#might drop some fic tonight

[reidsworld]

A Different Kind of Training

Summary: When sparring with Logan turns into something more.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: sparring, cursing, mentions of alcohol, teasing, flirting, kissing, making out, tit sucking, fingering, heavy petting, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, knife play? (the claws come out), use of Y/N, pet names (baby, bub, darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.8k

Mars speaks… Two fics in one day? What can I say, I’m a sucker for writing (and Logan Howlett). I originally wasn’t gonna write smut for this but I locked in and nearly 1.4k words of smut later, I’m happy with how it turned out! I was imagining Logan in X-Men but this gif is too hot not to use.

Masterlist

The sun was setting over Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, casting a warm, golden light through the large windows of the gym. The usual buzz of activity had quieted down, leaving you alone to get in some extra training. The silence was almost calming, a rare moment of peace after everything that had happened over the past few days.

You were lost in your thoughts, practising your kicks against a heavy bag, when the door creaked open. Without needing to look, you knew who it was. There was only one person who could move so silently yet make his presence known so effortlessly.

“Looks like someone’s been working hard,” Logan’s gruff voice came from behind you, a teasing edge to it. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

You turned, arching an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “Just trying to stay sharp. Didn’t expect you to drop in. Thought you’d be nursing a beer somewhere.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Beer can wait. Figured you could use some real training instead of beating up that bag.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, so you’re volunteering to be my punching bag?”

Logan pushed off the wall and strolled toward you, his movements fluid and controlled. There was always something captivating about the way he moved—like a predator, always aware of his surroundings, always ready to strike.

“Something like that,” he said, his voice low as he came to a stop a few feet from you. “If you think you can handle it, bub.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Big words, Wolverine. Hope you can back them up.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The session began as it always did—circling each other, testing the waters with light jabs and quick footwork. But there was an underlying tension tonight, more than usual. Maybe it was the way Logan’s eyes kept straying to your lips, or the way your heart raced every time he got close.

“You’re getting slow, old man,” you teased as you dodged a punch and spun away, landing a light tap on his shoulder.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “And you’re getting cocky. Might have to teach you a lesson.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, you both lunged forward, fists flying in a blur of motion.

The sparring intensified, the lighthearted banter replaced by focused determination. But even as you fought, there was a spark of playfulness, a dance of words and movements that only the two of you shared.

“Is that all you’ve got, bub?” Logan grunted as he blocked a kick and spun you around, his grip on your arm firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a sly smile on your lips. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego too much, Wolvie.”

His laughter was low and genuine, and it made something warm unfurl in your chest. Logan was a hard man, but moments like these—when he let his guard down, even just a little—made you feel like you were seeing the real him. The one beneath all the gruff exterior and adamantium claws.

As the session continued, you found yourself pushing harder, testing his limits just as much as your own. Each time he got close, you felt the heat of his body, the brush of his skin against yours, and it was becoming harder to focus on the fight and not on how much you wanted him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you saw your opening. With a quick feint, you managed to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat with a surprised grunt.

You didn’t waste a second, straddling him and pinning him down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’ve got you.”

Logan looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Seems so. What’s your plan now, darlin’?”

The way he said “darlin’” sent a jolt through you, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, more charged. You leaned in closer, your faces just inches apart, your breath mingling with his.

“Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Logan’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Or maybe I’ll turn the tables on you.”

The challenge in his voice was clear, and you felt your pulse quicken in response. But before you could think of a retort, Logan’s grip tightened, and with a swift, effortless movement, he flipped you over, reversing your positions so that he was the one hovering over you.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, but his eyes were soft as they searched your face. He wasn’t pinning you down, not really—there was still room for you to escape, but neither of you made a move to do so.

The tension between you was palpable now, crackling in the air like electricity. Logan’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking permission. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, but you gave a small nod, unable to find your voice.

That was all the encouragement Logan needed. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle. It was like everything that had been building between you two—the banter, the flirting, the unspoken tension—was pouring out into that one kiss.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s eyes were still closed, his grip on your hip gentle but firm as if he didn’t want to let you go, while his other hand was on the floor, positioned next to your head.

He leaned down to lay passionate but gentle kisses against your neck.

You bit your lip, suppressing the almost vile moan that was on the tip of your tongue, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move.”

Logan chuckled, raising his head to look at you. “Guess I’m not as patient as I thought.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. “Guess not.”

The mood between you had shifted, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more intimate. You felt a connection with Logan that you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.

“So, what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with a new intensity, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about we take this workout somewhere more private? I’ve got a few ideas on how to… optimise our training.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestive tone in his voice. “Lead the way,” you murmured, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Logan smirked, pulling back just enough to help you to your feet. But before you could move, he captured your lips in another heated kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. It left you breathless, your knees weak as you clung to him for support.

When he finally released you, there was a hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own. Without another word, he took your hand and led you out of the gym, his pace quick and determined. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed, too focused on the man beside you.

Logan’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was filled with a quiet intensity as you both entered, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Logan’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with an unspoken promise. He stepped closer, his rough hands finding your waist, pulling you gently towards him. The world outside seemed to fade away as you stood there, the anticipation crackling between you.

You looked up at him, your heart racing, as his hands slid up your back, his touch both firm and tender. “So, this is your idea of a private training session?” you teased, your voice breathless.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Just thought we could continue our workout in a more…personal setting.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s lips were on yours, his kiss fierce and hungry. The sudden intensity took your breath away, but you melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as you kissed him back with equal fervour.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he wanted to absorb every inch of you. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. The roughness of his hands contrasted with the softness of your skin, creating a delicious tension that only heightened the experience.

Logan’s lips were warm and insistent, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse quicken. He gently pushed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, the heat and strength of him undeniable. You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his.

The kiss was a dance of passion and exploration, each touch and caress filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Logan’s hands slid down to your hips, his grip strong and possessive as he pressed you closer against him. You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles, and it only made you want him more.

“Jump,” Logan said, though it sounded more like a grunt than actual words. As you jump, his arms catch you, holding you by both of your legs as your hands threaded through his hair. You could feel him straining against his pants while he walked you over to the bed. You looked up at him with a smirk from where he tossed you on the bed. You slowly begin to undress, leaving you bare in front of him with the exception of your bra and panties.

“Stunning,” He muttered under his breath as he stared at you in a trance. His hand travelled down to his aching bulge, palming himself at the sight of you.

“Just gonna stand there and stare or are ya gonna do something, Wolvie.”

He let out an almost animalistic growl as he climbed on top of you, capturing your lips with his. His rough hands hands felt smooth against your skin as they travelled across your body. He pulls away from you, looking at his hands as his claws come out. He gently slides a claw under your bra, snapping it, freeing your breasts.

His claws retract and discard the bra across the room. His head quickly dives down to your tits, mouth latching onto one of your hard nipples as his hand kneads at the neglected breast. A yelp escapes your lips as he gently bites down on your nipple.

Your hands twine themselves in his hard, tugging gently as he moves his attention to your other breast. As he focuses on your breast, he shifts so that his elbow is holding him up while playing with your breast. His free hand slides down your body, slipping into your panties.

His fingers brush over your clit, making you let out a very solicited moan. His fingers run up your slit, making him groan.

“Fuck, you're already so wet and I’ve barely done anything yet, bub,” you let out an almost pathetic whimper in response. You feel him rut against your leg, attempting to get some much-needed relief. One of your hands leaves his hair and moves to push off his pants before planning him through his underwear, earning a groan from his lips.

You gasp as you feel one of his thick fingers enter you, pumping and curling in and out. It feels so good, all you can do is moan out his name. Looking into your eyes, he pulls you into a kiss as another finger slips into you. He swallows your moan with his mouth.

“Logan, ‘m so close baby,” you moan into his lips before whimpering at the loss of contact as his hand pulls your of you.

“Need to be inside you, want you to cum around my cock, darlin’” he says making you nod quickly, pulling your hand away from his groin.

He stands up, pulling off his boxers. As his cock frees, it slaps against his stomach and you almost whimper at the sheer size of it. His claws slowly extend out of his fist. He crawls back on top of you before using one of his claws to gently rip off your panties.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks up at you for approval.

“Please Logan just fuck me already.”

Gently and slowly, he pushes himself inside of you. His head falls back at the feeling of you around him. You wince at the slight sting from the size of him. He slows down and looks at you. You nod at him and moan as he bottoms out.

The two of you stay still for a minute as you adjust to him.

“Ok, you can move now, Lo.”

“How d’ya want it darlin’?” his raspy voice sounds out, making you even wetter.

“Rough baby, I thought this was supposed to be private training not–,” you tease him but are quickly cut off by your own moan as he roughly pulls out to the tip before slamming back in. His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulder before moving to tightly grip the pillows next to your head. Your arms move up my your head, loosely wrapping around his.

The room is filled with loud moans and grunts as he fucks you. One of his hands moves down to circle your clit, making you cry out at the feeling. He drops one of your legs off his shoulder, changing the angle slightly.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you scream out as he pistons into your sweet spot. He throws his head back with a loud growl as your pussy clenches around him.

“Holy shit bub, so fuckin’ tight, wrapping around me just right.”

You hear the loud noise of his claws right next to your head as they extend into the bed. He uses them to give him more leverage as he fucks you harder, making you arch your back.

“‘M so close baby,” you moan into his ear as his head drops to your neck.

He doesn’t give up his relentless pace as he brings you closer to your orgasm. The sounds of his feral grunts in your ear throw you over the mess, making you scream as your insides tighten and you cum around his cock.

“Almost there,” he says as his thrusts become sloppier and his dick twitches inside of you.

“Where d’ya want it?”

“Inside, please,” you say, desperately.

Logan moves to kiss your tender lips roughly as he cums in you with a loud groan. His thrusts slow down before he comes to a stop. He drops on top of you with heavy breaths as you both lie there in silence.

Slowly pulling out of you, Logan rolls onto his back next to you before you both turn your heads to look at each other. He grins at your fucked-out expression.

“That was even better than I imagined,” he admits.

“Same,” you agree as you lean over to kiss him, smiling against his lips and muttering as you pull away,

“This was definitely a different kind of training, but I think that I still need a little more work on my form, think ya could help?”

Mars speaks... (again) I don't think I've ever locked in more than I did for writing the smut part of this. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[afterglowsainz]

is it over now? | carlos sainz

pairing: singer!reader x carlos sainz

summary: you decide to release a breakup song on your ex boyfriend’s birthday, one year after the break up

fc: riley keough

warning: some grammatical errors in the tweets that i was too lazy to fix sorryyy

a/n: me??? writing a carlos fic??? the stars must’ve aligned

—

liked by ynupdates, f1wags and others

f1gossip it’s been officially one year since carlos sainz and y/n y/l/n broke up

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username it’s been a year already?? 🤯

username nooo don’t bring the memories back 😭

username i’m never getting over this breakup :( they were so meant for each other

username i have no perception of time why did i thought they broke up like a month ago?

username and not one single breakup song from y/n…

username no i’m waiting for the album

username we really are delusional huh

liked by landonorris, taylorswift and others

yourusername my favorite type of night 🖤🥁🎤

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username MOTHER

username best concert eveeeer

username and you know the one about releasing the album ???

username what a WOMAN ugh

username i don’t understand you carlos sainz

username how did he fumbled so hard 😭

username the aesthetic is everything

username so beautiful so gorgeous so ethereal

liked by f1wags and others

f1gossip carlos sainz was spotted with a new date at the monte-carlo opens

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username uhhh ….

username i wish i could say “that quick?” but to be fair it’s been a year

username bestie weren’t you there after they broke up?

username he literally went on a date five minutes after they ended things 😭

username and he told you that personally?

username so it’s really over with y/n huh

username i mean … yeah!

username noooo lord please bring back the family as we know it (carlos and y/n)

username this is the worst type of news i could’ve got

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and others

yourusername i hope you’re in the mood for new music … because my new single “is it over now?” drops today at midnight 🕊 thank you to my amazing girlfriends for writing this song with me and having the most fun at the studio

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username now that’s what i’m talking about

username new music at last omg i could cry

username okay but THAT COAT !!!!

username i need her whole wardrobe actually

username girl not on you ex’s BIRTHDAY 🤣

username dare i say … carlos song?

username crossing my fingers

username ohhh she knew what she was doing with this release date

username not only during carlos’s birthday but also right after he was seen on a date with a new girl

username i aspire to be THIS level of petty one day

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and others

carlossainz55 really great weekend! thanks for the birthday wishes❤️

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username pookie how are we feeling after y/n’s song?

charles_leclerc happy birthday! wanna get three thousand takeout coffees? (liked by carlossainz55)

username i didn’t wanna get mad cause it’s his birthday but like …. i’m gonna need you to pay for your crimes mate

username no cause the song was crazyyyy

username “you search in every model’s bed for something greater” ma’am ???

username it was the “your new girl is my clone” for me

username “if she’s got blue eyes i will surmise that you’ll probably date her” ….

username carlos just answer the question

liked by reyesvdec, fernandoalo_official and others

yourusername forever in love with this city <3

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username MADRID 🤍

username my city my city !!!

username reyes liking this 🥹

username that’s her girl fr!

username sooo excited for tonight’s concert

username ahhh can’t wait to see her

username if she sings is it over now? tonight i might actually faint

username imagine her singing this at the city of the guy she wrote it for 😭

username poetic

liked by f1gossip, f1wags and others

ynupdates carlos sainz was in attendance at y/n’s concert tonight in madrid

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username say again?

username he has two moods only: happy and confused

username what the hell is he doing there 😭😭

username does this means what i think it means ???

username ahhh the second picture is mine! it was so random to see him there haha

username girl if you don’t start talking right now !!!

username was he with his new girlfriend?

username nooo he was with his family only

username you really can’t make this up 😭

username he listened to that song and was ready to risk it all

username who wouldn’t!

liked by carlossainz55, georgerusell63 and others

yourusername one of my favorite cities with one of my favorite crowds 🇪🇸 madrid you never disappoint 🤍

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username y/n if you’re trying to make me fall in love with you it’s working

username name a more iconic concert quick!

username literally the gold dust woman

username THE OUTFITS THE SETLIST THE LOOKS UGHHH

carmenmmundt 🤍🤍🤍 (liked by yourusername)

username forever obsessed with her aesthetic

username not to start anything but carlos liking this… 👀

username i meaaan the guy was at the concert …

username this night will go down in history

liked by f1wags, ynupdates and others

f1gossip carlos sainz and ex girlfriend y/n y/l/n have been seen together recently in numerous occasions

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username of course they are going on dates OF COURSE THEY ARE

username and all it took was one year and a single song from y/n

username no bc i’m sure if she released that a year ago they would’ve been together by now

username so it was NOT over gotcha

username are we witnessing the comeback of y/n and carlos in real time?

username god i never ask you much but i’m asking you this one thing

username when ynupdates likes this so you know it’s serious

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and others

carlossainz55 some people have asked me recently if it’s over now? the answer is of course not 😊

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username “some people” you mean your literal ex-girlfriend ???

username GIRLFRIEND NOW ***

username i can’t with the 😊 he thinks he’s so funny

username idk why they broke up in the first place but if all it took for them to get back together was y/n releasing a song and carlos going to her concert let me tell you …

username i think what really did it for him was the fact that she released it on his birthday 😭

username they’re just obsessed with each other i guess 🤷🏽‍♀️

yourusername oh i knew it wasn’t! just wanted to know what you thought 😁

carlossainz55 i love you let’s never do that again ❤️

username she’s so real 😭😭

username MY PARENTS BACK TOGETHER AT LAST💖

[augustinewrites]

satoru bday fic! cw: suggestive

gojo thinks he should be nominated for boyfriend of the year.

not only had he managed to get the kids to school on time, pick up the groceries, get all his reports in to principal yaga, and clean the kitchen, but he’d managed to do it all while extremely hungover on his birthday. 

he’d even managed to do it all before you’d even gotten out of bed.

he doesn’t blame you for sleeping in. the impromptu birthday party he’d thrown had left you all in quite the state by the early hours of morning. you need the re—

“satoru! could you come in here for a second?”

“coming!” he calls back, shoving the coupon that’d fallen from shoko’s birthday card into his wallet before making his way to the bedroom. “hey, let’s get some frozen yogurt when the kids get ho— holy shit.”

your face breaks out into a grin of triumph at his sudden silence. gojo’s rightfully stunned, carefully studying each bit of revealing lace and the way it sits against your body before committing it to memory. 

“is that…”

“the set you had commissioned in paris,” you hum, nonchalant as you drag your fingertips up your hip. “that’s the one.”

he takes a few slow steps toward where you are and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, arousal warming his whole body. “but you said you’d never wear it because—”

“because i was saving it for something special,” you finish, leaning up and shifting towards him. “like your birthday.” 

“well,” he sighs as you close the distance between you. “i should unwrap my gift then.”

“please try not to tear it,” you murmur as his lips brush over your pulse. “i’d very much like to wear it again, and i, oh, i saw the charge on the credit card…”

his reply is no more than a distracted hum as you shift onto his lap, allowing curious hands to explore your body and hungry lips to move against yours. 

the lace is soft on your skin, his hands eagerly working to undo the ties holding up delicate florals and sheer material. 

“satoru, i need you.” your breath is warm against his skin, exciting him more as he goes to pull off garter belt.

“uh, babe?”

“hm?”

“how do you take this off?”

_____

“well, i connected it to this piece—”

“but we can’t take this piece off unless we take this one off too. that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“i’m telling you, that’s how i put it on.”

“then why won’t it come off?”

it’s then that gojo decides custom lingerie should come with instructions. when he’d designed it, he hadn��t actually considered the logistics of this operation.

“okay,” you huff, turning around and placing your hands on his shoulders. “you’re just going to have to tear it.”

“fine by me,” he grins, slightly smug as he curls his fingers around the expensive material and tears—

the two of you scramble up when the front door slams open. it’s in that moment you realize that satoru hadn’t closed the bedroom door. 

“mom!” you hear megumi shout, his stomps echoing through the apartment. “tsumiki ate one of my snacks!”

“shit, fuck.” cursing, you grab his discarded t-shirt and slip it on before jumping into bed. satoru slips in next to you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and pressing against you from behind.

“satoru!” you hiss when you feel something poke the back of your thigh. 

“we just made out for like ten minutes,” he whispers back, only pulling you closer. “you didn’t think i’d get one?”

“put it away!”

“i could, but—”

you manage to summon one of your divine dogs in time for it push the bedroom door closed, breathing a sigh of relief when the kid’s footsteps come to a halt. 

“we’ll be out in a second!” you call, hearing their hushed argument as they trudge back to the kitchen.

“i might need more than a second…”

you hit satoru in the face with a pillow. “you’ll get the rest of your birthday gift tonight, after you drop the kids off at nanami’s.

[avocado-writing]

Not sure if this is enough to go off of but I loved the poly!poolverine fic where they rescued the reader. I was wondering if we could get some more of them being protective of the reader 🙏🏻

The bar is pretty crowded tonight. You nurse a rum and coke and hope Logan and Wade are able to find you in the corner booth you managed to snag, because you know the second you go to order another some opportunistic patrons will take your spot - and you’ve been on your feet all day at work so there’s no way in hell you’ll let that happen.

You take a sip. It’s warm now, ice long since melted in the heat of the room. You grimace at the taste as someone slides onto the bench next to you. 

It is not one of your boys. 

“Hey, baby.”

He’s big. Kinda guy who goes to the gym every day big, which isn’t inherently bad - but from the way he uses his size to press up against you there’s a little bit of unease rising in your chest. He puts his elbow on the table so that he can rest his jaw in his hand, biceps flexing in the tight shirt he wears. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” you say, as calmly as you can, hoping this will deter him. It does not. 

“So? We can have a little talk, can’t we? Not hurting anybody.”

His hand goes to cover yours where it rests on the table. You snatch it back. He frowns. 

“Dunno who you’re waiting for, but they probably shouldn’t have left you here alone. Looks like they don’t care about you, honey.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, annoyed, deciding it’s not worth it. He won’t go so you will. You slide out the free side of the booth - but you’re forced to stop when he grabs your wrist. 

“I wasn’t done talking to you yet,” he says. Okay. Now you’re panicking. You manage to shake yourself free of his grasp and quickly push through the throng of people, hoping to lose him in the crowd. No such luck. He knows where you’re heading. 

The air is cold on the street as you speed up; not running, never running, that might incite a chase. He’s on your heels anyway. 

“Hey, are you just gonna keep ignoring me?”

“I told you I’m not interested!”

He grabs you again, harder this time. A grip you can’t break free from. 

“You know, you should learn not to be such a bitch —”

“Oh! Isn’t this fun! Sorry to interrupt this little show of misogyny in action but it’d be great if you could let go of our pookie.”

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Wade’s voice. Suddenly you’ve got someone either side of you: the brick which is Logan on your left, and the snark which is Wade on your right. 

The guy who’s holding you does not drop your arm. He frowns. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“They’re who I was waiting for,” you say quickly, as if this will deter him. The man laughs, loudly, cruelly.

“Sorry, you’re in some kinda threesome with this old fucker and whatever this dude is? Fuck, honey, you really need someone to show you what a real man—”

He does not get a chance to finish. Logan’s fist has collided with his face with such ferocity you can hear his nose break. The man yelps and staggers backwards, you bring your hand to your chest for safety. 

“Should’ve let go, bub,” he mutters, massaging his knuckles. Wade deflates. 

“Aw, I wanted to get the first hit in!” He peers over at where the guy is laid out flat. “Go on, get back up. If I don’t throw a punch it emasculates me, and I’m very sensitive about it.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his sleeve. 

“Let’s just go, guys. I don’t think he’s gonna follow us.”

“One sec.”

Wade strolls over and puts his boot on the guy’s chest, pushing down until he’s wheezing.

“You wanna apologise?”

The guy groans out a sorry, and you give a curt nod when Wade turns to see if you’ve accepted it.

“Don’t do this bullshit again, with anyone, or I’m gonna find you, rip your dick off, then feed it to my adorable, hideous dog.”

They cage in around you as your turn, two loyal hounds at your beck and call. You throw a couple of glances over your shoulder as you leave but it’s as you suspected: the guy remains on the cold concrete. When you’re far enough away to feel safe they slow to a stop. 

“You okay?” Logan asks, lifting your chin with a finger so that he can get a good look at you. You nod. 

“Yeah. Thanks for being there in time.”

“I’m sorry baby, we should have got here earlier, but peanut here tore a guy’s arm off so we had to go and clean up first—”

“Oh god, stop,” you say, pulling a face. You don’t want to know about their line of work, very happy for the business and personal life gulf to be a wide one. “Let’s go get some pizza and head home.”

“Anything you want,” says Logan, squeezing your hand. 

Anything where you’re between them is what you want. Safe and happy, they’ll make sure you’re both. 

[luveline]

How about Steve with a reader who already has a kid? Like they're in their twenties and she has maybe 2 or 3 year old. Her ex isn't in the picture so it's just her. Maybe the fic is Steve finally getting to meet readers son/ daughter. Maybe she has to leave their date earlier due to a babysitter problem and Steve just comes along with her and they spend the night together.

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 2k

“Try not to show fear,” you’re saying, your hand pulled tight against his. He savours the softness of it even as the concrete steps to your house force you apart. 

“I’m not scared.” 

“I’m just saying, Steve. Toddlers know when you’re scared.” 

“But I’m not scared.” Steve has handled worse than toddlers. If your kid is anything like you, this will be a walk in the park. 

You grin at him and give him one of your cute shrugs, though shyness he recognises from your first date stiffens your shoulders again as you open your front door. 

Your home is small. The first thing he notices is the cramped space walking in, the tight stairs, but the second thing he notices is the amount of life, photographs that deck the walls and colour everywhere, clothes folded and waiting to be taken upstairs, little shoes in a stand by an open bathroom door. 

“Melanie?” you call. “You okay?” 

Melanie appears in the door with a huge watery frown, who Steve assumes to be your young son smiling on her hip, unperturbed. “I’m so sorry.” 

She’d been incoherent on the phone, though eventually squeezed out that it was nothing wrong with Noah. Melanie’s boyfriend appears to have broken up with her over the phone. 

You scoop Noah off of his babysitter's hip, holding him with far more ease. He drops his face with affection to the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s a shame you and Steve had to come home —you’re wearing the nicest dress he’s ever seen. But not a shame, because Steve’s excited to meet the baby. 

You could’ve sent him home. He assumes this means some level of trust and, better, permanency. If all goes well, he might be able to ask you to go steady soon. He’d love to do it tonight. 

“Don’t worry, Melanie, you can’t help it if something bad happens, can you? I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. Do you need me to drive you home?” 

Melanie sniffles miserably. “No, that’s okay, I can drive. I’m sorry.” 

You rub her arm. “It’s okay, really. We were just gonna have dinner and head home.” 

Steve internalises his reaction to that tidbit well. Melanie gives him a sad smile and passes by, her shoes heavy and smacking as she leaves with a mumbled farewell. 

“She’s a little emotional,” you say sympathetically, before turning your attention to the sleepy kid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Noah, guess you’re stuck with mommy and her new friend. Do you want to say hi?” 

Noah lifts his head, following your hand where you point at Steve, a smile like yours on his lips. 

Steve genuinely isn’t scared of kids, he loves them, and he loves talking to them. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you.” 

You hum appreciatively. “Go on, say hi to Steve.” 

“Hi,” Noah says quietly. 

Your voice is different around the baby, not any less pretty but softer, and quieter. It has Steve lowering his own voice in an attempt to mimic you. “Hi, bud.” 

“He’s my new best friend,” you explain, ushering Steve closer, your hand touching gently to his shoulder. 

Noah’s even more your image now he’s closer, all your eyes and smile and brightness, but he’s got someone else’s nose, and he’s got a bad case of yawns. You laugh at his scrunched nose, wiping your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. “You want to go to bed, sweet boy?” you ask. 

“No… buppy.” 

“You want your buppy. Okay, I’ll get it for you.” You pull your arm through Steve’s. “Let’s go.” 

He laughs and goes happily. Your kitchen is empty compared to the hallway, it’s surprising, but then you open a cabinet for the aforementioned bubby and a couple of things come tumbling out. “Whoops,” you say, popping Noah down on the floor. “Can you put those away for me, please? Thank you.” 

Noah tries his best, but everything he puts in comes tumbling back out, earning a few high-pitched giggles. You crack the fridge open for a pint of cows milk. 

“He doesn’t have formula?” 

“No, you can give them whole milk after a year, but he doesn’t really need it anymore, it’s just to help him self-soothe at nighttime.” 

“Mom, I can’t do it,” Noah laughs. Steve thinks that great, that laughing. He could’ve had a tantrum (Steve wouldn’t blame him). 

Steve crouches down. “Can I help?” 

Noah gives Steve a smile, eyes squinting nearly entirely shut. “Yes.” 

“Okay, awesome. Looks like your mom needs more cabinets for all your stuff.” He starts to pick up the pieces. 

“I need a whole new house,” you say, filling the bottle about three quarters before sticking it in your microwave uncapped. You set the timer for fifteen seconds and prop your chin in your hand, elbow on the counter. Steve thinks it’s your best angle yet, your dress, your arms, the friendly smile you’re wearing that hasn’t once ebbed since the first date. It all gets his chest in a twist. 

He knows getting your baby to like him is make or break. And he really wants to give this a shot, you and him, you and Noah. He thinks you’d be good together. (Maybe he’s crazy and too forward, but you really are beautiful in your dress.) 

“How’s that?” he asks, closing the cabinet behind a tower of bottles and baby bowls.

“Perfect! Good job, baby,” Noah says, tapping Steve on the knee. 

Steve snorts. “Thank you.” 

“He’s going through a phase of saying everything I say,” you explain, yanking open the microwave to test the milk on the back of your hand. 

You deem the milk sufficiently warmed and offer Noah your hand, swiping a takeout menu from the fridge as you pass, and once again grabbing Steve by the arm to drag him along. He’s content to be dragged. You lead everyone into the living room, and he’s again surprised by how small it is. 

You catch his look. “Are you judging me, Harrington?” 

“What? No? Of course not.”

“Messing with you. There’s an extension out back, on the kitchen? That’s where I keep the rest of the toys.” You drop down onto the couch with a sigh. “Come here, babe, come cuddle with mommy.” 

If Noah weren’t in earshot, Steve would make a joke about how he hopes you aren’t talking to him. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t.

You lay back and Noah climbs up onto one side of you, his hands out ready for his bottle, while your arm stretches out for Steve. “Come ‘n’ sit.” 

Steve sits knee to knee with you. He’s not scared of kids, and he isn’t scared of you, either. He knows exactly what he wants, and he isn’t afraid to let you know it, taking your hand where it lies open on your thigh. 

“What were you gonna get?” you ask, nodding to the takeout menu. 

“I don’t know, I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve says. 

“What if you don’t like what I’m having?” 

“I’ll learn.” 

You tip your chin up at him, beaming. “Yeah? What if I like something completely unamerican?” 

“I gotta learn sometime, right?” He squeezes your fingers nicely. 

“Well, my Noah likes everything.” You kiss Noah’s forehead, stealing his attention from his bottle, bright eyes tracing your face and then your hand where Steve is rubbing the back of it. 

“Then he can have some of everything.”

You and Steve share a loving smile. Smiles smiles smiles, everybody’s getting on, this is the best sixth date anyone’s ever had, best date full stop, though your fifth date was a close second. You and Steve had spent hours together in a park in the city eating picnic foods and soaking in the sun together, your nose brushing off of his ribs, his jacket balled up under your head. He’d kissed you twice that night when you finally, sorrily had to go home, and you’d said, Aw, I really like you, as you held hands on the stoop. He should’ve asked you then to give it a proper go, but now he’s met Noah he figures it’s as good a time as any. 

“Hey,” Steve begins, clearing his throat, “would you–”

“Woh!” Noah shouts around the teet of his bottle. It falls from his lips. “We wiw hands,” he garbles, a bunch of baby flavoured gibberish as he leans over your stomach to cover your hand where it’s held in Steve’s. “Mom!” 

“What, babe?” 

“My hand!” 

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Mom!” he says, slapping your hands insistently with his own. 

Steve loosens your fingers, leaving a gap between your palms. “Quick, bud, put your hand in.” 

Noah climbs onto your leg and presses his hand into the fold, though he grows annoyed at the weird fit, and immediately starts to sniffle. Steve winces, but you’re used to it. “Aw, don’t start the waterworks. Come on, what happened to sharing? We’re good sharers.” 

Steve lets go of your hand. He’s reluctant, sure, but he doesn’t wanna be on anyone’s bad side. Noah cries for a few seconds like he’s forgotten why he’s upset, but he sees your open palm and the cog finishes turning. 

“Hold mommy’s hand,” you say, wiggling your fingers. 

Noah thinks about it. He ends up on his side across your leg staring at you, then at Steve, who smiles at him cheerfully. “He’s so handsome,” Steve says. “He has your face. Guess that’s why you’re so handsome, huh?” He shakes his head at Noah gently. “‘Cos you got all your good looks from your mommy.”

“He knows what that means,” you preen, leaning down to speak closer to Noah’s ear. “Don’t you? You’re my handsome boy.” 

Noah puts his hand in Steve’s with another tinkling laugh. 

“Oh! I see how it is, you wanna be Steve’s friend too. Can’t let me have anything for myself, can you?” 

“No,” Noah says cheekily. 

Steve collects Noah’s little hand in his. “Good!” he says. “You should get everything you want, just like mom.”

“Think so?” you ask. 

Steve nods. 

You cover Noah’s eyes with your hand and move up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Like you?” you ask. 

Steve’s just stoked to have someone he likes actually like him back at the same level. Noah squirms away from your hand to squeeze Steve’s tighter. Two someones. 

“Like me,” he says, grinning. 

“Mommy, kiss!” Noah says urgently. “Kiss!” 

You pull your gaze from Steve’s. “Sorry, I’m sorry! Come here, baby, I’ll give you a kiss too. I guess I’m gonna be giving double the kisses I used to, my poor chapped lips.” You kiss kiss kiss Noah across the forehead. 

Steve flusters thinking about it, making a mental note to get you some chapstick. He’d go pretty crazy for a crown of kisses like that. 

[fangswbenefits]

Everything

Summary: You're used to staying still whenever Astarion feeds on you. This time, he wants you to feel everything.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Vampire bite. Blood drinking. Blood kink. Inappropriate use of tadpoles. Dry humping if you squint. Handjob. Innuendo. PiV. Creampie. Precum.

Word count: 3.2k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: At the time of posting this fic (Feb 11th), I was unaware of a fic by @bhaalism that had been posted on Feb 6th and that some similarities are present, even if totally unbeknownst to me. It was not consciously done, but I can understand how some people might see it differently. I've discussed the matters privately with Kita and, as such, here's the link to their fic so you can check them out and appreciate their work!

I also want to emphasise that no negative behaviour should come of this (in either direction) as we've both discussed matters privately, and no one else has to get involved!

You've done this so many times before that it feels as natural as second nature.

It feels right.

If the multiple scrolls of Lesser Restoration are anything to go by, this is meant to be a prolonged feeding session.

You don't mind.

And by the looks of it, neither does Astarion as he pulls you by the waist to sit more comfortably on his lap.

He has this ritual of sorts with you. It would be so easy to tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to his bite and let him feed comfortably, but he takes his time.

And you know it's only a matter of time before you start feeling it.

“You can just feed, you know?” you purr, pressing your forehead against his.

As expected, he huffs in feigned annoyance.

“Gods, are you about to lecture me with the ‘don't play with your food’ nonsense, darling?” he bites out dramatically, but you do know he enjoys a good tease.

“Maybe I should,” you say, swirling the soft curls at the nape of his neck around your finger. “You need to feed, after all.”

A devious smile curves his lips and you pull back to slip from his lap.

But he immediately halts you halfway with a firm grip on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin and holding you in place.

Oh?

This is new.

And that's when you first feel it twitch for the first time.

It's no surprise that Astarion gets easily hard with you and for you. In fact, it doesn't take much effort at all. It's as if his body is set to react to yours in unfathomable ways. 

But when you press down softly against him, and the motion earns a groan from him and yet another twitch from his cock, you know this is different.

Usually, he feeds on you as you lay flat on your bed, making use of the comfort a mattress can provide as he drinks your blood.

It is easy and quick and enough.

But tonight, it seems that Astarion has other plans and his lustful gaze paired with his hardening cock are proof enough.

He is evidently hungry for more than just your blood.

“As much as I adore you under me,” he begins, gaze dropping to your shirt, “I think I'd rather have you on top of me this time.”

Your hands come to grip his shoulders for balance, and your eyes widen slightly. “Why?”

A gentle tug at the laces of your nightdress nearly breaks your concentration, but you somehow manage to keep your composure as his crimson eyes find yours.

“Why not? Why shouldn't this delicacy be shared?” he asked with another tug and you felt the fabric  at your chest begin to loosen. “You should enjoy it, too, darling. And I want you to feel everything.”

He emphasises his words with a final pull that brings your nightdress fully apart, unravelling your breasts to his hungry gaze. They heave in unison with your quickened breathing and it's enough to transfix him.

You can't necessarily feel it, but you are certain his cock just got harder just as blood rushes downwards, swelling your clit.

The shift in temperature causes your nipples to slowly harden and that is what makes him groan.

“Enjoying the view?”

He nods. “You can feel how much I do.”

You feigned ignorance. “I don't think I can.”

The grip on your waist tightens and he pulls you against his cock, the flimsy fabric of your undergarments allowing your clit to drag along his covered length.

Hard and needy.

“You were saying…?”

Smug and cheeky and infuriating.

Three adjectives that fall short to fully grasp how he is with you when it comes to intimacy, but it's a good place to start.

He's good and he knows it and he wants you to validate him every step of the way.

“Connect your tadpole with mine,” he says unexpectedly.

“What? Why?”

“You know why.”

You do and it baffles you that he even suggested it in the first place. Connecting tadpoles intimately  is reserved for when privacy is a guarantee. And being inside one of the many rooms at the Elfsong Tavern offers everything but privacy.

“We're at a tavern, Astarion…”

He quirks an eyebrow, bucking his hips upwards ever so slightly. “Yes, I'm aware. Your point being…?”

“We'll be heard.”

“Do you not intend on being loud?”

Your mouth falls agape at the nerve. Silence is never an option with him. He takes pride in how he makes you feel, knowing fully well he's ruined you for anyone else.

“Would you have it any other way?” 

His cock twitches in response, but it's the way his half-hooded eyes roam deliciously slow across your face that makes you clench.

“And miss the opportunity to inconvenience our next-door neighbours?” he tuts with a smirk that bares his fangs. “I don't think so.”

In the midst of all the lust-heavy words and slow hip rolls, you manage out a chuckle.

“You're vicious. Shadowheart and Lae'zel will definitely not appreciate the midnight ruckus.”

He bucks his hips so that your face gets close enough for your lips to brush.

“And what exactly are they going to do, hmm?” he says with a smirk. “Kill me?”

Before you can answer, he leans in and captures your bottom lip in between his teeth. The suddenness of it all, makes you flinch back and when a fang grazes the frail skin, it draws blood.

It stings enough for you to curse, and you see his hungry gaze admiring the droplet that pools on your lip.

“They could do much worse to you,” you tease with a giggle, proving your point by denying him the taste of your blood when he leans in again.

He lets out a low rumble of disapproval as he slumps against the headboard. “If by ‘worse’ you mean ‘whispering healing prays and hurling nonsensical curse words’, then I agree. A torment,” he feigned pain dramatically.

There is something oddly satisfying about teasing Astarion to the brink of frustration.

You almost feel inclined to satisfy his bloodlust, but decide against it, wiping the droplet with a swipe of your tongue.

That immediately earns a deep frown from him and an obnoxious click of his tongue. “Honestly, what a waste.”

“Then be nice,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

Astarion's hips buck and you're sure your undergarments are soaked enough for the wetness to seep through the fabric of his trousers. If he feels it, he doesn't say. 

When you pull away, there's a faint stain of blood on his lower lip, which he pulls in between his teeth to suckle on it gently.

The sight is enough to have you roll your hips twice.

Suddenly, he looks uncharacteristically serious. “Connect your tadpole with mine.”

There is urgency in his voice and you can only assume he is past warming up and ready to move on to the next step. 

And you're not one to deny the offer of a good time if there is a promise that him feeding on you can be pleasurable to you as well.

You allow your mind to stir the dorment tadpole, urging it to find his.

It is rather simple and you've done it before with him during your sexual endeavours. But this is different. It already feels different. It's as if the worm knows this connection bears other purposes.

Astarion lets out a groan when his body meets yours through his mind.

The tug inside your head is enough to draw a breathy gasp as you are made aware of his intentions.

He wants your hand.

Your… hand?

Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but not for long enough as his hand pulls yours from his shoulder.

And what he does next makes you clench so hard, you feel a gush of wetness drip from you.

“I want you to feel it – everything – as I feast on your blood,” he purrs, placing your hand around his throat.

Oh.

The tadpole squirms in anticipation as you feel his cock throbbing in your mind and against your clothed clit.

His skin is cool to the touch but it quickly heats up under your palm and, with his other hand, he undoes the laces of his trousers with unmatched dexterity.

You gasp as his thoughts bleed into you, allowing you to know what he expects next.

This time, he doesn't need to utter aloud his intentions.

You can hear him inside your head and you find yourself utterly unable to look away from his piercing eyes.

Take it out and grip it, darling.

Your hips buck, driven by pure instinct as you comply with his request. A shaky hand reaching down and tugging at the fabric of his own undergarments, and in one swift motion, you free his cock.

As expected, he immediately welcomes your grip with a thrust, and you feel just how hard and wet he already is.

His cock is still cool to the touch, but you know that is about to change soon enough.

With a gentle squeeze, his eyes flutter shut, head tilting back slightly as he adjusts to your touch.

It doesn't take long for a thick bead of precum to roll down his length before reaching your knuckles.

Inside your head, your tadpole shudders and you're sure it's because he wants to feel how swollen your clit is for him.

It pulsates rhythmically and Astarion growls with a smirk.

He adores feeling your clit.

Just as you adore feeling how stiff his cock can get in your hand and in your mind.

“You're already quite hard already,” you say, doing a laughable poor job at keeping your voice steady.

“I can get harder,” he says and you feel his voice rumbling against your palm.

You clench in sheer reflex. Mostly because you know he can and will.

Instinctively, you let out a soft moan from the delicious friction. 

And it's enough to have Astarion's ego soar high enough that it pulls the most devilishly alluring smirk from his lips.

After all, he never misses the chance to remind you that it is your blood that makes his cock thicker and warmer and harder.

Astarion finally opens his eyes again and brings his hand to your face, fingers tracing your jawline before he tips your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

Hold on tight, darling.

He cranes his head and he plants a fleeting kiss below your ear, as he grazes his cool lips along the length of your neck. By now, he knows your pulse points by heart, so when he finds one, his fangs break skin and sink into your inviting flesh.

Out of reflex, you grip his cock tighter and he lets out a muffled groan.

No matter how many times you allow him to feed on you, the initial uncomfortable feeling is always there and it lingers until his lips wrap around the bleeding wounds.

And when he begins to suckle hungrily, downing mouthfuls of your blood, you nearly moan from the way you can feel it under your palm.

Your tadpole allows you to be aware of your blood rushing and coursing through his body at a steady pace and when it finally reaches his lower half, a faint pulse stirs his cock.

Immediately, you clench, frustrated that it's around nothing, but you quickly brush the disappointment aside as you finally understand why he wanted your hands around him.

He swallows your blood at a rhythm that matches the throb in his cock, and inside your head you can feel it beat in unison with the one in your clit.

It's your blood that brings him alive in more ways than one.

Warmth spreads across your palm and fingers and the veins that snake around his length begin to bulge as your blood fills them.

Tighter… tighter… tighter.

He repeats it like a prayer that he hopes you can answer.

He's so lost in you that his senses blur and he becomes one with you.

You try your best to comply, the back of your hand soaked with precum, as he hardens even more.

In between your legs, your clit swells up as if in response and you're so wet you're sure he'd be able to slide his cock inside with little to no effort.

How is it possible? How…

The connection allows him to hear your thoughts and he groans in response, rolling his hips at a clumsy and broken pace.

Astarion's concentration is hanging on by a thread. You can hear him curse in sheer frustration as he tries to hold on to some semblance of control.

But he gets too drunk in your blood and he is unable to keep his focus.

It doesn't help that your own arousal is spilling into his mind and mixing with his own.

A double-edged sword.

He wanted you to feel him as he feeds on you, and now he's stuck having to withstand double the arousal and the pleasure that your blood provides.

The first loud growl comes from him and you feel your grip around his cock loosen as he thickens.

Your walls flutter and he feels it, bringing one hand down to close around yours, ensuring you grip him firmly once again.

You keep clenching like that and I…

His next words aren' heard in your head and you feel your body begin the inevitable battle between overwhelming pleasure and the numbness that always comes whenever he feeds.

A faint growl slips past your lips and it quickly morphs into a strangled cry that echoes around the room.

You want to call out his name and warn him… warn him that your body can't take much more bloodloss and arousal.

But the tug inside your mind lets you know that he knows.

After all, your body is his now.

Just as his is yours.

He fucks your hand slowly with his atop yours, keeping the pace. The lump in his throat bobs rhythmically with each gulp.

Astarion… it's too much…

It takes him a couple of more seconds, two more mouthfuls and at least five more thrusts of his cock for him to finally unlatch from your neck with a guttural growl.

He drags his warm tongue across the puncture wounds, not wasting the rivulets of blood that dribble  down.

The wet sound is nearly intoxicating and you nearly jump in his lap as his other hand finds your breast, fingers tugging at your hardened nipple.

Astarion is close and, by extension, so are you.

Your blood rushes throughout his entire body and you now understand how good it feels. How good you feel inside him. He's warm and flushed from feeding on you and his head tilts back against the headboard as loses himself in you.

Somehow, he's able to keep a steady pace as he fucks your hand, the most beautiful moans spilling from his mouth as he does so.

You caress his neck lovingly as he tugs on your nipple.

“Darling…”

It's a plea.

Under different circumstances, you'd have to ask him what he wanted. But you're inside his head and you know why he's begging you.

He doesn't want his cum to go to waste.

He doesn't think the tightness and warmth and wetness your hand and fingers can provide.

I need to be inside you.

The alarm in his voice stuns you momentarily and your eyes widen as a very urgent tug

He's about to come.

You let go of his cock and his hands are suddenly in between your legs.

Your body reacts to this instantly and your walls tighten in anticipation, eager to squeeze something else.

Stop. Clenching.

A loud moan is all you give him in return as your vision blurs from how his cock pulses and throbs and leaks precum.

Another clench.

“Gods above… I can't take it anymore.”

And neither can you.

You hear the sound of fabric being torn filling your ears and his hands claw at your waist to position himself at your entrance.

A languid snap of his hips and he sinks into you, stretching you in a way that has you slumping against his chest, hardened nipples grazing his skin as he bottoms out.

He's so thick from your blood that you're sure you'll be sore from it, but none of that matters now.

All that matters is that you're stuffed to the brim, his balls pressing against you and the best part is that you can feel how he feels.

You're not sure whose climax hits first as you're so entwined with him.

You reckon it's his as you feel his balls tighten and cum coarse through his length, spilling into you with hurried thrusts.

It feels too good to be true.

You can feel just how tight you are around him and you can feel each gush of cum leaving his bodu

He whines. “I… it feels – Gods…” 

Astarion is a babbling mess under you and his words soon lose meaning as they become incomprehensible.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with the creamy sounds of you milking his cock is enough to send you into overdrive.

The uncontrollable  contractions hit you like a tidal wave and both you and Astarion groan in unison as you both get thrust into each other's climaxes.

Your head is buried in the crook of his neck and you vaguely think in the haze of your peak that you should use a scroll of Lesser Restoration. You're still bleeding from the wounds and the fear that you might faint looms on the horizon.

But pleasure overcomes numbness and you welcome it with no resistance.

Still, as Astarion gets warmer and warmer, you begin to fade to the coldness.

Your tadpole is writhing with his and you feel him push you from him so that he can latch his lips against your bleeding wounds, careful to keep his fangs to himself.

He suckles gently as you descend from your shared climax and it's as if the action could lull him into a trance.

Blindly, you try to feel for a scroll that is somewhere scattered across the bed.

He's still buried deep inside you when the connection is severed, showing no signs of slipping out.

You find what you're looking for and utter the right words to activate the scroll, battling against your laboured breaths.

Vigour blooms inside you almost instantly and you feel warmth spread throughout your body with each pump of your heart.

The wounds close and he has no choice but to unlatch one final time, lips dripping with blood.

“I think I understand now… why you wanted to try this…” you breathe out, collapsing against him again. 

The sudden motion causes a few droplets of cum to drip from you.

His hand is splattered across your back, fingers caressing your flushed skin. “Why are you so surprised? You should know by now that I always deliver what I promise.”

You think it's impossible to love him even more, but the way he holds you surely tests your resolve.

“This was really good… really, really good,” you say.

“Keep on praising me like that, and we'll have to go for a second round.”

Two loud bangs on the wall are heard accompanied by a “Tsk'va!” and you chuckle.

“Well, do you think our neighbours enjoyed the show, darling?”

You doubt it, but this isn't about anyone but you and him.

Masterlist

[littlexdeaths]

fever pitch - r.b.

softball player robin buckley x cheerleader fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: all characters are 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, public sex, thigh riding, secret relationship, allusions to sex, bullying, mean!dom robin, little bit of mean reader, jealous reader

this is a collab with the absolutely brilliant @undead-supernova !! i literally had so much fucking fun writing this with you august, and it might be my favorite robin fic i’ve ever written. i feel like our brains collided and made a gay ass baby and i’m so proud of us. we hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 3.7K

“Shhh, don’t want us getting caught like this do you?”

Robin’s voice is hushed but stern, now lifting her head from between your trembling thighs. The blonde has you spread out on a bench in the dugout, skirt shoved up around your hips as her tongue laps up everything you have to offer.

That is until a broken moan leaves your lips, unable to stop it as her fingers curl up inside you. The sound breaks through the silence, the only thing heard above the soft hum of cicadas.

“What would your little friends think, hmm?” she taunts, brow raised as she looks up at you, dirt still smeared across her cheeks from the game. “Knowing a loser is the one making you feel so good?”

In that moment you can’t find it within yourself to care anymore, gripping her hair in your fist to guide her back between your legs. “Let them.”

Robin hums, her lips drifting lower to nip at the tender skin of your thighs. The action causes another loud whimper to leave you. “You sure about that, honey?”

“I don’t care,” you admit out loud for the first time, thoughts completely overwhelmed with all things Robin.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore,” you sigh.

Never in your wildest dreams would you think tonight would turn out like this.

You’d been watching her from the sidelines as she attempted to slide into homebase, coming up a little short. You’d never gotten to see her play before, your extracurriculars usually running at the same time. But today had been just your luck, with Chrissy spraining her ankle, immediately being rushed off to get it iced. Coach ended practice shortly after—no use continuing without the star of the squad there, right?

It gave you the perfect opportunity to watch her without raising any suspicion—two of your teammates by your side, laughing as Robin struck out. You took your lower lip between your teeth, trying not to gawk as she rose to her feet. Dusting the dirt off her thighs when she caught your eye, biting back a smirk as she made her way towards the dugout.

But not before stopping by where you were leaning against the bleachers. Right there, in front of everyone for the first time.

See, this has been going on for months. The sneaking around, the feigned rivalry.

If only they knew what was really happening behind closed doors.

You first noticed her late one afternoon, walking to your car after cheer practice. Robin hadn’t even crossed your radar, barely a glance in the hallway. Too wrapped up in your own world to notice. But there was just something about the warm glow of the sunset laying against her flushed cheek. The way she found your eyes, like she knew your secret, before she spit out the shell of a sunflower seed. Chuckling as she grabbed her bat and walked off.

All you knew after that was you desperately wanted to know more. And boy, did you.

You quickly learned through word of mouth that she had been caught hooking up with some girl in the band room after school. That confirmation prompted you to start dropping her little hints. Longing glances when no one was paying attention, nods in the hallway. Sneaking out of practice early just so she’d notice you walk by. And, sure, she noticed.

But Robin wasn’t going to come easy, was she?

No, she wanted to make you work for it. To prove to her you were serious, not just another girl looking to make out with her for the thrill of it. Or some sick joke conjured up by the cheer squad to humiliate her more.

You quickly realized that your subtle hints were not going to get you what you wanted. Her.

One day you’d finally had enough, boldly slipping a note in her locker between classes. Coaxing her to meet you in the secluded alley between the gym and the cafeteria. A place you’d only used to meet a certain super senior when you wanted to buy some weed.

A spot unknown or used by the majority of the students of Hawkins High, knowing you wouldn’t be seen or heard by any curious passersby.

Part of you was worried she wouldn't show, becoming increasingly more nervous as time passed. Any lingering qualms were squashed when you saw her striding down the narrow path towards you. She looked good, her dark jeans hugging her hips just right. A button-up shirt tucked loosely into them, the top few buttons left open.

You wanted nothing more than to lean forward, closing the short distance between your bodies. Leave a trail of blues and purples along her exposed skin. And that terrified you, to know that one girl could mess you up in such a monumental way.

“So,” you mumbled, kicking a pebble with the tip of your sneaker.

“So,” she answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Without hesitation, you introduced yourself but Robin gave you a confused look.

“Yeah, I already know who you are.”

“You do?”

“Well, we’ve gone to school together our whole lives…” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “and when a girl is practically eye-fucking you in the halls, it’s hard not to notice.”

“Oh, right,” you replied, looking down. Embarrassment washed over you. “Sorry, I guess I misinterpreted this whole thing.”

You carefully pushed off the wall, ready to walk away and pretend like this whole thing never happened. Save yourself the humiliation.

But her soft voice stopped you in your tracks.

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Then what would you say?” you asked, more confident now.

“You’re the one who asked me here,” Robin pointed out, turning the focus back to you.

And just as quickly as your confidence had risen, it fell. So you looked down again, now fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“I don’t, um,” you struggled. “I don’t really know how to say it. I just…I…”

“Oh, just spit it out already.”

You looked up at her exasperated expression, narrowing your eyes. “Fine! Fine. Whatever. I like you, okay?”

“Like me? We’ve never spoken.”

“Don’t give me that when I’ve seen the way you look at me too.”

Robin’s hardened expression fell. “Touché.”

Silence fell between you, Robin lifting her head to look at the sky. You couldn’t help but squirm again, feeling a desperate urge to breathe in her scent.

You sighed. “So, what do we do now?”

“Hell if I know,” she replied, looking back at you. “I thought you were stuck up like the rest of your prissy friends.”

“Not when I’m around you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel…different, somehow.”

“I could make it much worse for you, you know,” Robin replied, a smug grin reaching her lips as she stepped closer to you. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Please—”

“Actually, no,” Robin interrupted, fingers inching towards your hip. “You should beg.”

“Please,” you said without hesitation. “Please, Robin. I need you.”

Robin knew she shouldn’t. And so did you. But there was just something there, pressing against your chests as Robin pressed you against the brick. And when she kissed you the first time, you nearly whined in contentment, mewling softly against her mouth.

That kiss left you feeling desperate, eager for her to show you more. However, Robin wasn’t going to chase you, forcing you to take matters into your own hands. You sought her out one night after practice, pulling her into the equipment room outside the gym. Backing her body against the door, lips meeting once you heard the lock click into place.

“Just couldn’t stay away now, could you, baby?” she mumbled against your mouth, pulling a soft whine from you as she nipped at your lower lip. The noise caused her to laugh softly.

“I want you, Robs.”

She hummed in response, letting her lips trail across your jaw. “Want me how?” she prodded as the tip of her nose skimmed along your collarbone, rendering you utterly speechless.

“Show me,” she breathed, further stealing the breath from your lungs as she kissed you deeply. Taking control as she flipped your positions, enclosing you against the door.

You’re pliable under her soft touch, guiding her fingers up and underneath your pleated skirt. The blue of her irises nearly swallowed whole by her pupils as she gazed at you hungrily. That look ignited something within you, feeling emboldened as you reached forward to undo her pants. Exploring each other in a way that was unfamiliar to you, her skilled fingers helping to guide you with ease.

After that, it was just your little secret, with no one being the wiser. Why would they? You were on the opposite ends of the food chain, fractured by the Hawkins High hierarchy. Leaving little glances across the cafeteria, brushes of your fingertips in the hallway as a secret reminder of what you two had. It didn’t hurt that you could sit in class, practice, or even the shower and think about how they’d brush against your breasts later.

Of course, you couldn’t help but wind her up whenever you could be overheard. As she would gladly put you in your place in private.

But you knew as she approached you on the field with that familiar glint in her eye— you were really in for it this time.

“What’s so funny?” Robin asked, removing her gloves. You let your eyes linger on her fingers for a moment as she gripped the leather. Quickly shifting your gaze elsewhere as you pressed your thighs together.

Something the blonde didn’t miss. Holding back a smug smile as she looked between the three of you.

“You’re just such a loser,” Carol snickered, snapping her gum between her teeth.

Heather joined in with a giggle. “Yeah, maybe you should look into joining the t-ball team. Seems like a much better fit for you.”

Heather knew she struck a nerve, pleased with herself as Robin’s jaw clenched in anger.

“Oh, yeah?” Robin said, ready to egg her on. “And what do you know, Holloway? I’d like to see you do something other than shake your ass at Billy Hargrove during games. Don’t you find it pathetic how desperate you are for his attention?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Heather snapped back. “As if you are getting any. No one even knows your name.”

“You’d be surprised,” Robin replied, her eyes shifting towards you as if on instinct. “You know, I don’t recall ever seeing this one with a guy.”

“You better get back to that pitch before you strike out, Buckley,” you bit back, shooting her a warning look. “Again.”

With a shake of her head, Robin glanced behind you at your “friends” before scoffing and turning. But not before she took her cleat and scuffed up dirt onto your shiny white sneakers.

“Oops.” She laughed, giving you one last look before walking away.

Not missing a beat, Heather turned to you with a bewildered expression. “You know her name?”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s on her uniform.”

“Oh— right,” she murmured, the conversation quickly forgotten as they discussed their plans for the night: yet another kegger at the Harrington residence. It was something you definitely weren’t interested in attending.

Though they begged you to join them, you merely shrugged and told them to go without you. They didn’t even blink before heading off, their laughter fading as quickly as it started. But you soon found yourself lost in the chatter of the crowd and the roar of the umpire.

You decided to move up, leaning against the chain-link fence, pom-poms thrown to the dirt as you watched your girl stepping up to bat again. The score had been tied, this being Hawkins High’s last chance to win the game.

As always, Robin found you again. She gave you a wink before you heard the sharp crack of the bat. You gasped along with the crowd at the sight of the ball shooting through the sky and into the parking lot.

You couldn’t help the loud cheer erupting from your lips, clapping along with the crowd as she sprinted through each base with ease. And as she slid into home and was declared safe, her eyes met yours. They followed you as she picked herself up, sweat dripping as she removed her helmet. Shaking her dampened hair out with a wide grin.

There was no longer anything inside you that beckoned you to be malicious. You could feel a swell of pride inside you, wanting nothing more than to show her just how incredible she was. How much you cared about her…and you planned on it.

Her teammates were quick to surround her, lifting her up onto their shoulders as the crowd continued to cheer. Robin was clearly embarrassed by the sudden swarm of attention, her cheeks beautifully flushed as they carried her across the field. Soaking in the glory for a few more moments before they were called to line up, shaking hands with the opposing team.

But as everyone began to clear out, you noticed Beth Wildfire hanging back, laughing near the dugout with Robin. As you moved closer, you could make out the way Beth was checking out Robin’s ass as she bent over to grab her glove.

Robin lifted her head slightly, noticing you making your way over.

“Nice win, Buckley,” Beth said, popping in a piece of gum. “We should go out and celebrate.”

“Oh, yeah?” Robin asked, a devious smile on her lips as she rose. You couldn’t stop the jealousy beginning to surface. “You think we should invite the team?”

She was making you work for it, wasn’t she?

“Actually, I thought maybe you and I could—”

“Hey, Robin,” you said, directly in Beth’s line of sight now.

Beth gave you a look, clearly annoyed by your interruption.

Good.

“Hey,” Robin greeted. “What’s up?”

“You still need that ride?” you asked, clutching your pom poms tighter in your fists.

“I’d almost forgotten,” Robin replied smugly.

“Well, uh,” Beth said, taking a step closer to Robin. “I could always take her home after heading to Benny’s.”

“No, that’s alright,” you said curtly, faking a smile as you also took a step forward. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

You and Beth exchanged glances before her eyes widened, flickering between you and Robin who was only looking at you. Beth said nothing, opting instead to give you both a quick nod. But the clear disappointment on her face brought you more joy than you cared to admit.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she said. “Again, nice win, Buckley.”

Even as she walked away, Robin never broke eye contact. “Thanks, Beth,” she called out, a grin widening on her lips.

“Ready to go, mon chéri? I’m starving.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

And that’s how you ended up here, your legs draped over Robin’s shoulders as her tongue circles over your clit. One hand buried in her hair and the other clutching onto the chain link fence behind you. Her blue hues never leave your face, taking in each and every reaction she pulls from you.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.” She grins, flicking the tip of her tongue over your swollen clit. Enjoying the way your body twitches with every motion.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

You breathlessly try to deny it, but you both know you’re lying. Once again letting your pride get in the way, prompting Robin to remove her tongue from your center.

“No— Robbie, please,” you whine as she pulls away fully, resting her cheek against your inner thigh as she continues to slowly thrust her fingers inside you.

She revels in the way your walls grip tightly around the digits, almost as if you’re trying to keep them trapped inside. And as much as she loves feeling you, she loves making you beg even more.

So she slips her fingers out of your dripping cunt completely. Standing up to hover over you as she brings them to your lips.

“Please what, princess?” she taunts, her fingers now slipping into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly swirling around the digits until they’re devoid of any trace of you.

Robin removes them just as fast, trailing the saliva-coated digits down your jaw until they wrap around the base of your throat. “Answer me,” her harsh tone only further dampening the area between your thighs.

“Please don’t stop,” you plead without hesitation, rocking your hips up against her thigh. A look of desperation flitting across your features as you clutch onto her shoulders.

“Aww, you wanna cum, pretty thing?” Her tone is laced with condescension, finding yourself nodding almost frantically as you gaze up at her.

“I don’t know, baby… you were pretty mean earlier.” She paused, a small pout forming on your lips as she traced over them with her thumb. “You think you deserve it?”

You nod as if on instinct, whining as she pulls away from you completely. Rising to her feet once again, grabbing your hands and pulling you up off the bench. Your breasts press together as she whispers softly in your ear, “Prove it to me, then.”

You eagerly reach for the buttons on her uniform, tugging the zipper down. Impatiently yanking her pants down over the curve of her ass as you take back control.

“Sit,” you demand, resting your hands on her shoulders. Coaxing her to take your previous position on the worn bench.

“So bossy,” she teases, gripping your hips as you swing your leg over her thigh.

Taking a seat as you slip your fingers past the elastic of her underwear, moaning at the wetness you find there.

“This all for me?” you muse, your thumb brushing over her bundle of nerves with ease now. Having become quite familiar with every inch of her body over the last three months.

“I mean… Beth was looking good tonight—”

You cut her off with your mouth before she has a chance to finish her sentence. That surge of jealousy coursing through your veins as you kiss her deeply.

“She can’t have you,” you mumble against her mouth, before taking her lower lip between your teeth and tugging. “You're all mine.”

Robin curses softly as you begin to grind your hips against her thigh, slipping two fingers into her awaiting heat. Pumping them in tandem with each rock of your hips, as she mewls against your mouth.

“Please.” Now she's the one doing the begging, despite your hips continuing to grind down against her thigh. The mixture of her saliva and your juices making a mess on her bare skin.

You giggle softly as you increase the pressure on her clit with your thumb, burying your fingers deeper inside her. “Say it again.” She moans as you attach your lips to the base of her throat.

The blonde tilts her head back to expose more of her neck as you greedily suck on her flushed skin. A feeling of pride washes over you as you leave blotches of red and purple in your wake.

“You’re mine, Robin.” Your tone is overly possessive, enjoying how her body trembles beneath you. Your words being the thing to finally send her over the edge as she pulls your face back up to crash her lips against yours.

Her fingers dig harshly into the skin of your hips, encouraging you to keep grinding on her thigh. Lifting her leg to increase the pressure on your core. “That’s it… such a good girl.”

She pulls back slightly to watch you with hooded eyes, lips lifting in a genuine smile.

“My good girl.”

Her words elicit a bigger response than either of you expected, your thighs tightening around her own as you loudly cry out her name. Her hands continue to guide you along her thigh, working you through each wave of euphoria that crashes over you.

You’re both panting as you begin to come down from your highs, nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck. “Wow,” you breathe out, lightly tracing over the darkening love bites on her neck.

“Jeez, I think the whole town heard you,” Robin teases, running her fingers along your back.

“Well,” you start, pulling back to look at her. “I’m just trying to congratulate my girl on her big win.”

“Your girl?” she teases.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile. “Mhm.”

“Admit it,” Robin says, lifting her eyebrows, eyes tracing the lines of your face. “You were jealous.”

“Maybe I was,” you finally admit, earning an amused smile from her. “But I don’t think I have to worry about anyone else.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm.”

You press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth before standing, helping her to her feet. Leaning back against the fence as she wiggles her pants back up over her hips.

Robin is still fastening the buttons as you walk out onto the field. Her eyes follow your figure as you reach the pitcher's mound. A fond look falls over her features as your eyes flutter shut, letting the last glow of the setting sun soak into your pores.

Feeling the weight of her stare, you turn back around. Flashing her a beaming smile as she finally reaches you on the field.

“So… Benny’s?” you ask, twisting your skirt back into place. “I’m actually starving now.”

Robin looks at you in utter disbelief as she places her hat back on her head, the brim facing the opposite direction. “Wait, you’re serious? What if someone sees us together?”

You can’t stop the giggle that leaves you, now closing the few feet separating you from her. Cupping her face in between your palms as you press another kiss to her lips.

Right in the middle of the open field.

“I told you,” you say, louder this time. “Let them see us. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

You slip your hand into hers, lacing your fingers as you begin leading her towards your car. A sight to see, her bat and glove in her unoccupied hand. Your pom-poms in yours.

“You were still an asshole earlier, you know that?” Robin says.

As you share a laugh, you swing your intertwined hands back-and-forth. You’re practically skipping as you pull her along, light-hearted and winded.

“And you ruined my sneakers,” you counter. “Are you gonna clean them for me?”

“Only if you’re good, mon chéri.”

“I think I can manage that,” you reply as you venture further into the twilight. “At least for a little bit.”

tagging some moots 💕

@xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore @impmunson @voyeurmunson @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs @strangerstilinski

[moonstruckme]

Hey girl 💖 Would love a comfort fic with James or poly!Marauders after r had a really bad day? Just cuddles and comforting words. Sure most of us need it right now 💖

Thanks for requesting my love <3 I did try to make this seem like it could just be about any bad day but for my US babes and anyone else that's going to be affected by the election, I really hope you're doing okay and I hope we're all okay over the next few years. Even if we don't all have a James to comfort us, we can still be there for each other <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 607 words

You’re in bed when James finishes brushing his teeth. He can see your shoulders shaking underneath the covers. 

His chest aches as he goes to you. It’s not the first time you’ve cried today and it probably won’t be the last for a while, all your hurt and anger and grief compounding on you as time goes on. James gets into bed and twines his arms around your middle, pressing his nose into your warm cheek. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. 

Your sobs worsen, and you turn, face to his chest and arms reaching around him with an unthinking neediness. You don’t believe him. 

“It is.” He kisses the top of your head firmly, hugging you closer. You seem like you need a bit of solidity right now. “You’ll be alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” 

James lets you cry. Your sniffles grow thick, James’ chest under your face wet with tears and snot. He wonders if your head hurts from how much you’ve wept today, makes a mental note to get you some water in the morning if he can’t manage it tonight. Your whole body shakes with deep, aching sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a while, words jolting. “I can’t—I keep thinking in circles.” 

“Baby, it’s okay.” James rubs your back. He hates to see you upset, but he wouldn’t begrudge you it. You’ve had a day. As much as he wishes he never had to see you cry, he feels grateful that you’d do it with him. “It’s okay to be sad for a little while.” 

“I know. I know, but—” Another series of sobs jostles their way out of you, painful sounding. Your voice quiets to a tight whisper. “I just can’t stop.” 

James swallows the blockage in his own throat, making big, sweeping circles over your back. “Do you want a little distraction?” he offers. 

You nod into his chest. 

“Okay.” He thinks for a second. “Well, tomorrow, I thought we might go to the bookstore if you’re feeling up to it.” He pauses, waiting to see if this is what you want. When you don’t make a sound he continues. “We could make a day of it. There’s that Thai place you like nearby, so maybe we grab some takeaway, sit and read in the park…” You make a snuffling sound against his chest, and James gives you a squeeze. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Your voice is stuffy and sad, but calmer. “That sounds nice.” 

“I glanced at the weather report earlier.” He drops a kiss on your head. It coaxes you into looking up at him. Your eyes are wet and puffy, but James smiles at you, pinching your nose clean gently. “It’s supposed to be nice out. We’ll probably need our coats, but still, not too bad. You could probably break out those new socks you got.” 

You smile wobbily. “It feels like sort of a silly thing to be excited about now,” you say softly, “socks.” 

“That’s what I love about you, though.” James holds your face and gives in to kissing wherever the urge strikes him, your skin warm and tacky. “You’re always finding things to be excited about, that make you happy. I love that. It’s the little things, right?” 

You sniffle. You’re far from happy now, but you’re settling. “I guess.” 

“It’s nice when it’s the big things too, of course,” he concedes, “but for tomorrow I can still get my girl a book and a takeaway. Right? Okay?” 

“Yeah.” You kiss him, salt on both of your lips. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“You’ll be okay,” he promises you again. “I’ve always got you.”

[sweetlemontart]

call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

masterlist link

Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath. 

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on. 

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease. 

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago. 

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend. 

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification. 

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck. 

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan. 

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious. 

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by. 

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier. 

"Is that it?" you asked him. 

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head. 

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you. 

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest. 

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name. 

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach. 

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes. 

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further. 

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show. 

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal. 

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more. 

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow. 

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to. 

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit. 

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut. 

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge. 

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in. 

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much? 

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend. 

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it. 

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer. 

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising. 

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants. 

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.  

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light. 

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you. 

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet. 

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum. 

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back. 

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath. 

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes. 

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips. 

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting. 

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening. 

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all. 

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" 

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better. 

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him. 

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh. 

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips. 

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole. 

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt. 

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit. 

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up. 

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow. 

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt. 

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name. 

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know. 

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle. 

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy. 

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it. 

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours. 

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp. 

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt. 

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow. 

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

 "Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him. 

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full. 

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess." 

"W-What?" you squeak out. 

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans. 

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest. 

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you. 

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin. 

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air. 

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?" 

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs. 

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst. 

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors. 

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind. 

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance. 

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry? 

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes. 

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again. 

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high. 

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet. 

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it. 

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal. 

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck. 

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing. 

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk. 

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly. 

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out. 

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago. 

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair. 

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind. 

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?" 

 "Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes. 

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..." 

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—" 

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once. 

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head. 

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush. 

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open. 

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer. 

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him. 

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath. 

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..." 

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure. 

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly. 

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his. 

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss. 

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine. 

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes. 

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice. 

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek. 

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom. 

© sweetlemontart — all rights reserved.

[rinhaler]

So Tell Me What You Need

oliver aiku really really likes you ♡

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ yandere!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (++ smut) Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for doing gods work with this fic i hated it hehehe Warnings: 18+, serial killer mention, murder mention, weed mention, smoking, stalking ♡, manipulation, dub/noncon, 'just the tip' ♡, coercion, oral (m receiving), cock slapping ♡, facial, creampie ♡, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, etc.) ♡ Words: 7.2k

The body of a young woman was discovered in the early hours of Thursday morning. It’s the third body in the last five months to be found, and an inside source has revealed that this is thought to be a pattern by one killer. The victims are all female and—

Your heart pounds as you shut off the TV in your front room. It’s the last thing you want to hear as the windows reveal the dark night sky outside. You don’t even see the stars above; the light pollution takes that comfort from you. All you can see is rows of apartments opposite to your own, some lit and some dim. Some with funky colours but most are warm white.

And your face flushes with heat as you notice one of the latter have a couple fucking up against a window before you turn away to face your roommate.

She notes your concern, but chooses to smirk and poke fun anyway.

“Maybe it’s your stalker,” she teases you. “You might be next.”

“That’s not funny.” you sigh, storming off to your room. You wince as you look at the abandoned study materials at your desk. You’ve been putting everything off for weeks, but your coursework and exams are the last thing on your mind.

You find yourself pacing around a little before you eventually decide to sit on the edge of your bed. There’s no way you can possibly sleep after hearing that. And your roommate’s poor joke has only made you more paranoid. So, what is there left to do?

Music might help, you think to yourself as you unlock your phone. You can barely do anything as your fingers begin to tremor while you look through your playlists. You’re interrupted, though, as a call from an unknown number fills your screen.

You mask your fear with anger, grunting as you swing open your bedroom door to yell at your friend.

“Stop it, Lacey! I’m going to have nightmares, I’m serious!” you yell. She looks at you, confused. You hold up your phone to show her the incoming call. But her eyes drop to the coffee table, her own phone discarded on top of it in favour of smoking from her bong.

“Answer it.” she urges you.

And you gulp, nodding, sliding the button across the bottom of the touch screen to take the call. You steel yourself, already knowing what’s coming as soon as you speak. It’s the same thing every single time. You don’t say a word, not for a few seconds. There isn’t a sound from either of you as you sit on the couch while your roommate’s eyes follow you.

“Hello?” you say, meekly.

It begins.

The heavy, repetitive breathing that sends a chill down your spine. She looks concerned, now. It’s the first time she’s been present when you’ve received a call. You’d started to suspect she didn’t believe you.

“Who the fuck is this?” she yells, snatching the phone from your hand. Their breathing stutters, it’s barely noticeable but you both pick up on it. It’s enough to make her hang up. “I— you should stay in my room tonight. W-With me.”

“Are you scared?” you ask her, earnestly. She doesn’t respond, but the fact that she’s packing away her drug paraphernalia is answer enough. “Thank you.” you smile, though you leave the room as you do.

You start scrolling through your contacts on instinct, tossing your phone onto your bed as you find the number you’re searching for and put it on loudspeaker as it dials. It rings and rings, and you start to worry you won’t get through. You undress, taking off your clothes from the day to change into your pyjamas.

“Hey you,” he starts. “S’pretty late, baby. Somethin’ wrong?”

“Oliver…” you start, legs buckling at the sound of his voice as you feel a combination of relief and guilt surge through you. You sniff, the pressure of your fear and other underlying emotions doing their best to overwhelm you. “My— The stalker called. Again.” you tell him, and you’re instantly met with a sympathetic coo.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asks. “Or do you wanna come here? I’ll pick you up, princess, s’not a problem.” he continues. You shake your head despite him not being able to see.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Sorry, I was just freaking out. Nice to hear your voice, though…” you smile a little, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Alright. Only if you’re sure.” he speaks, clearing his throat. “I miss you, though. You better let me see that pretty face of yours soon.”

“Okay,” your smile widens. Once again nodding knowing he can’t actually see you right now. “Goodnight Oli.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

Sharing a bed with your roommate helped. You didn’t even mind her snoring, it’s not like you’d expected to get much sleep anyway. You got enough to get you through the day, though. Classes went by without incident, and you didn’t feel yourself wavering at lunchtime like you have been recently.

The calls are unpredictable, you’re always on edge. There’s no specific times or days or even how many times he’ll call.

You walk back to your apartment alone. The winter sucks. It’s not particularly cold, but it’s dark when you get to your classes and then it’s dark again when you leave for the day. You feel like you’re going crazy, and you can’t pretend you aren’t scared of being outside alone when it’s so dark out.

A text notification frightens you enough to almost drop your phone. You don’t even remember turning your phone off silent. Though you can’t help but grin when you see who it’s from.

Oli: Wanna hang out tonight?

You: I’m too behind on my coursework ☹

You: Another time? x

Oli: Okay princess x

You take a deep breath, pocketing your phone as you continue your journey to your apartment. The elevator isn’t empty, but you don’t mind. If anything, you feel a little better to be around people. Your music plays softly through your earphones the whole time, and your anxiety finally begins to dissipate.

Although, it comes flooding back when you get to the door of your apartment.

It’s locked.

And, normally, that would be fine. But Lacey always finishes early on Monday’s. And she’s always home before you get here. Your mind instantly flickers to the phone calls. The stalker.

The news report last night.

Little hands tremble as you search pathetically through your tote bag until you find your keys. The metal clings and clangs as you search for the right one; you jump as they fall from your hands. Eventually, though, the right one is in your grasp and you open the door quickly.

There’s no sign of her. She isn’t smoking in the front room like you expect. You open her bedroom door without knocking, only to discover she isn’t there either. Deep breaths are taken in vain. You try to call her, but there’s no answer.

You: Are you okay?? Call me ASAP

Lacey: I’m fine! I’m at the frat hanging out with Eita 😇

“Oh thank God.” you sigh, all but falling to your knees when you read her reply. Instantly, you can’t help but think about what a slut she is when you think about her failing to tell you her plans because she’s decided to sneak off to ‘hang out’ with her toxic friend with benefits.

Your mind is clear, though your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

Oli: You’re really just gonna study all night? X

You: Thinking about ordering a pizza :P x

Oli: I like pizza you know 🙄x

You: Next time! Promise x

It’s crazy. It’s embarrassing, actually, how quickly he can put you at ease. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him forever. You sigh, dreamily, as you recall how he had introduced himself to you and Lacey during welcome week. He had to squeeze in the fact he was the president of the most popular frat on campus.

Even then, he made you blush. Though you couldn’t act on it; you’d had a boyfriend at the time. But you’ve been single for almost as long as you’ve known Oli, since you dumped him a week or two after; when you realised you didn’t love him anymore. And, still, nothing has happened between you and Oliver.

You’re scared, truthfully.

You’re scared because you know he’s experienced and he’s confident. You know girls throw themselves at him and he knows he’s popular. You’re not a virgin, but compared to him you may as well be.

After clearing your throat and shaking your head to dismiss your train of thought, you start looking for food to add to your basket from your favourite pizza place. It’s so hard to choose, as much as you’d love to get everything, you’re basically broke.

Incoming call.

“Please, no.” your voice breaks as you speak out loud.

You shouldn’t answer. The number is private and you already know what’s going to happen. But you’ve tried that before. You’ve tried ignoring them, but they just keep calling until you answer.

You’re frozen, paralysed with fear as you contemplate what to do. Lacey isn’t here to support you this time. She won’t be coming back, either. So, do you really want to answer? Do you really want to deal with how many calls you’ll receive if you don’t?

The burden of dealing with this alone is too much to bear.

But you’ve been left with no other choice.

“H-Hello?” you whimper, eager to get it over with. The breathing starts, and you’re surprised that this time it’s enough to make you cry. And it’s not just a few tears falling. Whoever is on the other end of the call will undoubtedly know what you’ve been reduced to. “Please stop doing this. W-What do you want from me?” you cry.

It's useless, though, the breathing just continues.

“I can’t t-take it anymore, please, p-please…”

“Mmmmpf,” you hear, it’s cracked and strained and it makes you feel sick. You aren’t sure if you’re imagining things, or if this sicko is actually getting off to the sound of your anguish and desperate pleas. “Thank you.” they say, the voice is deep and distorted but it’s clear as day.

Your breath is trapped in your lungs. And for the first time, they hang up.

You just can’t anymore.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t function.

Can’t think.

You can think enough to call Oli, though. Tremoring digits manage to navigate away from the takeout website to bring up your text thread with Oliver once more. And you don’t hesitate to press the call button.

Your eyes are soaked, vision blurry like a smudged camera lens as you look around your barren apartment while you wait for him to pick up.

“Hi gorgeous,” he answers, a seductive lilt in his tone. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d be flustered. You can picture the smirk on his face as he talks, though you aren’t really listening. “What’s up, baby? Calling to brag about that pizza?”

“O-li.” you sniff, voice cracking after each vowel. He’s silent, but you hear him move. Like he’s sitting upright suddenly, ready to spring into action to rescue you. “He c-called. Again, Oli… again—”

“Shit.” he sighs. “Do you want me to—”

“Please… come get me. ‘m so scared, don’t wanna be here a-alone.” you whine.

“I’m on my way.” he tells you. “I won’t be long, baby. I promise. See ya soon, princess.” he finishes, cutting off the line as he rushes to his car.

Your body stiffens as the silence of your apartment hits you once more. You can’t waste time, though. So, you pack. You’re quick about it, too. You fill your biggest bag with toiletries, a change of clothes and sleepwear… and your coursework.

There’s no way you’ll be doing any work tonight, but you can at least pretend you’re functioning like normal. You can’t let this creep dictate your entire life, right? Maybe being with Oliver will actually keep you calm enough to actually get some of your work started.

Oli: I’m outside x

The black night sky makes your heart race as you walk out of your apartment. The winter cold is harsher in the bleak evenings. Your thin sweater isn’t enough to protect you from the air nipping at your skin.

It’s the least of your worries; all you can think about is the fact this stalker of yours could be watching you right now. It could be anyone. Someone from your class, someone you shared the elevator with, your next-door neighbour. The very thought makes your steps quicken. You’re hurrying to the elevator and bashing the button until it arrives. It’s the first time you’ve felt safe since you left your apartment, because you’re alone. But even then, your skin breaks into goosebumps as you look up at the CCTV camera in the corner.

You’ll never feel safe, not really.

You rush down the road when you see Oliver’s car in the distance. He honks, and it’s all you need to run to him. You’re running like an athlete, and it feels more humiliating than it should. You’re sure Oliver understands why you’re frightened; and you’re sure he won’t judge you for sprinting to the car. But, still, it feels pathetic.

You open the door roughly before you practically dive into the passenger seat. He moves out of the way a little as you throw your overnight bag into the back seat.

“Hey, you’re alright now. Yeah? I’ve got you.” he speaks softly, doing what he can to relax you. You almost melt into his touch as he tucks a hair behind your ear. You do, a little, your body almost melds to the plush leather seat. Your head falls backwards onto the head rest, and your lip begins to wobble. “Poor thing…” he sighs.

“D-Drive, please…” you say, voice weak and strained.

He nods, driving off towards the frat house.

“I wouldn’t worry, you know.” he tells you, putting his hand on your thigh as he drives slow and carefully. You don’t object to his advances, in fact, it’s a comfort to feel his warm hand on your bitter flesh. Even his rough thumb stroking your skin is a welcome feeling. “It’s probably your ex, princess.”

“You think so?” you wonder. “I don’t know… he didn’t take the breakup well, but—”

“You never know what people will resort to when they’re heartbroken, baby.” he tells you, uneven eyes focus on you even as he drives. It makes you nervous, but his calm demeanour forces you to ignore it. You trust him, wholly. “Plus, he knows he lost the best thing that’ll happen to him in his pathetic life.”

“… Oli.” you smile, looking down at your knees as you try to avoid his cocksure stare.

He doesn’t say another word for the rest of the journey.

You come face to face with Lacey as you walk through the grandiose double doors. You feel like a guest of honour as you enter the castle that Oliver Aiku reigns over. Everyone is filled with warm smiles and happy faces as you see them. But your expression in return is feeble. You try to smile, but you’re so downtrodden, and Lacey immediately knows why.

She doesn’t even care that you don’t say hello when you run by her on the stairs and hurry to Oliver’s room. Oliver remains at the bottom while he watches you flee.

“She got another call.” he informs your roommate.

“Fuck.” she hisses through her teeth as she looks back up the stairs. Her voice is filled with remorse as she thinks things through. “I shouldn’t have left her alone; I knew she was—”

“S’alright, Lace,” Oliver smiles, his pristine pearly whites instantly put her at ease. “You can’t be with her every second, don’t blame yourself.” his eyes are so warm and full of love, she sees it every time he talks about you. He’s good for you, she thinks. He’s so sweet about you and he’s crazy about you.

“Give her our best.” Eita tells him, putting a hand on Lacey’s shoulder as they descend the stairs. “We’re going to smoke in the garden.”

“Enjoy yourselves, kids.” Oliver smirks, winking at them before chasing after you.

He sees you making yourself comfortable in his room. You’re already undressed, and you don’t care that he can see you. He doesn’t dare look away, either. But you don’t mind. He watches as you put on the mismatched pyjamas you threw into your bag, and he sits beside you on the bed after you collapse backwards onto the mattress.

“I’m gonna change my number,” you whisper. “I should have done that in the first place…”

“Good idea.” he agrees. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his hand rest atop your head, his thumb delicately stroking your forehead again and again. He swears he sees you fall asleep for a second before you scare yourself awake with a too heavy breath. “Should we get you that pizza?”

You nod, lightly.

“I’d like that.”

He’s the perfect gentleman. You’re lucky to know Oli, you think. That’s how you feel anyway, as he watches you in silence while simultaneously encouraging your efforts in getting your schoolwork done.

He was kind, and he was helpful. Telling you that you could take a break or stop all together for the evening when your food arrived. And so, you spent a good while making notes and studying textbooks.

“Atta girl.” he winks at you, teasingly, when you begin to scribble down words onto pages. “I’m proud of you, baby, don’t let that idiot get under your skin.”

“Thanks Oli, I—” you’re cut off by the sound of your phone vibrating. You look over your shoulder and back to the desk you’ve been sitting at for the last 35 minutes. “O-Oli…” you whimper, showing him your phone.

He sets his own phone down on his bedside cabinet as he focuses on yours. It’s them. Oliver takes your phone, eyes furrowed as he debates whether to answer or not - choosing to answer brazenly. He puts it on loudspeaker, if only so you can confirm it is indeed the man who’s been harassing you endlessly.

The breaths are heavy but also stifled. It’s like he’s trying to control himself. He’s trying to be quiet. Oliver looks at you for answers, but you don’t have any for him. You haven’t got a single solitary clue on how to deal with these calls anymore.

Nothing works.

“Keep messing with her, I’ll fuck you up.” he says sternly. He eyes you up to make sure you’re listening to him. He wants you, needs you, to know he’s going to protect you at any cost. “We know who you are, so knock it the fuck off.”

He presses the big red disconnect button and puts your phone down beside you on the desk. He’s a little taken aback when you rush into his arms, your head resting on his firm chest while your arms wrap tightly around his torso. His hand comes down gently on the crown of your head and hear him emit a soft chuckle. You can’t see the small smile etching its way across his face, but you know it’s there.

“I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?” he assures you. You feel like a different person, with him. It’s like you’re having an out of body experience when you find yourself lunging forward on your tippy toes to place your lips against his. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Not right away, at least. He holds your shoulders after a few seconds go by. “Where did that come from?” he smirks.

“I don’t know, sorry… I just—” you’re interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You back away a little, smiling. “Saved by the bell.” you joke.

“I’ll go,” he closes the gap between you again, bending down to capture your lips in a soft, chaste kiss once again. “Find a movie or something, anything you want.” he whispers against your skin before parting from you.

You shiver, slightly, after he closes the door behind himself. The rational side of you knows that you’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen right now. But you can’t help feeling safer with Oli around.

Maybe that’s why you kissed him.

You’re just so grateful to him.

“We should prob’ly go to sleep.”

You nod, agreeing when you see the time tick tick ticking on the plain black clock above his desk. A few hours had passed since the most recent call. You didn’t even pick a movie, you ended up watching some silly gaming videos on YouTube while you ate together.

It was divine.

And you can’t deny the possibility that it tasted better with a smile on your face and good company.

You get under the covers, your body feeling warmer as you watch Oliver circle the bed to turn off the light. He’d decided to forgo wearing anything to cover his chiselled body, and you suspect he did it on purpose.

The room is plunged into darkness until he uses the flashlight on his phone to guide his way back to bed. The mattress sinks behind you as he gets under the covers, and you only just manage to suppress a yelp when he presses his body against yours. You could quite literally dissolve under the pressure.

He smirks against the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he kisses you there, a desperate mewl escaping you in an instant. His hand rests on the curve of your hip, though his thick fingers begin to sink into your malleable flesh. You can’t even bring yourself to protest as you feel him not so subtly nudge his hips into you. And you can feel him.

“Oli… w-we shouldn’t.” you say, softly, the desperation clinging to your tongue gives away your true feelings instantly. You shouldn’t? That’s your opinion, clearly, as a rough hand winds its way around your body and up the baggy unflattering t-shirt you’d decided to wear.

“Are you sure?” he whispers against the hairs standing on end on the back of your neck. Words formulating in your mouth crumble to pieces when he squeezes the supple flesh of your breasts, alternating between them like he’s deciding which is his favourite. He experimentally rolls one of your nipples between his finger and thumb, and he’s mesmerised by the sound you release and the way you back your ass up against his aching length. He offers his own breathy sound in response. It’s almost a gasp. “You like this?” he wonders aloud despite knowing.

And you could cry as you nod.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. Since you’ve been loved.

And why should you put your needs on hold just because you’re a little scared?

“What about just the tip, princess?” he mutters, you feel your panties soak through as gravelly words enter your ear canal. He’s that desperate. He needs you that badly that he’s prepared to settle for just the tip. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand how much I need you, baby?”

“We r-really shouldn’t…” you tell him.

Even through the material of the top you’re wearing, you feel his rock hard body pressed heavily into your back. His hard-on makes you dizzy, you may as well be drunk from how much the room is spinning as you do all you can to resist.

“But you want to.” he tells you. He moves you onto your back and cages you in. He brushes his bulging sweats into your heat, his head drooping as he feels so close but so far to what he’s always wanted. Since the very moment he set his sights on you, he wanted this. “I can feel you, princess. You can feel me too, yeah?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, Oli… I feel you.”

“So stop fightin’ it.” he commands, though there’s a level of desperation interlaced with his words. He pulls down his sweats and his cock springs free, slapping against his abs and leaving a sticky smear against his tensing muscles. You whimper when he repeatedly taps his cockhead against your clit, even through the layers you’re wearing to cover it. Your toes curl. “Just the tip, sweetheart. C’mon, for me… been waiting so long for this.”

You don’t even answer before he hooks deft fingers into the waistline of your shorts. He leaves your panties, though. And you yelp as his fingers tease the pretty lace covering your drippy folds. He hums, he moans as his fingers run along the clothed length of your slit.

“You’re fucking soaking, baby. You need this cock, please. Let me fuck you. Why are you tryna deny yourself of a good time?”

And with that, you find yourself nodding dumbly.

He growls at your muted answer. It’s all he needs. It’s all he fucking needs and he’s happy his odd coloured eyes even manage to pick up on the gesture even in the dark. Could he have imagined it? He doesn’t know, nor does he care when your legs spread open for him like a flower once he moves your panties aside. The dewiness is cold against the crease of your thigh, but it’s barely noticeable as Oli spits down on your pulsing clit.

“Just the tip, o-okay?” you stutter.

“Mmm,” he answers. He hisses as your tight cunt swallows him, practically sucking in the head of his cock as soon as your entrance feels him. His eyes lose focus for a second and his breathing is erratic.

It’s happening.

It’s really happening.

He almost loses balance, hands settling on your bent knees so he can stabilise himself. You’ve been playing so hard to get for so long. And even you aren’t sure why.

He cups your face as he lowers his body on top of yours. His lips slot against your own as he kisses you passionately, though he breaks it soon enough.

“’m sorry.” he apologises. And you’re confused, only for a moment, before you feel his full-length plunge into your unprepped walls. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging and scratching over beautiful musculature and marking him like he’s yours “You’re fucking tight, baby.” he chuckles, kissing you again as his hips begin to gyrate.

“Oli, I said—”

“Don’t care.” he argues, already knowing what you’re about to say. “You feel too good. So tight f’me, princess. ‘n I’m making you feel good, yeah? Let me fuck you, stop thinking and take it.” he tells you, hips snapping harder to accentuate his point.

“Nngh—!” you moan, your nails still claw and mark at his back. He chuckles, darkly, as you draw blood. He doesn’t care, not in the least. He hadn’t expected you to be like this, but he can’t say he isn’t enjoying it. He kisses your neck as his thrusts get deeper and harsher. You feel his lips curve as you clench around him tighter.

He’s found your spot.

That perfect spot deep inside of your perfect cunt.

Your tight walls that now he’s certain were made for him to fuck. He pulls out, and it’s so brief. But the way you’re whimpering tells him how much of a good girl you are. You’re trained without even needing to cum. You’ve never been fucked so good.

After all of the sex you had with your ex, you didn’t know missionary could feel like this.

Doggy was always your favourite because it was the only time you could really feel anything with him. But this… you can feel him in your fucking throat. Your mind is blank as he pounds into you again and again at an unrelenting pace.

“Who’s making you feel good?” he mumbles into your ear. You feel close to passing out when he nibbles on your earlobe right after. Your cunt clenches and he laughs because he swears if you do that again you might actually break his cock. “Who’s fucking you so good, hm? Tell me who’s making your pretty pussy purr.”

“Y-You!” you gasp. “Oli, please! Please don’t stop.” you wail.

You can’t even feel embarrassed at the thought of anyone hearing you. Not when he’s dangling your first penetrative orgasm right in front of your face like a donkey with a hanging carrot. You mumble his name like it’s a prayer as he batters into your g-spot as if it were his soul reason for living.

“Waited too fuckin’ long for this,” he admits, the scruff of his facial hair scratches your skin as he gives you a filthy, sordid tongue kiss whilst continuing to assault the button deep within that will lead to your eventual ruin. And it’s close. It’s so fucking close and the two of you can feel it. “First time you’ve been fucked properly. That pathetic ex of yours—”

“D-Don’t,” you warn him, having no desire talking about your potential stalker when you’re so close to reaching your peak.

He grabs your face and squeezes until your lips pucker for him. Your eyes widen as he stares into them. You will listen to what he has to say, he’s making damn sure of it.

“Had a perfect pussy right in his face ‘n he didn’t know what to do with her.” he smirks. “No wonder you didn’t want him anymore.”

“Oli,” you sob. “Oli, please.”

“But I can make you cum.” he tells you. He frees your face and holds his hands under the bends of your knees. You feel every breath in your lungs escape as he folds you in half. He can’t help but laugh, not quite at your expense but it feels like that regardless. Only because he’s shocked. He can’t believe such a simple change could have you cumming so quickly for him. “Good girl, that’s it, baby.” he praises you.

“Haah, hah, aaaah! O-Oli! Mmmpf—!” you gasp, creaming around him pathetically as he drills his length in and out of you.

“I’ll make you cum t-that hard. Every fucking time, princess.” he stutters as he nears his own end. He isn’t sure, but he’s almost certain he sees your eyes cross as you cum for him. God you’re such a slut. He can’t believe you’ve been acting so coy and hard to get for so long. You’ll be addicted, now. You won’t be able to get enough now that you’ve experienced what a good fuck can really do for you. “Fuck. Fuuuuu-ck…” he finishes, still thrusting into you.

The warmth you feel coat your insides has your self esteem at an all time high. And you hate how much of a simple-minded girl you really are. As if guys won’t cum in anything they stick their dicks in if given the chance. And, still, you feel so special that Oliver Aiku chose you to be his own personal cum dump for the night.

His sweet words and ability to make you unravel make you feel more meaningful to him than you really are. He kisses you repeatedly before collapsing by your side. His seed dribbles out of your spent cunt and, now, you feel disgusting. But it doesn’t take long for him to catch his breath and move to spoon you again. He puts his softening length back inside, intent on keeping you plugged up with the goal of falling asleep like this.

“T-Thank you… Oli…” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak.

But a sweet kiss on your shoulder is all you needed from him.

“Oliver.” you whisper.

He grunts in response, and that’s all. You consider saying his name again. You consider saying it a little louder this time so he’ll hear you. But instead, you drop it. If anything, it’s probably a blessing. You raise your head a little to check where all of your belongings are. If he’s so out of it that he can’t even respond to his name, you should take the chance to sneak out before anyone can tease you about your antics.

You’re expecting an earful from Lacey. She’ll want to talk about every sordid detail. And, truthfully, you’d rather die. You’re embarrassed. You’re ashamed of yourself for even having sex on your mind when you’re dealing with a stalker.

The thought of the other guys seeing you is filling you with embarrassment, too. You know already without even seeing them that everyone knows what you did. You were so loud, both of you were. And in the moment, you didn’t care. Oliver didn’t either, but he’ll wake up not caring too.

Guys that hadn’t heard you fucking will have definitely been told by now. You’ll be greeted by smirks and torment on your way out of the frat. You should have known this would end up happening. It’s been obvious how much Oliver wanted this for a long time, and you held off, but last night you were weak.

So weak, and now you want to runaway from the scene of the crime.

You’re taken aback as you try and get out of bed but you’re pulled straight back into Oliver’s arms.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” he asks.

Fuck.

As if he couldn’t get any sexier, of course his morning voice is hot. It’s coarse and rugged and you instinctively melt back into his arms. You’ll tell him. You will tell him that you’re leaving. Right after you grind on him a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“I h-have to go,” you lie. “I’ve got things to do, Oli.”

“Mmm, don’t care. Got morning wood, feel it?” he asks. His arm snakes around your body and his palm flattens against your stomach so that your ass is pressed against his erection once again. “Can’t go ‘til you do something about it.”

“Oli I, aah, fu—! N-Not fair…” you mewl as his fingers dip into your panties and his fingers begin to play with your silky clit.

“Suck me off.” he commands, his touches on your clit become lighter and lighter until he stops completely. “I’ll finger you ‘til you’re droolin’ if you suck this cock f’me, princess.” he stuffs his wet fingers into your mouth so you can taste yourself. It catches you off guard, and you sputter around them. But as he continues to finger fuck your face, you begin to mewl around his thick digits. “Good girl, just suck my cock like that.”

He reaches behind his head and throws a pillow to the ground for you. He lifts you so you’re facing him, and can’t quite believe how seamlessly he manages to carry and move you exactly where he wants.

And then you remember, he’s experienced.

He sits on the edge of the bed whilst your legs are wrapped around his waist as you make out. He bites your lip and encourages you to drop to the ground. You nod, reluctantly, worried that you won’t be able to give the performance he’s hoping for.

But regardless, he watches as you move the pillow across the floor and between his feet so you can kneel on it.

You whimper a little as your legs widen as you kneel, feeling last nights ejaculate slowly drip out of you and onto his fresh, pristine pillow. He doesn’t care, though. His dick is soaked from your cunt and his pre. And it’s all you can think about as he lightly slaps it against your nose and lips.

Your jaw loosens and your mouth is a perfect ‘O’ shape for him to slot into. His fingers lace through your hair as he slowly lowers you onto his cock. You hadn’t noticed in the dark, but he’s uncircumcised. You’ve never seen a dick like his before.

Your hand wraps around his length as you take him into your mouth, but you soon pull away again. You can’t believe how much easier it is to work someone with foreskin.

He smirks, seeing the thoughts go through your head. He’s so sensitive and receptive and you’re clueless. He’s practically putty in your hands and yet you think he’s the one in control. You’re so cute and naïve.

He loves girls like you.

“Suck it, princess.” he commands. “S’not a toy, y’know. Suck my dick clean.”

You clear your throat before sinking down onto his length once again, finding a steady rhythm to suck and lick and take him down your throat. He’s average length, but he’s girthy. It’s hard to take, honestly. Compared to your pencil-dicked ex, your eyes are watering and you’re doing anything and everything not to choke or gag.

He sees it, too, he’s got a perfect view as he tugs at your hair to make sure you’re keeping eye contact with him as you suck him dry.

“That’s a good slut,” he smirks through a heavy breath. “Take this dick, jus’ like that…” he continues.

Your thighs squeeze together as he degrades you. You don’t like it, you don’t like that you’ve become a slut after being his princess. But at the same time, you love it. You want to hear it again. So you take him deeper. And deeper.

“Such a dumb girl letting that loser ex of yours stick his dick in you.” he says, licking his lips as he pushes your head lightly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as the pressure of his hand intensifies until your nose brushes against brunette curls, and then squishes against his pubis. “And now he’s stalking you… what do you think he’d do if he knew you were sucking this cock?” he asks, his voice breathy and desperate as his hips start to buck.

You try to pull away, but the barely trying effort of his hand keeping you in place is somehow stronger. He coos as you stutter, struggling to breathe through the desperation.

“Breathe through your nose, stupid.” he tells you. “Good cock makes pretty girls like you real dumb.” he smiles.

He yanks at your hair until you’re fully removed from his cock. Pre and dribble pools from your mouth as you gasp desperately. You want to be mad at him, you want to tell him not to speak to you like that.

But you can’t.

Not when his lips are on yours and you feel yourself getting off from the idea of him tasting himself on your tongue. You’re breathless and out of words when he breaks it momentarily, and the sound of tacky masturbation is like a tidal wave in your ears.

“My pretty little slut, aren’t you?” he asks, kissing you again before you can answer. You can’t answer when your head is so empty. Is that really what you are? It doesn’t matter, you suppose. He’s already decided for you. “God, don’t you have any self-respect? Don’t you think you deserve better than being a stupid slut for me?”

His face contorts as he jerks himself harder and faster. You’re too busy thinking about his question to notice, though. You suck his tip into your mouth before he forces you away. His intimidating glare telling you that he’s looking for an answer this time.

“M-Maybe…” you pout, eyes wet and wide as you wonder aloud. Do you deserve better? Isn’t this all your good for? He’ll keep you safe, at least. He seems to like you more than any other girl on campus. He’s the best fuck you’ve ever had and you’re way more into him than you’d ever let on.

And just the as word leaves your lips, he’s moaning boisterously. Your face painted in white, pearly cum. A showing of just how much worth you have in his eyes. It feels almost endless as he gives you a full facial, hissing as it drips from your eyelash and into your eye.

He scrapes some of it from your face and force feeds it into your mouth.

You’re disgusting, too, because you suck without question.

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” he laughs. He lifts you up from the ground and tosses you onto the bed with little care. You almost want to cry from the stinging sensation you feel in your eye. You should have left when you had the chance. Instead you’re starting off the morning and Oliver Aiku’s cum rag. You don’t feel much better when he throws your shorts at you. “Clean yourself up.”

You try your best, focusing the material around your eye area as you try to do some sort of damage control. You see him tuck his dick into his sweats with your unaffected eye, and he swaggers towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’ll get you a towel, wait here.” he tells you.

He hastens down the stairs and walks into the kitchen. The frat is bare, he suspects most of the guys must still be in bed. Though as soon as he rounds the corner, he notices Eita sitting at the kitchen table. They share a knowing smirk, silently celebrating the fact that Oliver finally got what he wanted out of you.

Oliver pours himself a bowl of cereal, leaning against the counter as he crunches it between his teeth. Eita looks up from his phone after a few moments of silence and finally speaks.

“Did you fuck her, then? Or—”

“Fucked her stupid. ‘n she sucked me off this morning.” he smirks, slurping the milk on his spoon as he thinks about your pretty face covered in his seed. “All thanks to you, my friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eita laughs, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and igniting it with a lighter from his pocket.

“No no, really, thank you.” he laughs, “I got to be her knight in shining armour when you called her last night. She was so easy to fuck after that.” he grins, holding a fist out for him to bump. Eita chuckles, trading which hand holds his cigarette before returning the gesture.

“You’re such a sick fuck.” Eita laughs, scrolling through his phone. “Look,” he shows his screen to Oliver. He can only laugh when he sees yet another article about the psycho serial killer that has made your anxiety worse than it already would be with a stalker on the loose.

“I’m not the one killing girls, am I?” Oliver comments, “Just scaring one girl with some heavy breathing.” he shrugs.

Even he isn’t twisted enough to think whoever this local serial killer is isn’t completely fucked up. But he can’t deny that it started happening at the perfect time. After he set his plan in motion to be your stalker. After he planted a seed in your mind that he’d always be there for you if you needed him. He’d always protect you no matter what happened, and he wasn’t about to let this stalker get to you.

You fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. You’re even starting to suspect your stupid limp dick ex because he told you to suspect him. Oliver Aiku, the guy who’s always around when you need him most. The guy who’s always just a phone call or text message away. The guy who’s always offered to be by your side and jump in harms way to protect you.

Oliver wasn’t even on your radar.

Perfect Oliver.

Sweet Oliver.

© 2024 rinhaler

[moonlight-prose]

WONDERING WHY

a/n: this is for the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline! i'm not gonna do the whole list cause i would stress myself out to an insane degree. but a few caught my eye. so i've thrown together some small fics for the man himself in the hopes of scattering them throughout october. this is also late one day cause of well me having a shitty time in life rn. but i hope y'all enjoy!

logan promptober: day six - cowboy

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: cowboy!old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI IT'S 18+ ONLY, romance, love, angst, longing, pining, they're obsessed with each other, filthy kissing, p in v sex, rough sex, spit, choking (sorta), calling the pussy her/she, he's an old man who fucks insanely well, feral old man logan.

Pale moonlight brushed across the Earth with strokes of paint. Stars were sprinkled along the night sky, glimmering in darkness as you leaned against the doorway of your home. The lantern flame flickered with each waft of cool air that breezed past you. Pooling inside where a fire cracked and sparked—offering enough warmth to keep you sated for the remainder of time.

At least until he returned home.

You listened for the familiar clop of hooves, the click of his tongue guiding the horse where to go. Hoping that eventually he’d turn the bend in the dirt road and find his way back to the safety of your shared bed.

This was a routine you knew well—one you found solace in as the days grew short and sunlight became sparse. In summer he often returned when the clock struck midnight; the weariness of a long day spent riding through towns and hunting with others was normal. If a little grueling. Although you never complained. You knew who he was when you met him—understood the ups and downs of what this relationship would be.

Logan wasn’t anything if true to his word right at the start. I’m not gonna be here every day sugar, but I’ll be here when you need me.

Eventually you’d have to blow out the lantern and amble back indoors. Calling it quits on yet another night spent alone. He didn’t like it when you were out past a certain time—raiders and hunters alike were more than willing to break in without remorse. Especially if they didn’t know who resided inside, who shared your bed on nights like tonight.

“I need you,” you sighed, shutting your eyes to the sight of an empty road.

They were empty words of hope strung together to make a wish on whatever star caught your eye. Rarely did they work. Although some nights you wondered if magic twined with your solemn prayer—summoning the man you so desperately wanted. It was wishful thinking, a well full of reverie you continuously drank from. Although maybe it was the poison that would one day cause you to drop dead. Maybe…Logan was a figment of all that you could never have.

He might not even exist.

Your eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the sky with anticipation of a falling star. The echo of hooves along dirt drew your attention from your nightly ritual—curiosity pulling you close and whispering promises of giving you everything you wanted. It was probably a stranger. Someone looking for an easy place to spend the night. Logan always told you to say no with a shotgun in your hands, and your body tensed in preparation to grab for the gun propped near the doorway.

Relief flooded your veins at the sight of a familiar dark brown leather coat, his hat tipped low enough to hide the eyes that loomed beneath—glinting with a darkness you'd only seen once or twice in your time together. Calloused and scarred hands gripped loosley at the reins as the horse trotted up the path—finding it's way home with ease.

There was a pull between the two of you. Insatiable and feral and strong enough to have him searching for you the second he drew closer to the house. Hazel eyes fatigued by the long trip back locked onto your form. Plush skin and curves hidden beneath layers of a dress you had yet to strip off.

You would leave that to him, knowing how much he enjoyed tugging at the strings of your corset—undoing the buttons to set you free.

"Gonna catch your fuckin' death," he muttered, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. You relished the sound, unable to stop your smile.

"I was waiting for you."

He huffed, wrapped the reins around the wooden fence he built steadily over the years—the leather bag on his saddle now strapped over his wide shoulder. "Shouldn't be waitin' on a man like me sugar."

"You always say that."

"And I'm always right."

"Would you prefer I wait on someone else?" you inquired, a challenge glinting in your eyes.

He bit back a growl, hand settling on your hip to drag you to the edge of the front step as he stepped to the one below. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

The possession in his eyes made your heart race, your fingers digging into the soft leather permeated by the scent of cigars smoked in various saloons. He felt familiar, a home you didn't know could exist within another person. The house you two built resided in his heart; the missing piece you searched for on nights spent without him. But now you had it in your grasp—fitting it back into place with a sigh of bliss.

The picture of peace finally pressed itself to your soul, caressing a part of your love that left each time he mounted his horse—the promise of coming home on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't found someone else yet, but I very well could-"

The rumble in his chest was layered with everything he'd never say with words. "Try it," he growled. "And I'll have to make a fuckin' graveyard out back."

Heat pooled rapidly into your stomach, elation fluttering through your heart. You knew an animal hid in the depths of his chest. Feral with claws and teeth that snapped at the thought of someone taking what was his. You'd never belong to someone else. You'd never want to. The echo of his words seared into your mind, a vow of forever etched into each vowel and consonant.

He was home. He was here. He was real.

"There's no one else," you murmured, leaning your forehead against his—lips brushing against his with each soft admission. "There could never be anyone else."

All that would go unspoken, all neither of you could say.

I love you. I'll love you forever. Whatever this is…it will only end when we're buried six feet under.

"Good," he replied gruffly. "Now give your old man a proper fuckin' welcome."

The smile you wore deepened as his warm hand cupped your cheek. His skin was dry from the leather and a few cuts were scattered here and there, but nothing could resemble this. The blooming heat that spread across your chest like the roots of an ancient tree. He held you with a tenderness that might have shocked you at first—the fear of harming you burning hot in his stomach.

But this was how he always touched you. With a love that couldn't be replaced. A promise soldified in the lines of his palm, fate driven and earthly bound, and yours forevermore.

Finding his lips beneath his hat, you let go of the breath held deep in your lungs. The taste of his cigars spread on your tongue. A familiar morsel of home you gravitated towards. Later in the evening—when you were both lethargic and naked and covered in all sorts of fluids—he'd puff on a brand new cigar. Giving you taste with lazy kisses and smiles traded in the dark of night.

"Missed you Logan," you mumbled, tongue sliding against his with a breathy moan. "I always miss you."

He chuckled, deep enough to vibrate against your chest—his hands sliding down to grip your waist. "You wanna show me how much?"

"You'd like that huh." Smiling into the kiss, you felt his teeth dig into your lips. He sucked it with a groan, fingers digging harshly into the layers of fabric.

"Mhm." His breath was harsh against your cheek, each kiss filled with a need to ravage what belonged to him. To prove he still held space in your heart. "Missed you every fuckin' day sugar."

You laughed, toying with the hair at the base of his skull—curling your fingers around it to tug him back. The moan he rewarded you with made saliva pool in your mouth. His eyes watched you, dazed with want, mouth parted and swollen from your kisses. And you burned the image of him in your mind.

"You wanna show me how much baby?" you breathed, brushing your lips to his with a teasing laugh.

A biting growl ripped from his throat. "Get inside before I take you out here."

"There's an idea."

The harsh slap to your hip dragged a peal of laughter out of your chest. Stumbling back, your hands yanking the hat off his heat and working the jacket down his arms, you kissed him as if you'd never get the chance to again. Wet and spit slicked. Until your teeth clashed together and his tongue was halfway down your throat. Each moan that dripped from his mouth into yours felt like a fucking reward.

A blissful reminder that you weren't alone; he stood before you, frenzied and aching to feel your skin on his.

Logan couldn't figure out how he wound up in this haven. A home, a lover that stole his breath with each look, and forever right on the horizon. Years spent alone only offered the promise of torment, of a life overflowing with an endless amount of pain.

But for some unknown reason, the sun that used to sear his skin now stood before him lighting the pathway home. The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

Desire simmered sharply in the base of your stomach the further you got into the house—his teeth biting down to the column of your throat, fingers toying with the laces of your corest. He devoured you like a sweet thing to be had. A treat he rarely got to partake in tasting. And fuck if he wasn't going to take his time. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and off his body with a hoarse shout of glee—nails piercing the flesh of his shoulders as he yanked your leg around his hip.

He practically dragged you to the small bedroom, tearing off the clothing as he went with harsh snarls of want. You'd worry about mending the fabric later in the morning. Or perhaps the day after that. Given how you could feel the heft of his cock through his pants, pressing to your stomach with each small shift of your body.

"On the bed." The command was punctuated with a slap to your ass—a sharp bite against the skin of your collarbone drew a soft moan to the surface.

He tugged the front of your corset down, dropping to the ground with the remainder of your skirts. Baring yourself to Logan with a smile, you felt the emptiness slip down onto the wood of the bedroom floor. Expelling from your body with each panted breath and soft carress. He turned you inside out with the smallest of actions—the barest of touches.

The time he spent alone and wrapped in thoughts of you became all he lived off of. Your memory turned into the reason he stayed alive.

Unlike so much of his life he now held an answer to why he dragged himself home. Why he forced himself to keep going.

"Lemme see her." His hand wrapped around your leg, pulling open your thighs for him to catch a glimpse of what lay between.

You'd been dripping since he arrived. A sticky wet mess that begged for his attention. Logan salivated at the sight, his eyes zeroing in on the way you glistened for him. On any other night he'd sit you on his face in a quick attempt at gaining the close proximity he longed for when he was gone. Tonight served for a different want—a biting need that dug its teeth into his skin.

"She missed me huh," he mumbled, thumb sliding through your wet folds.

You moaned, breathy and restless. "She did baby."

"'M gonna give her what she needs."

"Logan," you sighed, hand outstretched for him to take. "Need you close."

Every nerve lit like a fuse when he gifted you with a full smile. "I will sugar. Lemme just look at ya first huh?"

With a nod you let your legs spread apart, arms draped above your head. The sight of you stole his breath, but you didn't fare any better. His skin scattered with scars you kissed a thousand times over still rendered you incapable of speaking. Hell you weren't even sure you'd taken a breath since he walked through the door.

Though his body was worn and his hair was graying, you couldn't deny he remained the most beautiful man you ever set your eyes on.

"Like what you're lookin' at?"

Your grin was lazy, eyes overflowing with a language Logan once thought he'd never learn yet now could be considered fluent in. Love.

"I really do," you whispered, sharing the secret with him. The words rarely spoken were shouted at the top of your lungs in each loving praise.

He shook them off when you first met him. Claimed they were false words to make yourself feel better about loving an animal who walked and talked like a human. Although, over time he allowed them to sink into his skin, bathe over his broken and weary soul.

They held him together like a ribbon tied through his soul, placed neatly in a bow on his heart.

His hand was swift in undoing his belt, pushing the remainder of his clothes off to join yours heaped on the floor. And you drank in the sight of the man you adored climbing over your body with a hungry gaze. Your heart flipped, grip sliding along his back as you welcomed him in between your legs—the heavy weight of his cock a warm press against your thigh.

"Welcome home." The smile melded into the kiss he placed on your lips, tongue sliding in the curve along your teeth, to taste every bit of you he could reach.

Bucking your hips into his, you dug your nails into his lower back in the hopes that he'd move. He swallowed your whine, spit trailing down your chin when he pulled back to catch his breath. Moving slowly never worked for you—entirely used to the man who broke you with the intent of putting you back together—and right now was no exception. The torment of not having him tore at your heart, put a splinter in the longing simply to crack you in two even further.

"Hold still," he grunted, his hand shoving your hips back onto the bed. "Movin' so fuckin' much I'm gonna have to tie you down."

Your gasp was wet—needy. "Please. Fuck please-"

"Right." His other hand slid up your torso to rest against the base of your throat—thumb running along the smooth skin that covered your racing pulse. "I forgot who you are, sugar. You'd like that huh?"

Teeth tore at your bottom lip, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide the longer he held you there. Anticipation fried your nerves with each second that passed. But Logan wasn't a cruel man. He knew what you ached for—what you'd give up everything for. The closeness of the man you loved; a chance to have his body, heart, and soul.

Gripping himself, he tapped his cock against your clit, sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. A smile bloomed across his lips at your responding moan—fire streaking down your spine, curling along your limbs. He could drive you to madness and yet you'd thank him each time.

You would be grateful for anything he gave you.

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

He sunk in with a smooth thrust, stretching you with slickened pain and a hoarse moan against the shell of your ear. And you forgot how to breathe. The pinch of pain quickly dampened with the roll of his hips—the head of his cock pressing snugly against your walls. This is what you missed, what your body screamed for.

The potent euphoria that drowned you under its vicious waves.

"So tight," he grunted. "Guess she really did miss me."

"Logan-" Your head tipped back into the pillows, a loud moan breaking the silence that curled over your bodies like a blanket.

"There she is." Pulling back slightly, he slammed back into you, nearly shoving you up the bed. "My pretty little songbird."

Nothing held you back from the sounds he drew out of your mouth. Each one louder than the last. Until the room was filled with a symphony of your combined pleasure, the vulgar echo of skin slapping against skin and your slick dripping down onto the bed, became all you could think about.

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

A harsh thrust that struck against the sensitive spongy part of your walls had your knees clamping around his hips—your fingers scratching at his back to get him to slow down. You needed a chance to breathe, to regain some sense. Logan merely smiled, his fingers tightening around your throat to drag your head up. His lips slotting against yours in a messy kiss.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

"T-Too much-"

The angle changed sharply and suddenly he was no longer grinding into you but fucking right on that spot. A sharp sob of his name only added fuel to the quickly forming flame, quickening his movements until you felt your entire body begin to grow taut.

Slick smeared on the inside of your thighs, sticky and warm and loud enough to make you dizzy each time you heard it. He panted into your mouth, using the hold on your throat as leverage to fuck you back onto his cock.

Logan didn't love softly. He couldn't. Brutality was all he was capable of giving you and like the sweetest angel you took it with a smile. You let him use you up until his name was all you could comprehend. The heady scent of his sweat filled your senses, the salty tang of his skin spread along your tongue as you bit into his shoulder—your teeth marring his already marked skin.

Eventually it would turn purple, fading quicker than usual, but he'd wear it with pride. His own trophy after tearing you apart beneath him.

"Gonna cum?" he asked, mouthing at your breast, moaning at the taste of your skin. "I can feel it."

You nodded frantically, body going taut with each slap of his hips on yours. "C-Can I?"

"So fuckin' polite," he groaned, sucking on your nipple before letting it loose with a pop. Spit dripping down to your stomach. "'Course you can sugar."

Tugging at his hair, you felt the tremble in your thighs spread to the rest of your body. His other hand slipped between your bodies, thumbing at your throbbing clit with a soft moan, dragging you right to the edge of a cliff. A sharp grind of his hips broke the dam within you, flooding you with a mind numbing bliss that scorched your skin.

You cried his name until your throat went raw, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks that he licked up with a smile. The fluttering of your walls dragged a hoarse shout from his chest, his teeth clamping down onto any part of he could reach. He followed you instantly, shoving his cock deep enough to hurt as he filled you with enough cum to spill out.

The echo of your breaths resounded off the wooden walls, his hand dipping down to smear his cum along the inside of your thighs. Coating you in his essence; claiming you with his scent that burned the inside of his nose.

"I did you know," you mumbled, kissing the newly formed bruise on his skin. "Miss you."

He sighed, his forehead dropping to yours. "I know sugar. I missed you too."

"Will you stay this time?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his lips, hips rolling into yours to pull another weak moan from those pretty lips he longed to kiss. "As long as ya want me."

The hesitancy clamped around your heart, filling your stomach with anxiety. You wanted to beg him to never leave again, to spend each moment in the safety of this house. But Logan had always been a ramblin man. He'd never stay in one place too long. Even if eventually he found his way back here, back in the safety of your home.

"Forever?" you breathed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Logan's heart twisted at the sight. "Yeah sugar," he replied, dipping down to drag his lips along yours. "I like the sound of that.”

[yearning-for-autumn]

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

[zegrasdrysdale]

I have a request could you do where the reader is dating Jack Hughes and she is a singer and she is on tour and the whole Hughes family pull up to her concert and Trevor and Cole come too and he just can;t stop smiling up at her and after the consent they have a Taylor and Travis moment where he is everyone is waiting for her and she runs up to Jack to hug him

[ the alchemy ] j. hughes

➾ paring : Jack Hughes x famous!fem!reader

➾ summary : after boyfriend Jack, his family and a couple of his friends, reader runs up to him after and confirming the rumors surrounding their relationship

➾ warning(s) : a pov switch, an occasional use of “y/n” in Jack’s pov

➾ author’s note : been wantinggg to write something like this so ty anon for sending this in. also, i’m just using the alchemy as an original song for our reader in this fic. literally no other taylor song will be used lmaooo

༺═──────────────═༻

⦗Jack’s POV ⦘

He hasn’t been back to Jersey since before the shoulder surgery that took him out for the last handful of games of the season. There's a sense of déjà vu when his flight from Michigan lands. Jack feels good though, unlike the last time he was in Jersey, and has been medically cleared to resume light activity.

Light activity means attending his girlfriend’s first show of three at MetLife without his sling on. He has yet to see her play on this insane tour she’s been on for the past few months because of the surgery and watching the Canucks in the playoffs.

Jack’s been good and has been following his doctor’s orders so he feels like this would be a good way to celebrate.

After reaching out to his girlfriend’s security team, Jack got his family and a couple of friends permission to be in the VIP tent for one show. He has full access to the tent being her boyfriend, but he has to get permission to bring friends or family that aren’t her friends or family that is already on the list. He asked for his request to be kept between them since he’s trying to surprise her.

Will she find out anyway? Probably. He’s a big name in the hockey world, especially in New Jersey. Jack’s pretty sure the news will spread when he shows up before her set with his family. Especially with all the rumors surrounding their relationship.

Trevor and Cole even fly into Jersey after Jack told them that they could come to the show if they wanted. He picks them up from Newark International that morning. He goes to Luke’s apartment instead of the apartment he shares with (Y/N) since the two of them might want some privacy after the show. Quinn and his parents are already there when he walks in with his friends.

His mom sits with Quinn and Luke on his couch when he walks in with his friends. Trevor and Cole greet the oldest and youngest Hughes while Jack collapses on the couch beside his mom.

“Does your shoulder hurt?” Ellen questions. “Because I brought your medicine with us-”

“It’s okay,” Jack tells his mom. “I brought some with me and took one before I picked up Trevor and Cole. It feels good right now.”

She nods while Trevor and Cole put their things away in Luke’s only extra bedroom.

Jack has no idea what their sleeping arrangements are going to be tonight but he knows that their parents got a hotel room nearby while Quinn, Trevor, and Cole all stay at Luke’s. He offered them the extra bedrooms in the apartment he shares with his girlfriend but they told him that they weren’t interested in hearing what happens when they get home after the show. He wasn’t going to press on the issue so he dropped it.

Around three, Jack leaves Luke’s apartment with Trevor and Cole. The trio head to his shared apartment because he knows that (Y/N) has left to go to the arena. Jack is very much aware of when she leaves for shows. She likes to get there early to soundcheck, costume try ons, do a little rehearsal backstage, and decompress before a show. Especially one this big.

He changes out of his casual t-shirt and loose sport shorts into something more presentable. He throws on a dark blue button up and a pair of jeans. He puts on a hat and a pair of white sneakers to complete the look.

Of course, his friends tease him about his outfit.

“You could go without the hat,” Trevor says. “I mean, you’re seeing your girlfriend for the first time in how long and you’re wearing a hat? She likes your matted hair for whatever reason.”

He rolls his eyes. “My hair is not matted,” he retorts. “Sometimes a little greasy from sweating and being trapped under a helmet but not matted.”

Cole laughs and Jack grabs his keys from the little table by the door. “Just saying,” Trevor replies. “Just looking out for you, Jacky. All eyes are going to be on you until your girl comes on stage tonight.”

He nearly shuts and locks them in his apartment for the night after that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

⦗ reader’s POV ⦘

Another show, another city. She loves touring and love interacting with the people that gave her this opportunity, but it takes a toll on her after a while. She’s exhausted and she hasn’t even made it to the European leg of the tour yet.

Plus, it’s hard being away from family and friends for weeks and months at time. She hasn’t seen her parents since before she left to tour and FaceTime has become her best friend when she wants to talk to any of her friends or her boyfriend. Especially her boyfriend.

There are no words to express how much she misses Jack and being able to be with him.

She misses their movie nights where they'd fall asleep on the couch with a bowl of popcorn on one of their laps and the next morning it would be all over the floor. She misses the late night cuddles and morning kisses. She even misses when Jack would be late for bed after coming home from a game and he'd just watch film from said game. She loves to join him and he just talks her through every play. It's how she learned more than just the hockey basics that she already knew from watching with her dad when she was younger.

While she's in her dressing room after rehearsals and soundcheck, she pulls out her phone and text Jack since he's been on her mind for a little bit.

hughesy ♡ - 3:04 pm miss you. wish you were here tn

hughesy ♡ - 3:06 pm wish i was there too. you're gonna kill it like you always do (i've been living on tiktok since tour started so i can watch videos people post)

hughesy ♡ - 3:10 pm still. wish you could be here tn. i'd like to see you in the crowd at least once before i leave for the european part of the tour :((

hughesy ♡ - 3:13 pm you will. pinky promise

hughesy ♡ - 3:14 pm can't break a pinky promise, jack

hughesy ♡ - 3:16 pm you know i don't. i love you. see you soon 🤍

With a light sigh at Jack's promise to see her on tour, she puts down her phone and leans back where she sits on the loveseat. Her eyes close for a second and she imagines Jack being in the crowd for one of her shows. Especially after she debuts her new song tonight that she wrote with Jack in mind.

She should probably tell him that she wrote a song about him that will basically confirm their entire relationship. She wrote it to sound like sports in general but everyone will know that it's about Jack. They've all but publicly confirmed their relationship at this point so everyone will absolutely know that the song is about Jack.

The next few hours fly by as she begins to get into her first costume of the night -- a sparkly silver bodysuit made with thin fabric and a pair of matching heeled ankle boots. Hair and makeup come in as soon as she's dressed to get her ready for the several hour show she's about to put on in the hot New Jersey air since it's the dead of summer.

By eight, she's itching to get on stage in front of her hometown crowd. She's underneath the stage with a microphone waiting for her cue to go up.

Her music begins to play and the lights go out. The crowd screams as her platform begins to rise. She pops up right before the lights go on and she opens the show with one of the first songs she ever released when she was literally a 16-year-old out of New York. No one had ever heard her before and a record label took a risk on her after a couple of YouTube covers that got maybe 100 views each.

After her first song, she glances at the VIP tent to see who decided to come. She sees a handful of her Hollywood friends that live in New York City, one or two of her friends that she's made in Jersey over the past few years.

Then she sees Trevor Zegras. Cole Caufield stands in front of him. Luke and Quinn come into view next. Jack is right behind his brothers. Ellen and Jim are with them as well. She can't help but smile when she sees Jack.

The crowd around the tent turns and looks to see what she's smiling at. They lose it and she hears shouts of "Jack Hughes" from that area of the crowd.

Her band begins to play the next song and she jumps right back into the show. Jack being at the show is on the back of her mind. She forgot how good he looks without his arm in a sling. He looks really good, and she can't do anything about it right now.

The surprise portion of the night comes too quickly, but she's excited now that she knows that Jack is in the crowd for her debuting song.

She stands in front of her microphone stand and glances toward the tent where Jack stands. The crowd talks amongst themselves while she prepares herself for the next few minutes.

Everything is going to change in about five minutes.

"I have been debating giving you guys this song since I wrote it a few months ago," she begins to say into her mic. "It's one of my favorite songs that I have ever written, and you will understand why soon. This song is very much unreleased and this is the first time it has ever seen daylight so please be gentle with her. This is my gift to you for everything you have given me over the last few years. This is called 'The Alchemy'."

The crowd absolutely loses their minds when she's done talking. The beginning chords begin to play and she begins to sing these words live for the very first time.

This happens once every few lifetimes These chemicals hit me like white wine

What if I told you I'm back? The hospital was a drag Worst sleep that I ever had I circled you on a map I haven't come around in so long But I'm coming back so strong

Every so often, she turns her head toward the tent like she's singing the song to Jack. It's really to check on his reaction to the song. She spots the huge smile on her boyfriend's face and she mirrors it as she sings.

Flashlights are in the air as she sings since the crowd doesn't know the words. This is what she means by the connection she has with her audience. They always find a way to participate in the show, and she loves them for it. They are what makes this fun.

So when I touch down Call the amateurs and Cut 'em from the team Ditch the clowns, get the crown Baby I'm the one to beat Cause the sign on your heart Said it's still reserved for me Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

The crowd loses their minds when they hear the sports reference. She grins before she begins the second verse, once again glancing over at Jack. Trevor is saying something to him, but Jack's eyes are on her. He nods at whatever Trevor is saying without even looking at him.

Her smile grows as she begins her favorite part of the song. She turns her head and looks directly at Jack in the tent.

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads Beer sticking to the floor Cheers chanted, cause they said There was no chance, trying to be The greatest in the league Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

As soon as the last line leaves her mouth, the crowd is deafening. She smiles as she's met with such a positive reaction to the song. The crowd gets even louder when the song actually ends. She takes a step back and takes in this moment because it's going to live with her for a very long time.

The crowd keeps the same kind of intensity for the rest of the show, which is about another hour at least. She may have pushed it a little longer as a thank you to the crowd for being so kind to her.

A part of her can't wait to get off stage to greet her boyfriend for the first time in months. She told security to go get him, his family, and his friends from the tent during the last song because she can't wait any longer to hug him, kiss him, and tell him how much she loves and missed him.

She doesn't care how many eyes will be on her when she goes running to him backstage. She just confirmed their entire relationship to millions of people, maybe even billions of people. The last thing she's worried about is how many pairs of eyes are on her when she sees Jack for the first time since his surgery.

The platform she's standing on at the end of the show goes down under the stages once she's done thanking the crowd, her band, her dancers, and her backup singers. She scrambles off of it before it stops moving and is off running to find Jack.

Her heels click as she runs under the stage. She's blinded by the stadium lights when she emerges backstage. Some of the crowd that can see her cheers for her when they see her. It happens at all of her shows. Her eyes scan the entire area before they land on Jack talking with younger brother Luke outside the tent that leads back into the stadium and the dressing room areas. She takes off sprinting.

Jack glances in her direction and smiles when he sees her. The crowd notices him and gets even louder when they realize who is waiting for her.

When she gets to him, she throws herself around him. Suddenly, it becomes just the two of them alone in the world. She buries her face in the crook of his neck and closes her eyes. Jack wraps his arms around her, one of his hands cradling the back of her neck.

"Told you I never break my pinky promises," Jack mumbles into her ear through her hair.

She pulls back and cups his jaw in her hands. Jack dries the tears that she didn't even know began to roll down her cheeks. "You're really here," she says, her voice shaky and hoarse from the show. "I can't believe you're really here."

He grins and nods. "I'm here, and I'd really like it if you would kiss me because I have been waiting months to kiss you," he tells her.

She captures his lips in a long kiss with no hesitation. The remaining crowd loses their minds above her and she smiles as Jack reciprocates the kiss. It's a kiss that's on the quicker side but it feels like an eternity.

"Are you ready for all this?" she questions, motioning around her as she asks the question. "You've always been watching behind the curtain but are you ready for all the eyes to be on you?"

"It's not much different than the eyes I already have on me," he admits. "I already have a ton of eyes on me so yes, I'm ready to share this entire life with you. Now that I've seen you on stage, I don't think I'll be able to stop watching you. You looked stunning up there."

The biggest grin forms on her face. "I missed you, Jack," she tells him. "So much."

"You're not going months without seeing me again," he promises. "I'll make sure of it."

And she believes every single word.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[luvkyu]

makeup ( hong seunghan )

seunghan needs help doing his makeup

content : 1k words, male reader, fluff, boyfriend!seunghan, gamer!reader, light kissing, reader calls sh baby

note : i needed a break from working on the mingyu fic so here's some fluff :) i also wrote this in second pov - i usually write in third but i think i might start using second more!

"help."

seunghan dropped a bag of makeup in front of you, a few items spilling out onto your desk.

"with?" you asked. he frowned when you didn't look up from the game on your computer. you seemed tense and focused in your dimly lit bedroom, wearing your expensive looking headset.

"you do makeup better than me," seunghan explained, nudging the bag toward you. "i'm meeting some people at a club tonight and i wanna look good."

"hey guys, i'll be right back," you spoke into the mic of your headset. seunghan smiled triumphantly. he could hear the faint groans and protests from your friends, but you paid them no mind and looked up at your boyfriend from your seat.

"what people?" you asked. you poked around in the bag a little before looking at seunghan again intently.

"eunseok and sohee. and they said there's some other people coming that i haven't met before."

you nodded and smiled at him. "that sounds fun."

seunghan nodded eagerly, "yeah, i'm excited!"

you liked seeing seunghan all happy and jittery. he didn't go out very often unless it was with you, so you enjoyed seeing him make more friends.

"let me go get my brushes."

seunghan nodded again, watching you walk off to the bathroom. he could still hear the voices of some of your friends talking through the headset that now laid on your desk. he grinned and put it on while taking a seat in your chair.

"hi guys!"

"is that seunghannie??"

"yes, hi!!" seunghan smiled widely at the sound of shotaro's voice. after almost four years of being with you, he'd grown to love your friends.

"thanks for taking y/n away from us!" anton joked sarcastically.

"sorry, what can i do? he's obsessed with me," seunghan replied.

"and who wouldn't be obsessed with you, baby?" you chimed in as you came back to the bedroom.

seunghan smiled at that response. his eyes widened a little when you were suddenly right in front him as he sat, your eyes gazing at him lovingly. you leaned down farther toward the mic while keeping your eyes on him.

"i'm actually just gonna log off, guys. i'll talk to you tomorrow," you spoke. the complaints and shouts of your friends were disregarded as you gently took the headset off of your boyfriend. you could practically hear his heart beat through his chest beneath you, making a tiny smirk curve on your lips. you finally broke eye contact to look at your computer instead. you closed the game and turned the system off completely.

"you didn't have to leave, it won't take long to do makeup," seunghan assured. he grabbed the sleeve of your shirt and tugged on it with a frown, but you shook your head.

"i was getting tired anyways."

"mm, okay.."

"so what do you want me to do?" you asked as you began setting up. you sat on the edge of your bed and pulled the chair he stole from you closer.

"i was thinking something kinda subtle-ish, but i like all the pretty details you do."

you smiled, "alright, i can do that then."

seunghan sat and watched you begin to lay a thin layer of foundation on his face. he felt like he was in a trance. he found you mesmerizing.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you asked quietly.

"sorry, i'm just.." seunghan felt himself blush a little. "you're really hot," he blurted out.

you stifled a laugh and continued to blend the makeup onto his skin.

"says you?" you counter back.

"shut up." seunghan smiled and looked down, a reflex of his when he felt like he needed to hide himself.

you gently took his chin and lifted it back up. "i need to see your face, baby."

seunghan nodded and closed his eyes. he let you continue your work for a while while he fidgeted with his hands in his lap. it was a nice, comfortable quiet in your bedroom. seunghan loved enjoying the little things like this with you.

when his eyes opened again, they were locked on you instantly. his gaze shifted to your lips numerous times, but you were paying too much attention to the makeup to notice. eventually your face inched closer to his, and he took the chance to place a quick kiss on your lips. you were a bit taken aback, but immediately broke into a smile.

"listen, are you here to make out or get your makeup done?"

seunghan laughed at your question. "is both an option?"

"no," you replied. "because once we start kissing too much then you will not be going out tonight.."

seunghan watched as you leaned away from him on purpose. he smiled mischievously and ran his hands along your thighs.

"well that's fine too! i don't have to go out tonight."

you shook your head and chuckled. "no, you haven't hung out with your friends in forever. go out and have fun."

he pouted dramatically. "you won't be worried about me meeting new guys?"

"nope."

"what?? i have so much rizz game, you should be worried."

you snickered at his bickering efforts before giving in and awarding him with one more kiss.

"i'm not worried because i trust you."

seunghan shut up at those words.

"okay, that's really sweet.." he muttered. "but what if i wanna stay home with you now?"

"tell you what," you said. "you go out and have a good time with your friends. drink, take stupid pictures, meet some new people. i'll even come pick you up if you really want to leave early. and then tomorrow, we can do whatever you want."

seunghan sighed. "promise?"

"i promise."

"fine."

"good," you replied happily. "all done now. go have fun, baby."

"thank you, y/n."

"of course. call me if you need anything, okay?"

seunghan nodded with a dorky smile. "and you call me if you start to miss me too much."

"oh, i will, hannie. don't worry."

seunghan grabbed his bag and pranced off to leave your shared apartment, but not before rushing back to kiss you one more time.

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[ladyymiisa]

UP SO LATE?

summary: a late night visit from your sweet boyfriend!

tags: hawks x fem!reader, fluff, a bit of spice but it’s barely there like you have to squint to see it

author’s note: YEAAAHHH WE ARE SO BACK BABY i’ve had this idea for months now im so glad i could finally write it out it was eating me up 🤞 also on a scale of 1 to 10 how wiling would you guys be to read obey me fics 😋

it happens during the late hours of the night, when you're completely worn out from a long day of work, after you've showered, applied all of the lotions in your bathroom, and changed into your coziest pajamas. by the time you’re usually done, your eyes can barely stay open from how tired you are, and all you can think about is sleep.

just like clockwork, right as you settle into the most comfortable position in bed, you hear it: three knocks on your balcony door—one firm, two light. the all too familiar signal that announces his presence.

despite the tiredness weighing down your limbs and your body’s desperate plea to stay cocooned in the warmth of your blankets, the excitement of seeing him always overcomes your exhaustion. it drives you to get out of bed quickly, your feet carrying you eagerly to the balcony to let keigo inside.

a fact about keigo is that he never fails to arrive with some sort of gift for you. whether it’s a small flower he picked up on his way or a box of chocolates he knows you particularly enjoy, he always comes bearing something. perhaps it’s his way of compensating for the lateness of his visits.

tonight is no different. without even glancing at the shopping bag he’s holding, you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

the action causes keigo to let out a surprised sound, which quickly shifts into an amused chuckle. as he adjusts the bag with the help of two feathers, balancing it effortlessly so that the contents inside don’t get damaged, he embraces you back just as tightly. his warmth, mingled with the faint scent of his cologne and the crisp night air, envelops you entirely, making you acutely aware of just how much you had missed him during the day.

“looks like someone’s quite eager to see me,” keigo remarks teasingly, his voice partially muffled by your hair as he plants a gentle kiss to your head. “you almost knocked the daylights out of me, babe.”

instead of giving keigo a verbal response, you nuzzle further into his shoulder, concealing your burning cheeks from his view. he laughs again, which prompts you to grumble softly against his jacket.

“keep acting cheeky and you might end up sleeping on the balcony,” you warn keigo, drawing back from the embrace to face him directly. despite your words, your arms remain looped comfortably around his neck.

now that you can clearly see his face, you take notice of the faint blush reaching the tips of his ears. sly bastard, he has the audacity to tease you as if he were any better. fortunately for him, being the considerate girlfriend that you are, you decide to refrain from commenting on it.

unfortunately for you, keigo’s fluster is short-lived. he quickly becomes more daring as his hands, which were previously caressing the small of your back, move to rest on your hips. he gives them a gentle squeeze, drawing you closer to his body while his fingers trail lightly along your sides.

honey-shaded eyes gaze at you devilishly. your warning appears to have no effect on keigo; if anything, it seems to amuse him further.

he hums softly, a lazy grin playing on his lips. “oh, really? you’d actually deprive your poor, overworked boyfriend of your warm bed?” he leans in, voice dropping to a low murmur. “and your touch? your warmth?”

before you can even register it, his lips begin to trace a path of feather-light kisses from your cheek to your jaw, gradually moving towards your neck with slow, carefully practiced pecks. he’s clearly aware of the effect he has on your body, for the moment his teeth intentionally bite into that particular spot that has your mind short-circuiting, any retort you had prepared fades away. the way he works you up so easily is enough to erase any trace of tiredness from your body, replacing it with newfound excitement instead.

your arms tighten their hold around his neck. he feels the way your fingers entangle themselves into his hair, giving it a firm tug. the sensation causes him to emit a low, appreciative grunt against your skin. as keigo continues to kiss, lick and suck along your neck, you find yourself unable to suppress the soft moans that fall from your lips any longer. the moment his ears pick up on them, he promptly lifts you, his hands moving beneath your ass to support your weight.

without any complaints, you wrap your legs around his waist, allowing yourself to yield completely to his touch. at this point, there’s no use in trying to fight back. you’re in for a long, long night.

as keigo slides the balcony door open and carries you into the bedroom, he takes care that his feathers place the shopping bag carefully on your desk. seems like you won’t be needing the lingerie set inside it tonight. no matter, he’ll ensure that you find use for it next time.