracing over your clit through your panties. it was definitely a sight.

"need you abby..." you whined through the phone, wanting nothing more than to have your girlfriend between your legs. it was definitely ovulation time for you. you're usually horny but you would always handle it yourself. you never got to the point where you would have to call your girlfriend to get off, especially this early in the morning. it was only 10 am.

"what do you need me to do baby?" she asked, closing her journal. she got up from her desk and got in bed. she wanted all her attention on you, deciding to cut her study session short.

"just talk to me." you slip your hand under your panties, your cold fingers causing you to whimper in your phone. your noises were fucking with abby already. she wishes she was tongue deep in your cunt right now, making her girl feel good. unfortunately the snow gotten worse overnight and the roads unsafe to drive on. the weather was keeping a barrier between you two.

"what's going on in that pretty little head of yours right now?" abby whispers, unbuttoning her jeans. she began playing with the waistband of her boxers, craving a response from you. she waited, only hearing whines full of need. "c'mon baby tell me."

"t-thinking about your fingers..." you draw circles against your clit, jolting from the contact. "how thick they a-are..." you could literally hear abby grinning on the other side of the phone, enjoying every second of your phone call.

abby felt the warmth in the pit of her stomach get worse. she was so close to becoming the state you're in but it's all about you right now. she could hold off for a bit longer but her sweet thing can't. "and what else angel?" you mewl at the pet name, plus the feeling of your finger slipping inside your pussy. it was too much to handle, your teeth basically chewing off your bottom lip. you needed your girlfriend bad.

you lean the phone against your ear, your hand now groping on your tits through the fabric. "mmm... 'n h-how they reach all the right spots..." you gasp, your pointer and thumb pinching your sensitive nipple. "s'much better than mines."

"you wanna know what i'm thinking?" abby says lowly as she palms herself through her boxers. "'m s-so close baby." you borderline wail, your movements getting sloppier and sloppier. "im thinking about having that pretty pussy rocking back and forth on my tongue." abby's hand picks up the pace, her mouth holding back a whimper. "then when she's ready, when i think she's ready, i'll fuck her nice and slow on my strap. how's that sound sweet girl?"

"s-so so good- fuckfuckfuck i'm cumming." your fingers curl in your sopping cunt before pulling out. your climax washes over you violently, your moans and abby's name being suffocated by your pillow.

"there we go...good girl." abby praises, pulling her hand from her boxers and jeans. you try and catch your breath, hard breathing traveling through to the other line. "miss you so bad abby..."

abby checks the state outside, the sun slowly but surely coming out to melt the thick inches of snow. it was definitely going to take a while for all the snow to melt but for abby? at this rate?

"don't worry baby i'll be there soon."

[justmymindandstuff]

Would thou spare a mere peasant a moment??

Imagine Targ!reader visiting the wall with Cregan (similar moment he had with Jace, and maybe Jace is there too, it’s up to you)

And reader forces her dragon to go beyond the wall by jumping off the top of it

I’ll leave the rest to you 😚❤️

jump scare - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

summary: you and your twin Jacaerys follow Cregans invitation to the wall. As your Dragon refused to fly over the wall he sees a glimps of your temper. At that moment he knows that you, as the future Lady Stark, will bring trouble into Winterfells halls.

words: 2.691

warnings: kissing, Cregan has a crush (but he doesn´t know it)

a/n: Reader is Rhaenyras daughter and described with black hair and purple eyes// no use of Y/N// English is not my first language // not proofread // AO3

I love this idea so much, soo thank you anon🧡, but I had a hard time writing this, so it´s a bit short and I not completely like how it came out (edit: you can read part 2 here)

anyways I hope you like it.

Have fun and be kind 🧡

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

Cregan shifts from one foot to the other as the elevator slowly jerks up the Wall. The brothers of the Night's Watch and Castle Black grow smaller beneath him. His breath forms white clouds in the cold air. The Warden of the North tries to get rid of his inner restlessness. He wishes the elevator would go faster, while at the same time hoping this ride would never end.

At the top of the wall, he will soon meet the Prince and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms again, of course with their two dragons.

Jacaerys and you landed in Winterfell's courtyard a few days ago with Vermax and Veraxes. And you brought war with you. At the thought, Cregan's insides twist.

Jacaerys made him an offer on behalf of his mother: Cregan and his men would ride south for the queen and support her claim, in exchange for a marriage with the princess. Rhaenyra Targaryen gives him her only daughter as a wife.

Cregan knows he can't refuse such an offer. Nobody turn down a Targaryen offer.

And he could have done worse.

He doesn't like the thought, but he knows he could have done worse. His future wife is beautiful. Long black hair that stands in stark contrast to your pale skin, delicate features, and those sparkling eyes. There is something in it, Cregan can't quite put his finger on it yet. You have a fire, a wildness behind your eyes that Cregan has never seen before.

A woman like you is actually worth his entire army. Cregan would theoretically have to arm every man, woman, and child in the North and send them south to redeem his debt.

But he can't.

He can only send 2,000 men, Greybeards. Cregan cannot spare more, he needs his men here for the coming winter. And like his House words are saying: winter is coming.

That's the reason why you are here, that's the reason for Cregan's invitation to the Wall. You and your brother need to understand why he can't send more men. You both need to see it. Before Cregan takes you as his wife in a few days at Goodswood of Winterfell and thus seals the pact of ice and fire.

"It is an honor for me to be able to fulfill my duty, and Winterfell is very beautiful. I look forward to making it my home."

More than that, you haven't said about your marriage. Cregan doesn't know if you really mean it or if you have memorized these words, because your mother told you so. He hopes you meant it.

He can't figure you out. In the past few days, Cregan was able to spend a little time with you, but he hasn't really gotten to know you yet. Also because Jacaerys was present at each of your meetings, of course Cregan would never do anything that would endanger your honor and reputation. He is a Stark, a man of honor. That's why you two always have your brother as achaperone.

What Cregan has learned in the short time is that you are definitely not a little princess who needs to be rescued from a tower.

You train with swords, fly almost daily on your dragon, can curse like a sailor, and are not too shy to give your brother a piece of your mind everytime he gets on your nerves.

On the other hand, you have a razor-sharp mind, smile kindly at Cregan, dance skillfully and make every move with an elegance that only a Targaryen princess possesses.

You attract him like light attracts a moth. Your attractiveness has captured him, and the fragments of your being that you show him only make him more curious about the rest. He wants to get to know you, everything about you. Cregan can hardly think of you without his thoughts and feelings swirling around inside him like a storm.

A loud crack next to him makes the Warden of the North flinch and snaps him out of his thoughts. Cregan looks to the side. Veraxes slams his claws into the ice of the Wall with full force, her body crashs against it, and the Wall seems to tremble under the impact. Cregan hears you curse loudly in a foreign language, high valyrian, he is sure. Jacaerys' laughter rings out above him and Vermax flies over him before the dragon lands on the wall, noticeably gentler than Veraxes.

Cregan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. He pushes all thoughts of you and your future marriage aside. One step at a time. First he must show you what the Night's Watch and House Stark do for centuries, protecting the realm before the dangers beyond the Wall.

The elevator stops at the top, the doors open. Cregan allows himself two more heartbeats to gather himself, then steps outside onto the Wall.

Immediately, the cold wind whips around his ears, but apart from a brief shiver it doesn´t bothered him.

Veraxes climbs the Wall, her claws break off large pieces of ice that fall down. Cregan hopes that no one gets hit. You and your dragon arrive at the top and you place Veraxes next to Vermax. You slide down her wing and land next to your twin brother, snow swirling around your boots.

Cregan's gaze shifts from you to the dragons. Vermax and Veraxes, twin dragons you told him on the first evening, both dragons hatched from the eggs in you and your brothers cribs.

The dragons make whistling sounds, turning their heads. They seem nervous. The young Lord finds his own thoughts ridiculous in the next moment. What could possibly make dragons nervous?

Cregan has to swallow and takes the last steps towards his royal guests. The siblings are completely engrossed in their usual bickering.

"I told you she wouldn't fly over." laughs Jacaerys, you jab him in the stomach and then jump two steps to the side so his counterattack doesn't hit you.

"She'll do it." you say as you look over the edge of the Wall.

"Please don't go so close to the edge." the prince's voice sounds alarmed.

"Don't be such a coward, Jacey."

"Don't call me that. I'm not a little kid anymore." the prince snaps.

"Then don't act like one." you say dry and still don't take a step away from the edge. On the contrary, you push your feet a little closer to the edge, the tips of your boots no longer have any grip.

Cregan cleared his throat to get your attention. "My Lady, your brother is right. You shouldn't stand so close to the edge of the wall."

You tilt your head slightly, a hint of a smile dancing on your full lips. "Good thing you'll only be my husband in three days My Lord and only then you can give me orders." you say, your cheerful tone doesn´t match your bitter words.

Cregan feels as if you had hit him in the stomach and looks helplessly at Jacaerys, but he just shrugs and gives him an apologetic smile.

Suddenly, the dragons move. Cregan manages at the last second to prevent himself from flinching as Vermax's claw strikes the ice beside him. The dragons make whistling noises again, Veraxes restlessly lashes her tail back and forth.

Cregan looks at the twins. "Is something wrong with them?" he can't manage to suppress the concern in his voice.

You look at him, smile again as if your last comment had never been made. "Do you know the story of Queen Alysanne Targaryen?" you ask instead of answering.

Cregan tries not to show his confusion about your behavior and nods. Everyone knows the story: The queen wanted to fly over the wall with her dragon, the dragon refused. That has never happened before.

"My dearest sister here thought she was better than Queen Alysanne and wanted to fly Veraxes over the Wall."

"I didn't think I´m better than Queen Alysanne." you interrupt your brother, but he simply ignores you. The prince turns directly to Cregan.

"You saw how well the attempt worked."

Cregan furrows his brow. "So the dragons refuse to fly over the Wall?" he asks just to be sure.

"Obviously. They don't like it here." you say, again your gaze goes over the edge downwards. "7000 feet, right?"

"Yes, My Lady," Cregan confirms. He doesn't know if his uneasy feeling comes from the fact that you are half leaning over the edge of the Wall or from the fact that the dragons refuse to fly over it. It doesn't matter right know. The young Lord has to swallow and suppress the urge to go to you and pull you away from the wall.

The dragons also lean further forward, but their noses never go beyond the edge of the Wall. You and Jace watch your monsters closely as they move. While Jacaerys looks worried, you are curious.

Cregan seizes the moment and looks at you. The winter sun shines on you, makes you glow, and gets caught in your dark braids. Your cheeks and nose are slightly reddened from the cold up here. Cregan's fingertips tingle slightl as the desire arises to caress the soft skin of your cheek.

Would you lean into his touch? Or slap his hand away? Cregan has no idea, but he's eager to find out. Again, he has to pull himself together to come back into the moment. Again, he reminds himself: one step at a time.

"Forget it, sister. Silverwing didn't fly over the Wall, Veraxes will do it neither." Jacaerys sounds annoyed. Cregan sees out of the corner of his eye as he shifts his weight slightly forward, ready to catch you if you trip.

"Just because you can't get Vermax to do it." you say, the challenge clear in your tone and the way your eyes sparkle. Cregan has the feeling that you are hatching something, and the way your gaze goes from him to your brother tells him that it won't be anything good.

"Veraxes won't fly over it either." Jacaerys insists.

A mischievous grin appears on your face, your intentions now clearly visible. "Bet?" you ask, turning to your brother. You say something in high valyrian that Cregan doesn't understand.

The next second you wink at him, spread your arms and let yourself fall backward from the Wall.

Cregan's heart stops for a moment, Jacaerys calls your name, his voice trembling. Both men run forward, but of course, neither of them manages to hold onto you anymore. Cregan looks over the edge and sees you falling quickly. His entire body tenses up in fear. Not only is he watching you fall to your own death, but it's happening under his watch as well. The Dragon Queen would probably turn the entire North to ashes if she hears that her only daughter has met her end in the North.

And he would never hear your melodic laughter again, Cregan immediately gets annoyed by this inappropriate thought.

Suddenly, he is caught by a gust of wind and almost falls off the wall himself as Veraxes flies just a few centimeters past him and throws himself after you. The dragon lets out a cry that sounds angry and desperate. The sound reminds Cregan of a mother weeping for her frozen baby.

"I'll kill her." Jacaerys murmurs quietly next to Cregan as they watch your dragon catch up with you, fly under you, so you land on her saddle. Cregan is sure that must have hurt.

Veraxes spreads her wings and catches her fall, the Lord of Winterfell isn't quite sure how much space there is left to the ground but from up here it doesn't look like much.

He has to take a deep breath, relief flooding through him. Thank the gods you're not dead.

You turn your dragon vertically and fly steeply up the wall. As you shoot past Cregan, he flinches a step back but can't take his eyes off you.

You throw your head back and laugh a loud, joyful laugh. The wind tousles your braids, and the winter sun makes your eyes sparkle. And there it is again, that freedom, that wildness in your gaze. Cregan's heart skips a beat at the sight. By all the gods, he knows in that moment that you are fearless, maybe a little insane, but definitely fearless. You will fit well in the North, you will fit well with him.

Cregan is impressed, he can't help but stare at and admire you as you let your Dragon land right next to Cregan at the edge of the wall. You are still laughing.

Veraxes stands so close that the sulfur smell rises to his nose and he feels the warmth of the dragon. Your dragon blows hot air from its nostrils, accompanied by a rumbling noise from its throat that makes Cregan's neck hairs stand on end. Her tail crashes against the ice on the other side, causing the ice under his feets to tremble. You are sitting on her back and sticking your tongue out at your twin.

"I told you so." you say, still laughing at Jacaerys and his shocked face.

"I swear to you if mother..." begins the prunce, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.

"You're just angry because you lost the bet." you say. "And besides, in a few days I won't be Mother's concern anymore."

Jacaerys opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes from his throat. Then he looks at Cregan, and his neck turns slightly red.

"My Lord future husband." you break the silence with a gentle voice, and Cregan immediately turns to you. "A helping hand?"

His feelings are completely mixed up, still he steps closer to Veraxes without thinking, extends his hand to you and helps you dismount from your dragon. Even though you all know that you don't need help.

You land right in front of him, so close that he can make out the different shades of purple in your eyes. Your pleasant scent envelops him, for two heartbeats Cregan forgets everything around you. He recognizes that wild sparkle in your eyes again, and before he can react you stand on your tiptoes place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. When your lips meet, the brief moment of surprise is dispelled by a hot shiver that runs through his body. Instinctively, his hand reaches for your hip and he pulls you closer to him. Your soft lips move perfectly against his, and his heart begins to beat faster at the sensation.

You part breathlessly from each other, for a brief moment you look deeply into his eyes. A smile dances around your lips. Cregans can't help but smile with you, this time it's him who winks. He is rewarded with a radiant smile from you. Cregan blinks, and the moment is gone.

While you turn back to your brother, Cregan has to take a deep breath to calm his heartbeat.

"Brother. It was nice to beat you again." you spit at Jacaerys and lift your chin. But when you turn back to Cregan there is a soft smile on your face, which makes his heart stumble again. "My Lord. Please excuse me. I want to look at the rest of the Wall." you nod to him and then turn away.

The Lord of Winterfell can do nothing but stare after you as you walk along the wall. You don't even have to call Veraxes, she takes off again and flies north of the Wall beside you.

Cregan looks at the prince again, fearing for a heartbeat that Jacaerys will now burn him with Vermax. After all, Cregan has dishonored his sister.

The prince, however, appears more annoyed than angry. Jacaerys bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head slightly. "Good luck with her, Lord Stark. She only causes headaches." he says then.

"Aye, probably." says Cregan, but can't suppress a grin. Yes, you mean trouble, but Cregan is ready for this journey. He is looking forward to it.

part 2

[bamgyw]

˖°𖡼.𖤣𖥧 little red riding hood 𖥧𖤣.𖡼°˖

summary: afab!reader x werewolf!beomgyu just as little red riding hood entered the woods, a wolf met her. little red riding hood did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him. little red riding hood modern [smut] retelling.

warnings: little plot, lot of smut at the end. fingering, biting, sucking, they fuck in the forest? dub-con. definitely not as pretentious and cheaper than six nights.

word count: 6,5k

rey yaps: rey comeback. yay. as you can see, this is not the six night update. i am so very sorry. if you don't like it, i did it on purpose. it's camp. happy halloween. 

once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by everyone who looked at her. whenever the wind whistled she wore a warm, scarlet cloak, so she was always called little red riding hood.

the window’s open just enough for the wind to slip through and moan against the narrow slit. its sighs blend with the creeping chill of autumn nights, making it too easy for her to ignore the other sound—the low, mournful howl of the wolf stalking just beyond the trees. waiting. starving.

but inside—warm, cozy, oblivious—she’s giddy, caught up in the process of getting dolled up. the vanity of the pre-party ritual. halloween night, or the night to honor the ancestors' harvest festival by dressing like an unapologetic slut.

she leans in closer to the mirror, dragging the eyeliner brush across her eyelid. the black ink smudges into a sultry, careless flick.

her reflection stares back—rosy cheeks, fox like eyes, lips twitching into a smirk as she perfects her look. red little riding hood. she’s got that ominous, almost brilliant look of blood on snow; hair like lint, cheeks tinted a synthetic red, lips red like wine.

outside, the darkness gathers thick. that part of town—the forgotten edge where the trees grow too tall, too twisted, their branches clawing at the sky—has a reputation. by day, the leaves rustle with tiny, cheerful birds. but by nightfall the trees bend into shapes that shouldn’t exist, and the black between them isn’t just dark. it’s hungry.

she doesn’t care. not tonight. she’s excited.

she’s got a boyfriend, and she adores him in that hopeless, foolish way. taehyun—so princely, so mature, so different from any other boy she’s ever known. just the thought of him sends a flutter through her stomach.

but her excitement falters, her hand with the eyeliner brush pausing mid-stroke.

for quite some time now, she’s had the gnawing feeling that taehyun doesn’t like her anymore. he's distant. cold. the hunger in his eyes has dulled into something worse than disinterest. he doesn’t kiss her the same, doesn’t touch her like he used to. the golden glint of lust she once saw in his gaze is now replaced by dull apathy. 

but not tonight. tonight, she’s going to fix that.

she has gotten herself a ridiculous little dress, so charming and frilly that it would drive any boy insane. a costume meant for a twelve-year-old, that should stretch over her curves and frame her just so. a skirt that's more like a belt made of little ruffles, barely brushing the tops of her thighs. puffed sleeves, and a corset cinched tight enough to steal her breath—she doesn’t care. she’s pulling the hunger back into her boyfriend's eyes.

the cheap red costume lays across the tub, a mess of fabric that’ll turn her into something untouchable. a gift for him, draped in lace and bows. she shrugs off her bathrobe, careful to close the door but leaving the curtains wide open. why bother? what harm could come from the empty wilds?

in a deep red bra and panties that cling like fresh blood to bare skin, the fabric is thin, barely there, a gauze that the cool night air slices through. the chill raises goosebumps, and her nipples harden beneath the lace, two sharp peaks straining against the sheer veil.

somewhere in the woods, the wolf is watching. 

she notices her own reflection and pauses, taking in how her body looks under the dim light. the slight tremble of her chest, the rosy peaks beneath the lace. her breath catches in her throat as she runs a hand over her stomach, feeling the curve of her waist. 

somewhere in the woods, the wolf starts salivating.

she has drowned in self-loathing lately. the boy she loves has been treating her like she’s nothing. she’s felt like nothing. but tonight —must be the witches, the spirits and the ghosts— she feels pretty.

the wolf thinks she’s pretty too. he has spotted a tender, plump mouthful, and hunger is curling in his belly. he can’t hold back anymore, and his howl cuts through the silence—sharp, hollow, vicious. and the wolfsong is a warning. the sound of death by the window.

she freezes. a chill creeps down her spine, not from the cold, but from something primal. she holds her breath, listening. and then she hears it—a soft, distant inhale. a wet and heavy breathing. not hers. human, but not quite.

her head snaps toward the window, eyes wide. there, in the darkness, something moves. no, someone moves. two glowing yellow lights. embers, burning. they don’t blink. they just… watch.

she pulls the drapes shut, heart racing, forcing a grin. halloween, she thinks. just some asshole playing a prank. a cheap, silly trick.

somewhere in the woods, the wolf smiles.

just as little red riding hood entered the wood, a wolf met her. little red riding hood did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.

"just go from streetlight to streetlight," she tells herself. 

focus. one light. two. a quick breath of safety before plunging into the next stretch of black. the cold night air curls around her, prickling her skin like needles.

her little red heels click against the uneven pavement, the sound echoing in the stillness. for a moment, she feels that gnawing, unshakable sense that she's not alone. but she shrugs it off, laughs under her breath, calling it paranoia.

the road ahead glimmers beneath a blanket of fallen leaves, slick and shimmering in the muted glow. on either side, the dense, impenetrable forest looms—a thick monster of dark green and black, framing her path to the party.

above, the moon, full and obscene, watches her like a voyeur. all still. all quiet.

except, that is, for the rustling of leaves beneath the predator’s steps. the wolf moves with ease, slipping behind her unnoticed, eyes on her legs as they sway, hungry. 

this is his territory. she just doesn’t know it yet.

tucked inside her little basket—a cute part of the costume she’s rebranded as a purse,—there’s a small pocket knife. mom’s voice echoes in her head: “you never know what's lurking out there, darling.”

however, no amount of steel could cut through the one rule. the rule older than the trees that lined this cursed path. in the history of women walking alone at night—never, ever make eye contact.

so when she sees the shadow up ahead—thin, crooked, leaning against a lamppost with a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips—her heart does what it must. it kicks into overdrive.

head up. eyes forward. don’t let him know you're aware of his existence. her fingers tighten around the basket’s handle, knuckles turning white. it’s fine, she lies to herself. just keep walking.

one meter.

he tilts his head slightly, tracking her as she nears, but doesn’t move. her heels click louder now, faster, echoing hollow.

two meters.

close enough to smell the smoke curling from his cigarette. her skin crawls, but she doesn’t falter. just a few more steps and he’ll be behind her, another shadow, another forgotten threat. she feels a sudden, punctuating cold down her neck, but she barely pays attention to it.

three meters.

she passes him, breath held, heart pounding. it's done, she's safe. her fear was stupid, it always is. then it happens—a hand, cold and solid, lands on her shoulder.

her stomach drops. she spins, ready to scream or run, but the words die on her lips when she sees him.

a beautiful boy, just—beautiful.

dark, untamed. his hair’s a mess, falling over his forehead, deep brown eyes glowing like embers. flannel over a ragged band tee, the faint scent of smoke and damp leaves hangs around him.

“you dropped this.” his voice is low, nearly a growl, as he holds out her little red hood. it must’ve fallen when she rushed past.

“o-oh.” she stammers, half breathless, “thanks. i didn’t even realize.”

as she takes it from him, his gaze lingers for too long, making her hyper-aware of the way the dress clings to her body.

“pretty…” he says, the word half-whispered. a slight and wicked smirk touches his lips, like he knows he can degrade the costume and the girl beneath with just a single look.

a shiver races down her spine, but she forces a smile. “t-thanks.”

his eyes drag up and down her body, slow, making sure she notices. heat blooms in her neck, unbidden, and she tells herself—this dress is for taehyun, not for some stranger who smells like rain-soaked earth and cigarettes. and yet, when he bites his lip, something flutters low in her stomach—dangerous, thrilling.

“little late to be walking around dressed like that, don’t you think?” he sneers, and scorn flickers in his eyes. but the humiliation sends a shiver through her, one she doesn’t quite hate. “you headed to the party?”

“obviously,” she shoots back, spreading her arms, letting him take in the dress—though he’s already noticed, definitely. still, she’s relieved. he knows about the party, and suddenly he feels closer, more familiar. not quite a stranger anymore. “you?”

“yeah,” he shrugs, casual, like it’s nothing. “not really big on parties, though. i prefer the quiet.” his voice dips, eyes lingering on her. “but you gotta socialize… or you get lonely.”

“right.” she quirks a smirk, finally letting herself look him up and down. “but it’s a costume party, you know.”

“oh, i’m in costume. i’m just subtle,” he says, grin spreading wider, darker. “wanna see?”

against her better judgment—against every instinct screaming at her to walk away—she nods. his smirk deepens. he lifts his lip, just enough for a single sharp fang to catch in the dim light.

she laughs, half-relieved. “that barely counts as a costume.”

“oh, but it counts,” he says.

“fine. so, what are you supposed to be?”

he leans in just a little closer, his words coiling around her like smoke. “that’s the game, pet. you have to guess. guess right, and you win something. guess wrong...” his smile widens. “well, i get something.”

naive and pathetically charmed by the boy, she raises an eyebrow. “what do i get?”

he leans back, pretending to think, though his eyes never leave hers. "i mean... i'm a stranger in the woods. you get to walk away... unharmed."

poor thing, she rolls her eyes like he was joking. "and if i don't guess right," she speaks, her voice softer now. "what do you want?"

"a kiss."

her heart stumbles. she'd give it to him, gladly. hell, she'd guess wrong just to get their lips together. but... “i'm really sorry i…” she stammers, smile faltering, “i have a boyfriend.” 

and though he doesn't seem fazed, his expression shifts. subtle, but unmistakable. his eyes darken, the playful charm fading away. “you shouldn’t go around teasing strangers when you're all alone like this,” he says softly, “might find yourself in trouble.”

she swallows hard, "i– i'm so sorry, i wasn't trying to—" 

“it’s whatever,” he says, stepping back into the shadows, his voice a low warning. “go to your boyfriend, little red. but be careful. there are wolves out here. and not all of them are as friendly as me.” he pauses, a smirk twisting his lips. “name’s beomgyu, by the way.”

and so little red riding hood wanders on, oblivious to the truth: wolves wear many skins, each one crafted to prey on vanity, on longing, on the hollow spaces left unguarded.

they slip through shapes, feeding on weakness and hunger. but it’s in the glow of those predatory eyes that you recognize him. the unmistakable trace of his essence, the constant lurking in every form.

the wolf is as cunning as he is ferocious; once he’s had a taste of flesh then nothing else will do.

the halloween party is but a yearly excuse for yeonjun to show off how filthily rich he is and make a joke out of it. as if by opening the doors of his mansion to the rest of the mortals he lets them in on the punchline. a spectacle for the sake of being one. a big parody of himself. 

and tonight, he’s dressed as gatsby, because of course he is. the slick white suit shimmers under the bruised purple lights, like a spotlight trailing him—and it might as well be, because yeonjun is the spotlight, soaking in every second of it. 

he carries a champagne glass permanently attached to his hand, always swirling just enough liquid to keep things classy but not sober. every grin he flashes feels rehearsed, and he keeps crooning “old sport!" at anyone close enough to hear.

he's a cartoon. a well-dressed, charming caricature of wealth and tragedy, and everyone in the room knows it. and they love it. and he loves it more than anyone.

the music thumps through the house like a pulse, vibrating underfoot and inside ribcages. it’s too fast, too loud, forcing everyone to keep moving or else be swallowed up by the noise. by the chaos. bodies blend together, creating a messy tangle of limbs and sweat, grinding and swaying under the flickering strobe lights.

a chandelier overhead swings crooked, crystals throwing fractured light around, mimicking a starry sky in a thousand different colors. it's gaudy, too big for the room, and yet perfect for yeonjun’s vision. a crown fit for the king of excess. 

she sits on the edge of it all, watching. just watching. taehyun’s next to her, but he might as well be miles away.

his eyes are glued to yeonjun who leans in close, whispering something in his ear, pointing out random people in the room. every now and then, taehyun’s lips twitch into a smirk as he scans the room like he’s calculating everyone's worth, everyone’s weaknesses.

he hasn’t looked at her once. she could have been invisible.

the bitterness stings, but she pushes it down. instead, she reaches out, her fingers grazing his arm, trying to pull him back to her, even if just for a second. “hey… you wanna get out of here? somewhere quieter?”

taehyun doesn’t react at first, not even a flicker of recognition in his eyes. he’s in his own world, lost in whatever game yeonjun’s playing. 

dressed as a medieval knight, his armor shines under the lights, making him look even more untouchable. when he finally speaks, it’s almost an afterthought. “yeah, yeah. in a bit.” his words are hollow, thrown over his shoulder like loose change. “just… give us a second.”

and before she can process it, yeonjun’s turning toward them with that same cruel smile he’s been flashing all night. “god, you’re clingy,” he says, “can’t handle not being the center of attention for, what, five minutes?”

her stomach twists, heat flooding her face. “i wasn’t—” she starts, but her soft spoken words quickly fall short.

“it’s fine,” taehyun cuts in, still not looking at her, “just… chill, okay? we’ll leave soon.”

it feels like a slap. not hard, not violent. just… cold. her chest tightens. and it’s so clear now—he doesn’t care. he’s tolerating her, only and barely. her fingers clench into fists on her lap. she swallows hard, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over.

"i’m… i’m going to the bathroom," she says, voice barely audible over the pounding music. but it doesn’t matter. taehyun doesn’t hear her. 

she drifts through the crowd like smoke, unseen, slipping between the life and color all around her, barely there.

she finds her way out to the porch, cold air cutting into her skin, sharp as the bitter edge of disappointment still lingering in her chest. she hugs her arms, the night heavy and indifferent, pressing in on her as if to make her smaller.

yeonjun’s yard sprawls below, made-up like a graveyard—plastic tombstones lurch from the soil, skeletons claw out of dirt, grinning skulls leer up at her from the fog.

her breath puffs into the night, fading just as she feels she has, every inch of her dressed up for someone who never even noticed. ridiculous fucking slut.

but then, the air thickens, a chill going down her spine. she senses him before she sees him. a crackle in the dark, the slow burn of a cigarette lighting up.

“you look… sad, little red,” barely a purr. low, smooth, a murmur from the dark that curls around her like a trap.

she startles, spinning, heart slamming up to her throat. it’s him. beomgyu. the boy from the woods.

he's lounging against a stone grave, cigarette dangling from his fingers. his face is a smirk made of shadow, his eyes glinting, almost like he’s playing at something, watching her to see if she’ll play along.

“why aren’t you inside?” she asks.

“i told you," he says, snuffing out the cigarette against the stone, his gaze never leaving her face. "i like the quiet. besides...” his smirk stretches, razor-sharp. “can’t say i’m exactly welcome in there.”

then he stands. he steps closer. that lazy, stalking pace that narrows the distance between them, each footfall a reminder of who’s in control. the night presses her back against the railing.

“you’ll freeze out here, pet,” he says, words tipped with a cruel sort of sweetness.

he’s looking at her the way a wolf might look at a lamb. like he could devour her whole, and god help her, a spark of thrill runs down her spine, sharp as a nail.

she stares, heart skittering in her chest, searching his face for something human—but his eyes are restless, ravenous. and yet they see her, see through her. why couldn’t taehyun ever look at her like that? why couldn’t he see her like beomgyu did?

“i… i want to take that bet.” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

his eyes spark, the faintest flicker, and she feels like she’s opened a door she can’t close. he leans in, his smirk curling wider. “what about the boyfriend?”

she holds his gaze, refuses to look away, “the boyfriend doesn't give a fuck about me.”

one of his hands is already sliding around her waist like a snake coiling around prey. the other lifts to the neckline of her dress, fingers sliding up to tug gently at the red ribbon there, toying with it.

“then guess, little red,” he murmurs, lips curling into a pout that pretends innocence, “what am i?”

and from the bottom of her being, she knows what he is. but she doesn’t dare put it into words. she decides to guess wrong.

“a kitten, maybe?” her voice comes out playful, teasing, such a pretty little fool, “with those cute fangs?”

he laughs, sharp and cocky, and she watches his tongue glide over his canines. “wrong,” he murmurs, leaning down, his grin widening. “you owe me something now, don't you?”

she smiles, heart racing as she tiptoes to reach him and his arm tightens around her waist, providing a steady anchor. her lips brush his just barely, the peck of a little bunny.

but he’s already got her, pulling her in harder, his mouth a claim, his kiss a taking. his lips are cold, but the kiss is hot, burning. his jaw tightens and loosens wide and heavy, lips pressing against hers with a force that feels like he's taking something from her—something she didn't agree to give.

she allows him to do as he pleases, giving herself to him like she's under a spell. she clings to his frame, hands gripping his shoulders, body caught up in the press of him.

her breath becomes shallow, her mind a blur. his touch, his heat, too much all at once, too intense, too—

she dares to open her eyes. just to look at him. just for a second.

and she's terrified to discover that his once brown gaze is now molten, liquid yellow, something feral staring back at her. her pulse jumps, fear clawing its way up.

she pulls back, gasping, but he’s already there, leaning in again, his mouth hovering like he wants to bite, to consume. she raises her hands, warding him off. “i… i think i should go back inside.”

"why?" he purrs, and his breath impatient and almost manic against her cheek. "scared, little red?"

her throat tightens, "i don’t really… know you, and…" she tries to step away, but his hands close around her waist like iron. trapping her.

"you don’t need to." his fingers dig into her, reminding her that her body is his to command. he draws her close, “let’s play one last game, pet. just one. what do you say?”

“what… kind of game?” she asks.

and just like that he lets go. he steps back. a twisted offering of freedom she knows can't be trusted.

“we race,” he says, voice low, almost playful. “you run. back to your house. if you make it—” his eyes gleam, hungry “—i leave you alone.”

“and if i don’t?”

beomgyu never replies. he stays silent, shadows pooling in his amber eyes.

the full moon hangs ivory, casting a ghostly glare across his face. he glances up at it, bathing in it's glow like it's medicine. then his gaze drifts back to her, that twisted, merciless smile twisting his face.

and he just starts counting down.

ten... nine... eight...

she doesn't wait for seven.

she bolts. she flies down the steps, heart pounding, her feet barely grazing the ground as she breaks into the night. gravel scrapes beneath her heels.

six.

she ditches her shoes mid-sprint, stumbling onto the cold, wet ground. the fake cemetery looms around her, fog twisting between the tombstones as adrenaline pushes her forward.

five.

the sound of him shifts, something subtle at first—a dark, guttural growl building low in his throat. her heart stutters. it’s happening.

four.

a crackle of bone, a sickening pop, a snarl splitting the quiet night. something breaking, reshaping. she hears his breath deepen, his bones stretching, snapping.

three.

a howl cuts through the night, piercing, shuddering through her bones, her skin, her soul. the sound belongs to something that is no longer human.

two.

she dares to glance over her shoulder, just once, and what she sees makes her blood run cold. a massive, shadowed figure, fur gleaming silver under the moonlight, teeth bared in a snarl that sends ice through her veins.

his eyes, the same molten yellow as before, are locked on her, brimming with a hunger that borders on savage.

she never hears the one. she just runs and runs, as fast as she can. but the wolf is faster.

carnivore incarnate, only immaculate flesh appeases him.

the trees claw at the sky. gnarled limbs jutted out, crooked talons waiting to snatch her, tear her apart, make her one with the dark.

she doesn’t run but hurtles through the blackness, branches snapping beneath her feet like brittle bones. the forest isn't just there anymore—it's aware, watching her, toying with her. she can’t stop. can’t even breathe. 

he's after her. and he's close.

“guess right, and you get to walk away unharmed.” how she regrets what she's done. she should've guessed right. should've kept her life instead of trading it for a kiss. stupid mistake. stupid choice by a foolish girl.

but just when she's about to give up she sees—between the curtain of twisted trees, the faintest flicker of light. her house. it's almost a visual illusion. something so desired it seems unreal. so near. almost there. her heart skips with hope.

she never makes it.

something cold as death clamps around her wrist, yanking her back. her body slams against a thick, gnarled oak tree, the bark biting into her back. it’s like the forest itself is starving for her, clawing at her, pulling her deeper into its hunger.

she feels red-hot, searing pain. then the wet warmth of his breath on her face. human again, if you can even call him that. all ragged, scraped and scratched. but human.

"run, run, run," he purrs, voice slick with amusement, "did you really think you could get away?"

it was never about catching her—it was always about the chase. the thrill of letting her think she could escape, just to tear that illusion apart in the final, hopeless moment.

she’s not escaping. not now. not ever.

"little red," he says with a sultry pout, his index finger tracing her jawline, “you seem so scared…”

“w-what are you going to do to me?” she asks.

she tries to wrestle, always avoiding his eyes. but each movement affects her physically, making her more aware of his body against hers, of his hands upon her.

he lowers himself, bringing his face close to her neck and breathes her in. his nose grazes her skin in a barely-there caress that makes her insides tighten. he nuzzles his head against her throat, his body stirring as if comforted by the scent. 

“you smell even better up close,” he says, his lips parting as they hover over her neck. he lets his tongue brush her skin, savoring the faint saltiness. “taste even better than i imagined."

he sends a shiver through her, a crackling thrill that races under her skin. her heart beats so swiftly that she feels as though this were the moment she had expected for years. she almost stands up on her toes to hear the rest of his words.

"you’re so beautiful, little red.” he continues. “boyfriend never noticed, but i did. i’ve been waiting for this… for so long.”

and she knows it's true. she would’ve known even if he hadn’t said a word—could’ve felt it in the way his arms cage her against the rough bark of that oak, the trembling eagerness in his body. 

he wants her, not gently, but raw and feral. and when she meets his gaze, those amber eyes glowing in the half-light, starvation licking at the edges, she feels something inside her shift. the want for this monster—this creature with fire burning in his stare, diabolically phosphorescent.

in quiet awe, she says, “what big eyes you have.”

“all the better to see you with.”

he does see her. exactly how she wants to be seen. and she wants to let him see more.

she pulls off her scarlet shawl—a flash of poppies, the bloody bloom of sacrifice. and since fear is of no use to her now, she sheds it like old skin, too. next, the blouse—soft, almost apologetic in the way it slides over her head—leaving her breasts bare, kissed by the cold silver of moonlight.

his arms find her without thinking, tight, firm, an embrace that feels like iron bands. in that grip, something stirs inside her, something she hasn't felt in so long it almost frightens her—it’s not just being wanted, but being claimed, protected, as though she belongs to him entirely.

“what big arms you have,” she breathes, her fingers tracing the hard ridges of his bicep, brute strength beneath her palms.

“all the better to hold you with,” he grins, his lips parting just enough for her to catch the white of teeth. the daggers of fangs.

her voice drops to a whisper, “what big teeth you have.”

“all the better to eat you with...”

his words slither out just before his mouth crashes onto hers, devouring. his lips, firm and greedy, drink from her, swallowing her breath, tongue invading with a force that leaves her dizzy.

his hands grip her body with the same ruthless intensity, fingers mauling her flesh like claws, leaving painful bruises blooming under his touch.

his mouth drifts lower, down to her jaw, down to her neck, teeth grazing her skin in teasing bites, until he finds the soft skin of her chest. the hardened, sensitive nipple. he sucks hard enough to leave a bruise. a mark of ownership. meant to hurt. to claim.

his tongue grazes the sensitive peak again, teasing her with the cruelty of it, dragging it out. her breath falters, and before she can choke it back, a broken whimper slips out.

“good girl,” he purrs against her skin, “such a good little pup.”

his hands aren’t far behind. they drift lower, fingers tracing the curve of her body, abandoning her chest like it’s no longer enough. they slide down her sides lingering over her stomach before slipping between her thighs. his fingers brush the garters, barely caressing the lace straps holding them tight against her legs.

“too tight, don’t you think?” his voice is quieter now, almost thoughtful. he traces the garter’s edge again, pressing into the skin where it’s biting in. “let’s see if it left a mark.”

he lifts her skirt, letting her feel every inch of skin being exposed, every second of her body laid bare to his gaze. her leg lifts instinctively, just a small movement, but enough for him to slide the garter down, peeling it away from her thigh.

and there, above the edge of her stocking, her skin gleams, reddened, damaged by the strap. he stares for a second too long, then up at her, asking for permission, knowing very well he has it already.

of course, she lets him.

his fingers skim the inside of her thigh, higher, until they’re at the edge of her panties, toying with the fabric like it’s something fragile. he grins, teasing. and she sees in his eyes, in his invigorated breath, that something violent is coming. 

his fingers press against her cunt, once, cold and firm, right against the damp fabric clinging to her skin. then comes a ruthless slap, quick, and she bites down on her lip hard enough to taste blood. then a second slap, harder, leaving her moaning, and her hips jerking toward him.

without a word, his finger slips past the soaked fabric, and makes its way inside her, slow but firm, pushing through the heat of her skin like he’s sinking into something molten, something desperate.

her back arches hard against him, her head falling onto his shoulder. the surrender comes easily—she doesn’t fight it. she opens for him, lets him push deeper, lets him take.

he stops when he’s knuckle-deep, breath hot against her ear. "you like that, little red?”

her heart slams against her chest, and the wet heat grows, slick and throbbing. she can only nod and let out a pathetic “hmph”. 

she’s already soaked, but the need—the ache—builds with every passing second, with every subtle shift of his breath, his body looming over hers like a shadow.

another finger slips in, just as slow, until he curls them inside her, pressing deep enough that she feels every inch. her entire body trembles, a soft moan slipping from her mouth.

he pulls out his fingers, but only for a second before he plunges them back in, harder this time, deeper. forcing her body to open for him. her breath hitches, and her cunt clenches around him, her walls spasming as he presses further.

“such a tiny little hole…” he says, almost to himself, a wicked grin curling his lips. 

when he withdraws, he drags it out, agonizingly slow, like he wants her to feel every ridge of his knuckles as they pull back. the emptiness is immediate, the loss of him, the loss of that pressure, unbearable. 

he holds his hand up, and her eyes widen. she can see the evidence of her need painted across his skin, shining under the dim light. 

the dampness between her thighs coats his fingers in a thick sheen. it glistens, dripping down toward his palm, the slick strings of her arousal hanging between his fingers. “so fucking wet for me,” he growls, his voice rough, edged with a sharp, dark amusement. “dripping like a little slut.”

his hand moves again, back down, fingers sliding over her trembling cunt, tracing along the wet, swollen folds. when his fingers find her clit, they barely press—just enough to make her shiver, just enough to make her whimper. the wet bud throbs under his touch, every nerve in her body firing at once.

"beomgyu p-please," she whispers, barely recognizing the sound of her own voice.

the grin that spreads across his face is demonic, a depraved satisfaction settling in the lines of his jaw. every second that passes is his to control. in one fluid motion, his hands are at the waistband of his jeans, undoing them with a pull. 

the pants slide down, peeling off like skin, and then he’s free. the hard line of him, thick, swollen, standing rigid in the faint light. it gleams, slick at the tip with precum, and her breath stumbles over itself, catching, holding, as her eyes latch onto the sight. 

his hand wraps around his cock and he strokes himself, the rhythm heavy. his size makes her breath hitch—the way she knows he’s going to stretch her, fill her completely.

the thought of him fucking into her becomes all-consuming. her thighs tremble, and she can feel the clenching heat between her legs, aching, desperate.

he moves corruptly slow, dragging the swollen tip of his cock down, sliding it through the soaked mess of her folds. it’s a tease, the wet heat of her slick coating him, and the pressure of him right there—right at her entrance—makes her head spin.

a moan escapes, soft, helpless, her lips parting as he toys with her, his cock gliding up and down, never giving her enough, always holding back just a little longer.

his eyes lock with hers, and they’re glowing, that eerie golden glow, something unholy in them, “beg for me.” 

“p-please,” she chokes out, the haze of lust clouding every rational thought. “please, beomgyu… i need you. please.”

the second the words spill from her mouth, he moves. he thrusts into her, forcing her open, the thick length of his cock splitting her apart. the stretch is instant, a burn that radiates through her core, and she gasps, her back arching as he fills her. 

the tightness of her cunt clamps around him, a desperate attempt to take him all in, and she can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein as he pushes deeper, harder, until he’s buried to the hilt, his cock seated deep inside her.

he grips her hips with ruthless strength, his fingers digging into her skin, sure to leave marks, bruises that will linger. he holds her there, buried deep inside her, savoring the way her body shakes, the way her walls flutter around him.

“ah, fuck…” he groans, his voice rough and guttural like he’s barely holding back from wrecking her completely.

a tremble runs through her like a live wire, raw nerves, everything sparking at once. she adjusts to the size of him inside her, body bending, flexing around the thick intrusion. she feels like she's being split open, the sharp line between pleasure and pain blurring until it’s just sensation—hot, pulsing, overwhelming. 

he starts to move, each thrust like a shock to her system. his hips grind into her with almost cruel force, ricocheting pleasure up her spine, waves crashing in her chest. 

"look at you," he growls, voice thick with satisfaction, "taking me so well. fuck, my little pet, keep making those noises for me,”

she whimpers in response as the coil of pleasure in her belly winds tighter, tighter, pulling her in. he slides in and out of her, their bodies tangled, twisting, rolling together. her cries now mount in endless spirals, loud as if he was murdering her. 

beomgyu answers each cry with a deeper thrust, pushing into her harder, his hips slamming against hers with a brutal sound. he’s lost in it, in her, in the need to possess her to annihilation. she belongs to him now, her body molded to fit his touch, pliable under his hands. 

his fingers tangle in her hair, yanking her head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck, and his lips find her there, hot and hungry, biting, sucking, the sharp edge of his teeth sinking into her skin between breathless kisses.

his grip tightens as his thrusts become frantic, erratic, the control slipping from his grasp. “s-so fucking close,” he groans, his voice raw, trembling, every word a struggle against the rising tide of his release.

and with one final, savage thrust, she's the first one to shatter. 

the orgasm crashes into her with a force that steals her breath, her vision blurring, her walls clamping down around him as her climax takes over.

he escapes a low, animalistic sound. a howl that vibrates through her chest. he fucks her through her oversensitivity and his thrusts grow rougher, less controlled, his hips slamming into hers. the obscene slap of their bodies colliding fills the air, the noise of flesh on flesh, sweat-slick and raw.

he curses under his breath, his hips stuttering, his cock buried deep inside her as he finally comes, his release spilling into her, thick and hot, filling her completely, warmth flooding through her as her body trembles uncontrollably under the onslaught of pleasure.

beomgyu’s teeth sink deep into her flesh. biting hard enough to leave marks, her skin yielding under his canines, and she whimpers, too far gone to feel the pain, her body burning with pleasure, every nerve on fire, every sensation magnified as the aftershocks ripple through her, wave after wave of white-hot bliss.

his cock twitches inside her, pulsing, pumping more of his release into her, and she sobs, her body shaking as the pleasure rips through her, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. her vision blurs, white-hot flashes behind her eyes, and all she can feel is him—filling her, marking her, owning her.

with a snarl, he finally pulls back, releasing her neck, and a soft moan slips from her lips as his tongue flicks over the small wound he’s left behind, licking away the blood, soothing the sting with gentle kisses. there’s a tenderness to his touch now, strange and foreign after the brutality.

slowly, he shifts his hips, easing his cock out of her, and she whimpers at the sensation, her body so sensitive that every movement reignites the sparks of arousal beneath her skin. she feels him drag against her, the last of his release leaking out of her, warm and thick, a reminder of how thoroughly he’s claimed her.

she lies there, spent, panting, her body soft and malleable under his hands, no longer her own but something broken, something he’s molded, possessed. his slave, his ownership, growing soft under his fingers.

for a moment, everything is still. 

the only sound is their ragged breathing, their chests rising and falling in sync. his body stays pressed against hers, his warmth seeping into her, grounding her in the moment. his lips brush her ear, “you’re mine now, little red. all mine.”

she doesn’t even have the strength to respond. she’s spent, hollowed out, drained of everything, her body limp, barely held together by the weight of him, by the grip of his hands still clutching her as if she might slip away. everything feels far away, like she’s underwater.

the world fades—blurry sounds, dim lights—and then she’s weightless, cradled in his arms as he carries her like something fragile. 

there’s nothing but moonlit quiet and deathly cold in the woods. only the soft fall of his steps, paw prints in the ground. 

and little red sleeps, forever nestled in the arms of the tender wolf.

taglist 𖥧𖤣.𖡼°˖ @beomiracles @yoseicour @fairfootedflekk @bubbly-moon @izzyy-stuff and i know more people asked to be on the general taglist but i'm an idiot and i never kept track so. yeah. sorry. just ask again.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Various Creepypastas x Reader who sleeps in weird spaces

3/5 of the prizes for @reivelmin !!

Post contains: Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby, Liu, and Bloody Painter!

I actually dont think I've written for Helen before?? I know I havent written for Liu yet so heres to hoping my takes and hcs are accurate!

EYELESS JACK

When he first catches you in the closet sleeping nearly standing straight up he nearly yelps. You made the stoic eyeless Jack, the man who rarely flinches or jumps at anything, jolt. Naturally he wakes you up and asks why you're in there, but no answer really satisfies him. He tries to drag you to bed and for the night everything is.. normal. But this will be far from the last time he finds you sleeping in an odd place, seemingly unbothered. He eventually asks if theres something going on with you, even dumbly asking if theres something wrong with the bed.. but alas, nothing. You just.. sleep like that.. he often drags you into bed so you dont get sore or fall over

LAUGHING JACK

He thinks you're pranking him, and of course he starts cracking up. He commends you for getting him good, only for his laughter to die down when he realizes that you are in fact asleep while curled in a cabinet. For a moment he thinks you.. died.. or worse was murdered and stuffed into the odd place. He nearly rips you out of the space before you finally crack an eye open. Please dont scare him like that again, he does not take abandonment well even if the scenario is someone possibly dying. Once the shock is over with and he grows more used to it, the humor he originally found in it returns.. it almost turns into a game of where hes going to find you next and what position you're going to be in.. he does not bother to take you to bed and if theres room hes going to squeeze in with you wherever you are

MASKY

Hes probably done that at least once, he sometimes watches you in your sleep on the occasion that you actually fall asleep in a normal place (bed, couch, ect) and he kind of slumps into the corner he was sulking in. Though you... certainly one up him when he catches you sleeping on top of the fridge! If you're in a hard to reach place or really deep into it he leaves you be without attempting to get you out. Eventually he kind of just accepts that this is something you do and completely leaves you alone unless you're in the way of something. More likely to wake you up than moving you out of the way, though... you've probably gotten jumpscared by him simply standing there waiting for you to wake up

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but I do think Hoodie would take you to bed so you dont get sick (floors are cold, people!) Or getting a knot somewhere in your muscles. Partly because he will likely be too busy with his work to tend to you, partly also because he can be stern when it comes to your health. Theres no ifs ands or buts, hes taking you to bed and hes going to keep you there! Hes a big dude too, he'll hold you in place next to him if he has to

TICCI TOBY

He gets it, honestly. If it's like a security or a comfort thing or just out of impulse he gets it. You might find him sleeping in ungodly positions when he crashes at your place, or sleeping under the bed. He has used a chair as a blanket before. He might feel inclined to try to one up you, actually. All fun and games of course! He also does not carry you to bed, and similar to LJ he might just join you if theres room! Just be warned when sleeping around him he might draw on your face or something.. definitely takes your phone so he can take pictures of you to make fun of you later

LIU

For a minute he doesnt realize exactly what's going on. He might actually pick your stuffed animal up and give it back to you and shut the door of the closet before ripping it open as he stares at you. Gently shakes your shoulder to wake you up, and while he might have to get a little harsh to actually get you awake hes apologizing for waking you up. So so so many questions. Why are you doing that? Why dont you come to bed? Will not take no for an answer. He wants answers, if there are any. After you offer an explanation hes a lot more understanding about it although still very.. confused. Are you not worried about falling over in your sleep? Or even just waking up uncomfortable...? That aside how do you even.. sleep standing up like that, and how long were you like that..? He just.. accepts it

BLOODY PAINTER

Very neutral about it, but he does entertain you with questions when he catches you awake in the morning. It doesnt matter where you sleep, hes not going to disturb you unless you get in his way. But considering hes claimed a corner in your home for himself and his belongings, you don't have to worry about that! Despite claiming to not mind all that much you still seem to wake up in bed despite falling asleep under it. He'll never admit to moving you, but theres no other person who could have done it.. he also wont ever say it but he does sometimes want you to lay next to him

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

41 ┆ not once but twice (0.6k words)

The day you and Jungwon were supposed to meet, you woke up sick. You didn’t come in contact with someone who was sick nor was that cold for you to catch a sickness from the weather. Still, you woke up sick.

Instead of staying home, you still went to meet with Jungwon. You didn’t want to cause trouble by cancelling last minute, so, you took your medication and went on your way.

Your eyes felt heavy as you watched the boy’s pencil move across his notebook. You were trying your hardest to pay attention, but couldn’t. Not with your head throbbing. 

“You’re so distracted. Try and focus.” He said while looking over at you who sat beside him.

“I’m trying.” You replied while attempting to forget about your incoming fever. Jungwon put his pencil down and looked over at you. You looked back at him with a puzzled expression as his hand made its way to your forehead.

“Are you sick?” He asked as you avoided his gaze. He compared your temperature to his own, his eyes slightly widening at the discovery.

“You are, aren’t you?”

You nodded at his words, embarrassed. 

“Why didn’t you stay home? It would’ve been fine.” Jungwon reassured you and began packing up your belongings. 

“It was too late. I thought I’d be fine after taking medication, but obviously, it wasn’t enough.” You explained while helping him pack.

“Sorry,” you apologized, causing him to scoff.

“It’s fine. Seriously, next time just cancel. It’s getting cold outside now, your cold could develop into the flu.”

You nodded at his words in silence. Technically, he was right. You couldn’t refute anything he had said. Jungwon smiled at your silent state, leaving him satisfied. He rose from his spot as you followed through, confused.

“Where are we going?” 

“I’m taking you home. Where else are you going to go in such a state?” He said with a raised brow. You looked around silently while nodding. Once again, he was right. The longer you stayed out, the worse your cold would have gotten.

Maybe he was truly worried about you.

He zipped up your jacket, making sure you were completely warm, which only left you more flustered than before. 

“Let’s make a stop at the convenience store first.” He insisted, leaving you with no other choice but to nod. 

The walk over wasn’t far. It was more so awkward. Your hands brushed against each other not once, but twice. 

It left you both flustered and silent. It was obvious the two of you took note of it as well.

“Wait here,” Jungwon said before running into the convenience store in haste. You stood outside quietly and observed the things around you. They were pretty. 

Pretty enough for a picture. With that said, you pulled out your mini film camera from your pocket and crouched down in front of the plants before capturing the picture.

“What are you doing?” Jungwon asked, peeking over your shoulder from behind. You flinched at his sudden presence, almost falling forward. However, his hand grabbed onto your arm, stabilizing your wobbly figure.

“Thank you,” you said while dusting off your clothes and turning to look at him.

His bangs were covering his eyes which almost made him look like a creep. Your smile and laughs left Jungwon confused as he let go of your arm. 

What was so funny?

“What?” 

“Your bangs were covering your eyes.” You explained while reaching over to push his hair out of his view.

“It looked stupid.” 

If there was one thing for sure, he definitely looked stupid right now. From the small act, he was left blushing. Jungwon looked away hoping you wouldn’t see his subtly rosy cheeks and adjusted his bangs himself until they felt right.

Surely, you caught him off guard with that.

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — short little written chap of wonyn my babies 😞

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo @wildtigerlili @nishiriks @letwiiparkjay

© JUYEOZ

[slasherstories123]

Hello!! Can I please get some period comfort fluff with Jason, Thomas, RZ micheal and Art (whoever else you'd like to add) thank you xoxo

Slashers helping their S/O on their period

Pairing: Jason Voorhees, RZ! Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, and Art the Clown x GN! Reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @pink-apollo @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @callsignwidow @endomishy

Jason Voorhees

Jason will do anything you ask just to help out, he hates seeing you in pain. Especially from cramps and will grab the biggest pain killer bottle he can find just to give to you.

He doesn’t understand the concept so it’s best to sit him down and talk about it just before the time comes just so he could help out.

Sadly. He isn’t a walking heating pad, if he were to place his hand on your stomach to try and soothe your cramps you’ll feel a cold sensation, ice cold to be exact.

He’ll put you in you a warm bath if he sees that your cramps are getting worse

He’s trying his best just to make sure you’re okay and will give you space if you need it.

He’ll cuddle you as long as you want if you want to given his cold body, if you don’t mind it, he’s never letting you go unless you say so just to be there as company and support.

RZ!Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t know much about periods, but he did have an older sister, even then, that wasn’t enough for him, all he knew was that it was a monthly thing women go through.

He knew you were going through it when he saw you curled up in a ball in bed from the excruciating cramps, he doesn’t know what to do until you tell him want your needs were.

He’s trying…for you at least, the best he can do is provide you medicine. All the while staring at your pained figure. If you want him to stay he will.

Michaels hands are warm, he always have something in his hands and will squeeze relentlessly. He’ll even let you place his hand on your stomach as your own heating pad just to help you (after your slight begging of course).

He’ll steal candy from the critters houses to give to you too, you’ll sometimes find them by your night stand or right by your pillow whenever you wake up from a nap.

Thomas Hewitt

He gets help from Luda Mae mostly. He’s clueless and ran straight to her when he saw you curled up in bed.

She’ll tell him everything you might need just so he can be a better help for you.

Thomas will find a way to cool you down since being hot AND on your period isn’t a good mix. He’ll do the smallest things, even if it’s a massage he’ll do it.

Even if you protest he’ll make you rest and will do any small tasks that were assigned for you.

In the night he’ll meekness you to take medicine before bed just so you won’t be in pain throughout the nights

Thomas skin is hot from the Texas heat. His hand makes the perfect heating pad for you too. Whatever cuddling position you’re in his hand will be on your stomach through the night.

Art the Clown

Art is definitely trying his best, and since his actions are different, he’ll go through extreme measures just to get the products you need for your period.

He’ll still pull rather weird tricks just to get a laugh out of you or to distract you from the pain in your stomach.

Most tricks involve weird tactics or disturbing ones, which are in his nature that you’ve gotten used to and you yourself even got to laugh at a few of them

Art is an affectionate guy who will squeeze you tight while cuddling if you ask him to. If it’s a small hug he’ll take it to the next level just to squeeze you in his arms like a stress toy.

Art will also govern you small twinkles he stole or found just to give to you to cheer you up if you’re having your period mood swings. Sometimes he’ll play along if you’re upset and cross his arms with a fake angry expression just to try and mock you.

It’s all harmless in the end.

[purinfelix]

doctor, doctor, help me - park jongseong ₊˚⊹

summary: after a strange encounter with a shadowy figure one night, you're roped into an even stranger routine of being a handsome fighter's personal nurse - but after almost two months of it, you've grown tired, even if he hasn't ──── street fighter jay x nursing student reader || sfw, angst, tension || w/c; 2.6k (holy moly this is the longest fic I've written in a while)

a/n: ok this is like the third time I've written a fic using this like ' nursing student patches up' trope BUT I CAN'T HELP IT i literally eat it up every single time and when i was watching the bts of the no doubt mv the idea literally came to me right there so i hope y'all enjoy !! <333

"You can't be serious."

The scold falls from your lips less as a response and more of an unconscious reaction to the man standing in front of you. You don't know what's worse, the several bruises littering his face, the split lip that's dribbling blood down his chin - or the fact that this isn't even the worst state you've seen him in.

It's not like you have time to decide anyway, because as soon as he shoots you that look - the guilty yet almost pleading half-smile, you're too weak to refuse.

"Get in," you huff, opening your apartment door wider for him to slip in quickly, and you glance both ways in the hallway to make sure no one sees him before shutting it.

"You said the other night would be the last time Jay," you say, watching as he stumbles unsteadily towards your couch where he falls with a tired sigh.

"Well, that's what I thought babe," he laughs and you feel something twist inside you at the petname, "but it's not like this business is very reliable, is it?"

"Well," you sigh, mocking his tone, "that's why I thought you said you'd be finding another job, one that doesn't involve you coming to me half-beaten to death every other night."

Your words are harsh, especially given the amount of pain you're sure he's in right now but after almost two months of this same routine, you're tired of it. Plus, you know what he needs to hear at times like this.

It had started one night when you went out late to take out the trash, only to be startled by a shadowy figure lurking in the bushes. After he assured you he wasn't a thief, and giving you time to catch your breath he was about to dash off - but the first thing you noticed was the dark red trickling down the side of his cheek and the messy way his dark hair fell over his thick brows. The second thing you noticed was the look in his eyes, rough and a little cold, but the longer you looked the softer it became until it was something vulnerable, almost bordering on fear.

You'd be heartless not to take him in.

That's what you told yourself as you tried your best to convince him to follow you back up to your apartment - knowing full well the irony and complete stupidity of letting a beat-up man wander into your home. He obliged and soon you were setting him down and fetching the first aid kit you had gotten in a recent practical lesson. In the warm light of your living room, you were able to get a better look at him - his bruised knuckles, dark baggy clothing but most of all, the amused, almost cocky smirk spreading across his lips as he watched you tend to him.

You were firm though, treating this purely as your professional duty as a nursing student as you patched up his scuffs - though you weren't going to let this opportunity go without at least getting some answers. After some questioning, and dodging his attempts to pry into your personal life, you found out his name - Jay - and what exactly he had been doing lurking in the bushes near your complex. Though 'working in an underground boxing ring' was an answer that definitely needed more explanation than you had anticipated.

Admittedly, the entire situation was a little entertaining to you, at least for the first couple of times - after all, it wasn't every day a handsome boxer stumbled onto your doorstep and let you carefully tend to his wounds. But maybe he had overestimated your generosity because he was soon back a week later, the week after that and soon it became an almost nightly occurrence - though you taught yourself to never count on his appearances.

Your patience was running thin, but your ability to continually see Jay in so much pain was running even thinner, even if this came out more as a harsh irritation than the careful worry you intended it to be.

"There's a thousand jobs that don't involve risking your personal safety, you know," you sigh in exasperation, pulling up a chair beside the couch he's sprawled upon. In his dark grungey clothes and messed up look, he sticks out starkly from your fluffy pillows and stuffed animals in an almost endearing way.

"Well most of those jobs don't pay half as well as this does," he laughs, pulling himself up so you can look at his face and as he does you try not to think too much about how he's getting far too used to this routine. "And the others, well, they won't even consider hiring a drop-out like me."

You grab him by the jaw, yanking him closer which earns a soft chuckle from him even as you force yourself to look stern. "Have you even tried? I mean, money isn't everything, you know," you mumble, "I know the convenience store around the corner from here is hiring, you could look there."

"Right because I'm just the kind of guy for stocking shelves and heating up ramen for people," he scoffs coolly, eyes watching as you prepare cotton balls of antiseptic.

You let out a frustrated exhale, beginning your work on his injuries in concentrated silence. He only sits there, surprisingly obedient, as you dab his open cuts, not even wincing in pain. After all, this isn't the first time you've patched him up and you're pretty sure it won't be the last, so this strange routine the two of you have fallen into brings an even stranger sense of comfort. Despite that, and all your efforts at professionalism, it's difficult not to get just a little bit flustered whenever you have to touch his face, or when he makes snide flirty comments that you're sure he doesn't mean.

As if summoned by your thoughts, he pipes up again. "But then again, that would mean I'd be closer to you, princess," his voice barely above a teasing whisper.

You narrow your eyes at him, "If it means I get to see you in that cute little apron and not like this then sure." He lets out an amused chuckle, seemingly enjoying you playing into his conversation for once. You lean back to grab more gauze from your kit but the sound of his voice catches you off guard.

"Have you got a boyfriend?"

Despite knowing each other for a couple of months now, you and Jay actually know very little about each other - having made a silent agreement since that first night not to ask questions that were too personal. Anything that strayed beyond names, jobs and how the weather had been was off-limits. This had mostly been your way of avoiding getting too attached to him, or whatever sort of relationship you two had, since you were sure that would only end badly - and you had been glad that he respected your wishes.

Or at least he had.

"Wha-" you stutter, whipping your head back around to look at him "Why are you suddenly asking me that?"

"Well, I was just thinking, if you do, he mustn't be that happy about you getting so close with some random guy you barely know, right?" He's leaning back against the couch, eyes wandering your apartment seemingly for any sign of male presence.

"Unless," he says again, now leaning back towards you, so close you can feel his breath against your cheek as he whispers, "You haven't told him about us?" You hate how low and teasing his tone is, and whatever it is he's implying, but you hate the way you can feel your cheeks flushing under his gaze even more.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't have a boyfriend," you huff, "and it's not like there's an us for me to tell anyone about anyways unless I'm complaining about the cocky jerk that keeps bothering me every week."

"Aah, I'm surprised," he laughs to himself, brushing off your jab at him, "figured a cute thing like yourself would've been snatched up already, but I mean, I think I like being your little secret anyways, hm?"

"Just shut up and stay still."

"Yes doc," he says, amused at your reaction but doing as you say and soon the two of you fall into silence once more - you busy with placing bandaids over his face, neck and shoulders, and him watching you carefully. But the silence grows thick and heavy, and soon it's too much for even you to take.

"So," you start up, a little awkwardly, "how about you, have you got a girlfriend?"

You avoid his eye as you ask the question, already knowing exactly the kind of irritating expression he's donning.

"Oh, what happened to keeping out of each other's personal lives?" he scoffs.

"I'm just trying to make conversation, Jay," you sigh firmly.

"Well, not that it's any of your business," you bite your bottom lip as he mocks your previous response, "but no, I don't. Well, I used to, actually, she dumped me less than a week before I met you."

"Really?" you can't control the surprised tone that falls from your lips, but if you're being honest, with his looks, you're shocked he doesn't have a girlfriend - or at least several girls chasing after him.

"Yeah, well it's not easy to date a guy that comes home looking like this every other night," he laughs coolly but even as he does you can tell there's an undertone of hurt, "plus, she always wanted to go out at night and that was when I worked."

You nod slowly, "right." Your response is curt, partially because you're busy peeling a bandaid but mostly because you're not really sure of what else to say.

The conversation falls to a halt and silently you motion for him to come a little closer so that you can have a look at his split lip. It's pretty gnarly, even though you've managed to wipe up most of the blood that was coming out of it. Carefully, you run your thumb over the open wound as you inspect it but this earns a quiet hiss of pain from your patient and you pull back.

"Sorry," you mumble quickly, eyes scanning his face.

"It's alright angel," he sighs, nodding for you to continue.

You do as he says, working quickly to place a small bandaid over the lip, trying not to think too much about how you can feel his warm breaths on your gentle fingers. It doesn't help that his gaze doesn't leave you once, and every time your eyes flicker up they meet his causing your cheeks to grow embarrassingly hot.

But with that, you've finished patching up all of his injuries and can lean back with a relieved sigh as you brush your hands against each other. He sits back with a smile, watching as you pack up your kit and return it to the kitchen drawer you got it from.

"Hey, how was that exam you had?"

You pause - brows furrowing. You had mentioned that almost two weeks ago, and he remembered it?

"Oh, it went well, I'm surprised you remembered that."

"Why wouldn't I?" he says, and you'd think he was teasing you again until you poke your head around the corner and catch his earnest expression. "You told me, so I remembered."

"Well, yeah," you scoff, "but you were like half asleep and also in intense pain, I was just trying to talk to distract you from it."

He nods, his lip forming a thin line as he hangs his head with a soft laugh to himself, "Right, of course."

You feel a strange twist in your stomach, suddenly aware that maybe, for once, he wasn't trying to pry into your life for the sake of annoying you, but maybe trying to get to know you a little better. Still, the opportunity has left and now you continue your routine like always.

"So, you're all good?" you say, trailing back into the living room, "need any painkillers?" He shakes his head silently, slender fingers fiddling with the material on his pants as he bounces his knee almost impatiently.

Usually, this is the part where he leaves. Once you've served your purpose, done your job of fixing him up and exchanged small talk there's no reason for him to stick around anyway - it's not like the two of you are friends, or even know each other that well for that matter. At first, this fact seemed natural but the longer this weird relationship stretches on for, the more you find yourself dreading each of his departures. You're not sure why, since you scold him every time he reappears, but a small part of you feels a certain relief seeing him at your doorstep, even if he is struggling to hold himself up - because at least you get to see him again, even if just for one night.

"I should go, right?" he hums right on cue, looking up at you with a conflicted look - almost as if he's begging you to tell him otherwise.

"Well," you begin, chewing your bottom lip in thought, taking his silent plea to heart, "your injuries are pretty bad, so if you want you can rest here for a little longer." You rub the back of your neck in an attempt to make your request sound a little more casual than it actually is, but you should've known he'd catch on too fast.

"Are you asking me to stay the night?" He asks, the side of his mouth quirked up in an amused, but also touched, smirk.

"Don't make me change my mind, Jay," your sternness returns and he only holds his hands up in surrender as he nods with a soft laugh.

"Got it." He looks around, "is it alright if I just crash here then?"

You nod, "If you need anything just call out, alright? My room's just over there." You watch as he makes himself comfortable, stretching out across your couch which he barely fits on given his height. As he does you finally get a glimpse of the fatigue washing over him as he lays his head down on one of your fluffy pillows.

"Goodnight Jay," you call as you start making your way to your room, flicking off the living room light as you do.

"Goodnight doc," he replies in a lighthearted tone, and you pause at your doorway to get one last glance at him. He's already drifting off when you do, and despite your better judgement you can't help but smile to yourself at how peaceful he looks - a stark contrast to his usually cocky demeanour.

Maybe in another life, you two didn't meet the way you did. Maybe he had a job that didn't involve him putting his life on the line just to make a living, or you could help in a way other than just cleaning up his collateral damage, in a way that really mattered. Maybe you two could have real conversations about your days, without having to skip over the personal details. Maybe, just maybe, you might get to see him during the daytime, face illuminated by something other than your living room lamp and uninjured, for once.

But exhaustion quickly hits you too, forcing your thoughts to a stop. Settling into your own bed you couldn't help but pause to wonder if letting him stay the night was crossing the imaginary line you'd drawn since the first night, bridging the gap you'd sworn to keep between you and Jay. But as you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, the knowledge of him safe in the next room over enough to calm your mind, you find yourself strangely okay with that possibility.