#sense of the word. an intense aroma.

[fagmegumi]

i think ur alright. u give me vibes of this old gay portuguese movie i used to love watching but way more rancid. i also assume u are italian and i have beef with the italians (not telling what about) so ur on thin ice.

This ask is so fascinating only three sentences but it feels like an entire universe. also please whats the movie….

[retrosabers]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3

[comatosebunny09]

heavy | sylus q.

— summary: who takes care of the person busy caring for everyone else? sylus. the answer is sylus. — cw: female!reader, fingering, unprotected intercourse, naughty things done in a bathtub, creampie, alcohol mention, pet names, slight choking, allusions to depression and anxiety, explicit language, praise kink, not proofread, kinda rough sex, mdni — wc: ~3.4K — dividers by: @grabby-smitten — now playing: truman show - merges & l3gion

It begins with a steady pressure behind your eyes. 

Untreated, it blossoms into something more intense, seeping through your temples like spilled liquid, and the pain borders unbearable. You can’t focus on your work, the harsh glow of your monitor worsening your plight.

You snatch your glasses from your face. Attempt to ease the pressure with kneading fingers. Pinch the bridge of your nose. Sigh. It’s useless; your vision blurs around the edges, and your head is pounding as if your brain’s seeking release from your skull.

You don’t notice Captain Jenna behind you. Jump when she comes to you in the form of a firm hand on your shoulder, voice soft. “You should go home to get some rest,” she suggests through a pitying smile.

You don’t protest. There’s more to her words than a simple plea. It’s an order, and you’re smiling small, already gathering your things and slinking out of your cubicle. 

You’re grateful for the reprieve. Maybe a restart will help ease the weight off your shoulders.

—

Something smells divine.

It jumpstarts your appetite, the rich scent of herbs and meat seeping through the cracks of your apartment door. You didn’t realize how hungry you were, your stomach snarling whilst you ease your key into the lock. 

You can’t remember if you left something in the oven. Can’t be bothered to recall much of anything, your head still pulsing like a war drum. Your curiosities are sated once you slide into your home, and the aroma is stronger here. Hearty, nearly lifting you into the air to carry you to the kitchen like one of those old-school cartoons.

You meander into your kitchen after dropping your pack by the door—by a pair of designer, red-stained loafers twice the size of your own feet. Your suspicions are confirmed when you catch sight of a familiar shock of white and broad shoulders nestled between your humble decor and drab cabinets.

Never mind how he got here because you’re reining in a giggle. He’s wearing the frilly Kiss Me apron you got him as a joke gift a few months back. Humming something, bobbing his head before he acknowledges you over a broad shoulder. His scarlet eyes are mirthful, and the soft grate of his voice is enough to put you to sleep.

“You’re home early.”

You smile, tired and swollen-eyed, leaning against the doorframe. Study him over crossed arms. He’s busy with something on the stove. Concocting something delicious, and your stomach reminds you that it’s empty and you’re cruel.

“Jenna kicked me out.”

His shoulders shake with a chuckle when he returns his attention to the pot and wooden spoon in his hands. “Good. I take it you’ve only sustained yourself on coffee and air today.” Stopping, he peers at you again, a knowing lift to his brow. 

You sputter, the heat of embarrassment prickling your neck. He knows you too well. You’re an ass who often neglects yourself, pushing food and sleep to the backburner in favor of shouldering everyone else’s burdens. 

You pout, caught red-handed. The man in your kitchen chuckles. Sets the spoon down, and you watch him stride across the tiles for something. 

He comes to you with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, already pouring the red, viscid fluid into a wine glass. Slender fingers brush over yours when he eases the glass into your hand. He angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied and red-blooded on the lips. A kiss that leaves you reeling. Craving more, the warm scent of his skin hijacking your senses as you tug on the collar of his shirt.

You whine when he pulls away, and he’s all smug smiles that crease the corners of his eyes when he steps back to tend to dinner.

A tide of warmth wades over your skin. You smile against the rim of your glass, grateful to have someone who knows you sometimes better than you know yourself.

Drinking might not be the best decision for you right now. But you haven’t the heart to tell him, watching with all the fondness of the world as he buzzes around the kitchen like a Disney princess.

—

Dinner will be ready in 30.

In the meantime, Sylus shepherds you into your bathroom, insisting you settle in with a bath. 

It’s lavender-scented inside your bathroom, the warm, wet steam washing over your cheeks. Greeted by the dull hum of the ventilation and the sound of rain lazily falling onto the world beyond your window.

You’re exhausted and hanging on by a thread. Don’t think you could manage the task of undressing on your own. So, he’s gentle as he props you on your counter, stripping you of your clothes, touching you like something to be revered.

His lashes bow when he swoops in to adorn your bare shoulders and the swell of your chest with kisses. Your body responds in kind when he nears your pebbling nipples, though he doesn’t grace them with the lazy drag of his lips. 

He promised you he would be good. At least until you’re washed up, fed, and comfortable.

He brands your skin to the crooks of your elbows, down to your wrists, your fingers. Catches your gaze when he kisses between the peaks and valleys of your knuckles, and the fire that burns beneath his irises sets your insides alight. 

Broad palms move down your sides, perch on your hips. He hefts you up with one hand fastened to your rear, and your arms and legs unconsciously shoot out to encircle him. He chuckles, swinging you ‘round, walking you to the tub. You’re the biggest baby when you’re tired, but he would never complain. He prefers you like this—all supple and pliant, desperate for the feel of his body against yours.

You watch the rose petals he sprinkled in your bathwater cling to your skin once you’re inside. And it works as a soothing balm through your person, the frothy water embracing you like a warm hug at the end of a tedious day. 

You sigh heavily, leaning back against the tub’s wall. Your eyes slide shut. You’re about to succumb to the pretty girls of slumber when the sound of shifting fabric alarms you. 

Sylus moves to leave, but your hands dart out to ensnare his wrist. He glances at you over his shoulder, a question hanging between his brows. 

“Stay,” you urge with a pout. Throw in watering puppy eyes for dramatic effect, laying the guilt on thick. 

He chuckles something hearty, settling onto the floor beside you. “I figured you could use some alone time. Besides, I’ve got dinner going. Do you want me to burn it? Cajun wasn’t on tonight’s menu, sweetheart.”

You huff. “You set a timer, right? It’ll be fine.” 

Truth is, he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane right now. A constant in a world filled with turmoil. Your security blanket. You never mind him impeding on your time, your space.

“Shall I help you bathe, then?” He doesn’t await your response, already reaching across you for your body wash and loofah. 

He’s tender as he works the soap into a rich lather over your shoulders. Honey-slow, dipping between the valley of your breasts, snickering when you instinctively arch into his touch when the material catches on your nipples. Once he’s satisfied your upper body is thoroughly saturated with suds, he maneuvers himself onto his haunches on the floor.

“Sit up,” Sylus instructs. You sluggishly obey, bowing forward to grant him access to your back. 

Lids shuttered, a content hum eases from your throat as he works out the knots and strain of your back. Smooths the loofah down the ridges of your spine, encircling one shoulder blade before moving onto the other. He’s gifted, trained in the art of your body. Knows just where to touch, to massage to get the cogs in your mind turning and your breaths evening out.

He dips the loofah into the water, and you giggle as it slides between the swell of your ass and the tub’s floor.

“Well, I can’t exactly get you clean when you’re sitting down like this.” 

Your gaze shifts to his. His eyes darken with something familiar, a smirk curving one corner of his lips as he salaciously cocks his head. 

You feel a pull in your tummy, and your lashes flutter, lips parting slightly. Without thinking, you position yourself onto your hands and knees, the water lazily sloshing about and licking your thighs. Curiously, you peer at him from over your shoulder and waggle your ass, playfully signaling for him to finish up.

Resigned, amused, Sylus works the loofah over the globes of your ass. Up and down the backs of your thighs. And it’s purposeful when, with each pass, he grazes your fat labia, peeking through the plush of your thighs. You shudder each time, a pleasant sigh escaping your mouth, and you wiggle to chase the harsh drag of the loofah, if only for him to mistakingly graze your clit with it.

He tsks behind you. “Sweetheart, we agreed this would only be a harmless little bath.”

How harmless could he expect it to be with him looking at you like that? Touching you like that, his palm branding your thigh whilst an errant thumb kneads the muscle there, dangerously close to the outskirts of your cunt?

“I changed my mind,” you relent in a breathy, needy whisper. And you’re rocking your hips this way and that, trying to lure his thumb into the catch of your pussy.

He laughs again, the sound of it murky, and you feel it furling in your chest. “As you wish.”

Your body vibrates with anticipation. You’re not made to wait long, a virile, wide palm stroking your legs apart. Soon after, you feel his thumb stroking down the expanse of your slit, and you jump, a shudder racking through you.

“Easy, darling,” he coos. Voice is thick as bourbon, and his thumb even thicker as he dips just the tip of it into your puckering sex.

He moves maddeningly slow as he collects some of your nectar on his thumb, smoothing it between your folds in search of your clit. He finds it with laser precision, stroking the distended pearl to life with meticulous circles that leave you baring down on nothing and moaning against the grit of your teeth.

A hand fastens around your hip. Massages one of your cheeks, holding you steady whilst he fucks his thumb into you slow and consistent, and the sticky squelch of your cunt soon fills the atmosphere as he works you into a mess of shaking tendons and sighs of “yes, yes, please. More. Fuck.”

Spurred by your words, he alternates between fingering you—trading out his thumb for his index and middle digits—and rubbing your clit. Ducks in to blister your rear with kisses, and you jerk, hypersensitive to every sensation, every sound. He pants softly behind you. Enjoys himself, watching you fall apart around his fingers, his girth pushing against the seam of his pants. He palms himself, kissing closer to your labia, the scent of it bewitching, and he wills himself not to add his tongue into the fray.  

He curls and pistons his fingers inside you, a frothy ring of lubricant collecting around the base of his digits. He eases a palm over the curve of your stomach to massage your tits and pluck your nipples, sweltering breaths fanning across your spine. 

You’re pushed closer to the precipice, towards that slurry edge of bliss. He murmurs words of praise against your skin, and you hump against his fingers like a beast in heat, chasing that sparkling rush. Chasing that crest of pleasure in your stomach, eyes screwed shut. Just a little longer. Just—

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Sylus quietly demands, pressing against that unfathomable knot of pleasure inside you. 

And as if he has some sort of hold on your body, the world falls away from you at his behest. Your orgasm ripples through you, spilling like lava, pooling in your stomach, and dripping to your extremities. Your mouth opens with a gasp. A shaky exhale with his name in it, and you pitch forward, catching yourself on your hands last minute before you nosedive into the water. 

He laughs behind you, roosting one hand on your hip and the other on your stomach to steady you. “Good girl,” he croons, rubbing your pulsing cunt with his fingers. “You look so fucking sexy when cum like that.”

You shiver, clearly overstimulated, and he resigns to help ease you back onto your rear in the bathtub, kissing the sensitive space behind your ear. 

He lures you into a languid kiss with gentle fingers beneath your chin. Licks into your mouth, groaning his approval as you lazily return his affections, loose-limbed and spent.

You prop the back of your head on the tub’s rim, lips still sealed to his, and Sylus rubs up and down your body to encourage you back down from the clouds. You whimper into his mouth when he pinches your nipples, catching his hands to twine your fingers together, the stimulation too much. 

He greedily milks what remains of your voice from your throat before drawing away from your lips with a sticky click to pepper your throat and shoulder with apologetic kisses. 

When your heart beats something steady, and your labored breaths slide into something more even, Sylus peels away. “Dinner’s ready,” he purrs, grin all toothy, smug.

You track his movements to the door through hooded eyes, a satisfied cant to your lips whilst you sink to your chin into the water, mind a delicious slurry and the tension between your shoulders nearly gone.

—

“You’re insatiable,” he breathes, hot and wanton, against your hinged-open mouth. 

You have him notched between your splayed legs on the kitchen counter, and his hands are on an unhurried mission over your thighs whilst you kiss him. Your arms snake about his shoulders, fingers, easing into delicate locks of white, and you slant your mouth possessively over his, sealing your bodies together.

Dinner cools on the stovetop. Stuffed chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus. All a labor of love that you promise to consume after you’ve consumed him, pushing your greedy tongue into his mouth.

His groan vibrates your tongue whilst his thumbs ease over the inner cut of your thighs, and he grazes your outer labia with each pass, sending satisfying jolts of electricity throughout.

The bath renewed you. Cleared the fog from your mind, stoked the fire of your libido. Which is why you ambushed him in the kitchen, seducing him into fucking you when he was just about to set the table. 

Your body rolls like waves licking the shore against his, your nipples rubbing against the harsh fabric of his shirt. 

He’d peeled the straps of your negligee down your shoulders, bunching the neckline beneath your tits. 

“Fuck me,” you exhale, grappling with the catch of his belt. Hands perched on your waist, he peers into your eyes, brows knit with the strain of reining in his desire.

“Can I at least get you to the bed first,” he breathes, gritting his teeth when your lips brand his Adam’s apple.

“Nope.” You finally pull his belt free, and you busy yourself with unbuttoning his pants.

He chuckles darkly. Shakily, propping his hands on the countertop on either side of your thighs, letting you do terribly distracting things to his neck with your mouth. He sucks in a breath when you palm him, hand hot and searing against the cotton of his briefs. Cranes his head back, and you exhale all triumphantly against his throat, hand dipping beneath the elastic waistband to fish him from the confines of his underwear.

“Fuck,” he curses through swollen lips. Cheeks dust with a pretty shade of crimson, and he twitches each time your hand smooths over the leaking tip of his cock. Each time you stroke down the shaft, back up to thumb his slit, smearing his pre-cum over him.

“Fuck me,” you order once more, licking behind his ear. Draw his lobe into your mouth to nibble it, and he groans something bitten off, a pliant mess of muscle and sinew beneath the artful glide of your hand.

With no further goading, Sylus encases your hips with his hands. Drags you impossibly closer toward the edge of the counter, replacing your hand on his cock with his. 

He strokes himself so well. Your mouth waters from the sight, your sticky, bare pussy clenching with anticipation. The predatory gleam in his eyes reads as one of restrained desire. Like a beast subdued behind a cage, giving you an out, a chance to escape.

You merely swallow, enraptured by the sight of him so desperate for you. So eager when, moments ago, he was resistant to your temptation. He fists himself once more, his weighted hand swallowing up the bulk of his cock. He taps his heavy dick against your folds, the sensation curving your spine and siphoning an unbidden whimper from your lips.

He undulates his hips, rubbing himself between your folds, saturating his turgid flesh with your essence. And oh, it feels so good when his tip bumps the pucker of your pussy. He teases you with the prospect of fucking you proper, drawing himself out to repeat the motion from before, each time digging a little deeper.

When he finally eases home, nestled deep in the hot channel of your sex, your rigid walls ravenously sucking him in, you share a breath out. His chest heaves when he looks at you. The need that lurks behind his gaze makes your cunt flutter, and his responding groan is strained with the effort of keeping still inside you.

You lean back on your hands. Give him the go-ahead with a flicker of your lashes, and then he’s moving inside you. Fucking into you like a well-oiled machine, and he lifts the hem of his shirt to watch your union. 

You watch the steady ripple of his abs, wanting to chase the sweat that beads between them with your tongue. For now, you’ll settle for enjoying the feel of him. Throw your head back, your heels hooking into the backs of his thighs, keeping him in motion. Refusing to let him go. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, do you know what you do to me?” 

A sweltering hand curls around your neck, squeezing with enough pressure to bring your pulse thrumming to your ears. His thumb finds the hang of your bottom lip, drawing your mouth open to ease it inside. Your tongue darts out to sample the taste of it. Wraps around the worn pad, and you close your lips around it to suck. 

He fucks into you harder, your eyes rolling back as his balls knock against your ass. Reluctantly draws his finger from the hot suction of your mouth, splaying his fingers down your sternum to where your bodies convulge. 

“You feel so fucking good, kitten,” Sylus breathes. Thumbs your clit, your body convulsing. “So good, squeezing me like that. Taking me like such a big girl. Look at you. So fucking good. Ah, fuck.”

That sparkling feeling pools in your stomach again. You grit your teeth, bowing forward to roost a hand on his shoulder. Your gazes interlock, and he’s so fucking beautiful like this, that carefully constructed composure giving way to something primal. Animalistic, and his hair falls into his face as he grips your hip to the point of bruising, mooring you to the countertop. Keeping you steady for him to ravage you.

After some time of skin slapping and desperate moans saturating the air, he twitches inside you. Hips stutter. Head falls back while his mouth hangs open, and he sighs, so relieved with one final stroke, molten spurts of cum painting your insides a gooey white. Branding down the inner cut of your thighs, puddling on the countertop.

You tug him into your arms, blistering his neck with open-mouthed kisses and the soft rake of your teeth. He shudders, leaning into you, propped on his hands on the counter, face nestled between your breasts.

You share a laugh as you massage his scalp. Relieved. And you’re patient as he softens inside you, stroking over the broad expanse of his back, cooing affectionate words against the crown of his head.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

felix and his gf being at saltburn and felix noticed ollie acting weird towards her and gets upset at him!!!!!!

The eyes, Chico. || Felix Catton x reader

A/n: YAY TY FOR THE REQUEST! PLS SEND THRU MORE

Warnings: fem!reader, Oliver being a creep, swearing, smoking, if there’s anything else lmk!

Wc: 826

Felix Catton Masterlist

Feeling Felix’s thumb rub circles on your back, you flutter your eyes open and are met with his smile. "Mornin', baby," he greets you, and you respond with a lazy smile, relishing the comforting embrace of his body. His chuckle resonates through his chest, a gentle vibration against you. "It's too early, Felix," you murmur softly, wanting to fall back into slumber.

"Breakfast starts soon, aren't you hungry?" Felix questions, a playful tone lacing his words. You shake your head. "Yes, you are. Don't lie. I can hear your stomach," he asserts with a laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile in response. "Fine," you concede.

You and Felix make your way to the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast awaits. You greet everyone good morning, almost forgetting that Oliver is here at Saltburn too.

You don’t understand why Felix invited him over; they barely know each other. Even when you confront your boyfriend about it, he just says that he feels bad for him, that he's going through some things at home.

Honestly, he's sort of a strange guy. You always catch him looking away from you when you look at him, around school, his eyes widen the slightest when he sees you walking down the corridors, and then he focuses his gaze on the ground. One time, he even bumped into a pole because he wasn't looking where he was going.

But today, he seems even more odd. The unease is palpable as you sit down at the table. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting a warm glow on the scene.

As you and Felix engage in light morning banter, you catch Oliver staring at you. His gaze is intense, lingering longer than is comfortable. At first, you dismiss it, thinking maybe he's just lost in thought. However, the oddity of his behavior becomes more apparent as the meal progresses.

Oliver’s eyes follow your every move, and you feel an unsettling awareness of his gaze on you. It’s as if his attention is fixated solely on you. You exchange a glance with Felix, who seems oblivious to Oliver’s strange behavior at first.

You try to focus on your plate, on the conversation with Felix, but the weight of Oliver’s gaze is distracting. It’s not the kind of attention you want or need, especially coming from a guy who's already odd enough.

You try to enjoy breakfast, but the uneasy feeling persists. Oliver’s eyes seem to follow you, and you sense a strange tension in the air. However, as the minutes pass, even Felix begins to sense the unease in the air.

“You alright, Ollie?” Felix's timely interjection is a relief. Oliver shifts his focus from you to Felix and responds with a casual, "Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm good." A smile graces his face as he savors a spoonful of breakfast as your eyes flicker between the two, watching the interaction. You can't help but wonder if Venetia or Farleigh picked up on the awkward tension in the air.

As breakfast concludes, you can’t shake off the lingering discomfort. “Remind me why you brought Oliver to Saltburn again?” You question your boyfriend beside you as you continue your skincare routine.

Felix, sensing the need for discretion, swiftly moves to the door leading to Oliver's room. "Shh, don't be so loud," he cautions in a hushed tone, closing the door behind him with a sense of urgency.

"Darling, I know he's been acting weird—" Felix begins, coming up behind you, but you swiftly cut him off. "Oh, he's been acting more than weird. I could barely focus at breakfast with his eyes on me," you huff, applying sunscreen to your face, preparing for a day out in the sun by the lake. The tension in the air is palpable as you address the unease surrounding Oliver's peculiar behavior.

"I know, I know. He just has a... tendency to stare. He's probably admiring how gorgeous you are. Aren't you used to the stares?" He bends down to kiss your cheek, and you roll your eyes in response.

"He should know it's rude to stare," you say in a sing-song voice as you pack up your skincare products. "Don't mind him," Felix adds, his large hands wrapping around your bare stomach, giving your hips a slight squeeze.

The hot temperature outside and the high UV ray lead you, Venetia, Farleigh, Felix, and Oliver outside to lounge by the lake. As you settle on the blanket, the odd tension with Oliver becomes more pronounced. He positions himself nearby, and you catch him stealing glances at you.

It’s not the casual glances friends share; they're lingering, intense stares that make you uneasy. You exchange puzzled glances with Venetia, both of you trying to make sense of Oliver’s peculiar behavior.

“That Oliver has a staring problem, doesn’t he?” Venetia comments, readjusting her sunglasses that sit on her nose. “You saw the stares this morning right?” You turn your head towards her as she does the same. “I think everyone could sense the awkwardness between you two.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and turning your head back. “He’s so strange. I still can’t wrap my head around why Felix invited him here.” You try to focus on the conversation with Venetia, hoping to ignore Oliver’s odd glances. However, his behavior persists.

As you and Venetia engage in conversation by the lounge chairs, Oliver’s attention seems solely fixed on you. It’s as if he’s not present in the moment, lost in his own thoughts. The picturesque surroundings lose their charm as the atmosphere becomes charged with an unspoken tension.

“Is he looking,” You say lowly to Venetia, who discreetly looks behind you before humming. “Fucks sake,” You groan, turning your head only to find his eyes looking at his hands. Rolling your eyes, you gravitate your gaze to Felix right beside you.

Felix, sensing the unease, stands up to move his chair closer to yours, a protective gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when he places his large hand on your thigh. You appreciate his presence, but the situation with Oliver casts a shadow over what should have been a carefree day by the lake.

The discomfort peaks when you decide to take a break and lie down on the blanket, soaking up the sun’s warmth. Venetia joins you, and you both close your eyes, attempting to find solace in the peaceful surroundings.

However, Oliver’s peculiar behavior doesn’t wane. As you lie there, eyes closed, you sense his eyes on you, a prickling awareness that mars the tranquility of the moment. You open your eyes to find Oliver glancing at you again, a furtive gaze that makes you uneasy.

Venetia, too, notices the strange dynamic and shoots you a concerned look. You spot Farleigh and Felix in deep conversation, Farleigh glancing at Oliver from time to time before giving you a look, silently communicating the shared discomfort.

“Fuck this, I’m going to take a bath,” You mutter annoyed as everyone watches you get up from your towel. Perching your sunglasses on your head, you walk over to Felix. “I’m going to take a bath,” You lean down to kiss him as he hums.

“I’ll come join you in a sec,” He says, his hands toying with the strings on your bikini bottoms. With a brief exchange of nods, you make your way back to Saltburn and to Felix’s bathroom, which connected to Oliver’s room.

The cold water is already calling your name, promising respite from the tension that clings to the air. Closing the door behind you, you take a deep breath, hoping the solitude of the bath will provide the sanctuary you need.

Little do you know that the shadows of unease follow you into the bathroom. As you start to run the water, the events of the morning replay in your mind. The odd glances, the tension at breakfast—all of it weaves into a disconcerting tapestry.

Stripping off your bikini-clad body, you let out a moan of relief when your warm body makes contact with the cold water. Lighting up a cigarette, another sigh of relief escapes you.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix decides to retrieve something from Oliver’s room. As he opens the door, the scene before him freezes him in his tracks. Oliver, standing too close, is peering through the crack of the bathroom door, watching you in the bath.

Felix’s initial surprise gives way to a flash of anger. “What the fuck, Ollie?” he exclaims, his voice cutting through the silence. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the commotion outside. You hear Felix yelling as you quickly get out the tub, wrapping a robe around your naked body before emerging from the bathroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams as Oliver stammers, caught red-handed, unable to form a coherent response. You move beside Felix, rubbing your hand up and down his arm, trying to ease him down.

“You can’t just invade someone’s privacy like that,” Felix continues, his tone sharp. “What were you thinking, watching through the door like some creep?” His eyes were blown out, his face red as Oliver just stood there distressed.

“That’s so fucked up, Oliver.” You say quietly, though your tone and glare were ice cold. Oliver, looking sheepish and guilty, attempts to explain himself. “I-I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

Felix’s frustration deepens, and he points out, “Sorry is going to cut it, mate. What’s been going on with you? The staring, the weird glances—it’s not normal, man. We’re supposed to be friends. She’s my girlfriend, and you’ve been creeping her the fuck out!”

The room is charged with tension as the two friends face off. Felix, normally calm and collected, is visibly shaken by the breach of trust. You stand there, wrapped in a towel, feeling a mixture of concern and disgust for Oliver and an urge to comfort Felix.

Oliver, fumbling for words, finally admits, “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I messed up, and I completely understand if you’re mad.” Felix lets out a dark laugh, throwing his head back as Oliver gulps.

“Mate, we’re more than just mad. What you did is so fucking wrong,” Felix spat as Oliver says nothing but nods his head lightly. "I think it’s best if you leave, Ollie," you tighten the robe around your body as Felix lets out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair as Ollie nods, his gaze on the ground.

“Of course. I’m sorry again,” he apologizes as you give him one final look, grabbing Felix’s arm and pulling him with you back into the bathroom. Felix looks over his shoulder at Oliver, slamming the door shut and locking it.

[incognit0slut]

hii, i love you’re writing and i have a song request idea. the song too sweet by hozier would be so cute it could be angst to smut and it could happen late morning or late at night since the lyrics. idk if it makes sense i just thought it’d be cute 😭. again i love your work sm okay, ty, bye 🫶🏾💖🫶🏾💖🫶🏾

Spencer thinks you’re too sweet for a damaged man like him.

Warnings: (18+) Professor Reid x Student Fem Reader. Age gap (he’s in his 40s or post-prison era, Reader is in her 20s). Angst and smut. 2.8k words A/n: anon I took your request but I changed it a little to how I interpret this song… which means a lot of ANGST💔 I hope you don’t mind

He knew you were here. He always knew. The usual chaotic sprawl of books scattered throughout his apartment seemed to be in order, and there was a comforting scent lingering in the air that unmistakably belonged to you.

Although Spencer could never really put his finger on your scent. Sometimes you exuded a sweet fragrance, like the delicate petals of a flower, while at other times, a crisp, fresh aroma lingered around you, reminiscent of a morning breeze, or perhaps the soft scent of rain. 

But it didn't matter whether you smelled like a garden in full bloom or the crisp air after a rainstorm, the mere proximity to you brought him the peace he was all too familiar with, and that calmness enveloped him as he made his way toward his bedroom.

You looked like an angel. Sweet, calm, serene. His eyes drifted towards your sleeping form, and he couldn't help but wonder how you could sleep so well after the conversation you both shared this morning. The weight of your mutual decision to end things for good hung heavy in the air, yet here you lay, seemingly unaffected.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, each rhythmic pattern of your breathing seemed to draw him closer. One step, then another, until he found himself standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, vulnerable in your sleep. And then, as if pulled by an unseen force, he sank into the space beside you.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, and so did his heart. Spencer knew this wasn't the wisest thing to do. He was supposed to be the responsible one, after all, he was older than you. With age came experience, or so he believed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be the voice of reason.

But as he lay beside you, he couldn't help but question his judgment. Was it truly wisdom that guided him, or was it simply the fear of facing the unknown? Age and maturity seemed like a flimsy construct now, overshadowed by the raw intensity of his emotions. With a heavy sigh, he placed a hand on your waist.

One touch, he told himself, one touch was all he would allow himself.

You felt the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, grounding you in the present moment. Spencer watched intently, well aware he should have pulled back, yet, despite his better judgment, he found himself unable to let go, his grip on you tightening almost instinctively.

His gaze traced your face in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. Despite the early hour, your features seemed to radiate with a warmth that defied the darkness of the dawn. The lines of worry on your brow softened, your lips curved into a gentle smile, and for a fleeting moment, you appeared to embody the very essence of sunshine itself.

It was a peculiar sight, Spencer thought, considering how the world beyond the window remained shrouded in darkness.

"You're home," you muttered as if the word home was a concept you both shared. Perhaps it had once been true, or perhaps it was a dream that had never quite materialized. He felt a pang in his chest, a bittersweet reminder of what once was, or what could have been.

"You're not supposed to be here," he mumbled softly.

"I was going to give you back your keys, but you weren't here," you confessed. "And I wanted to wait for you."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "So you decided to wait on my bed?"

"It seemed like the most comfortable spot."

"You've always liked my bed."

You shook your head. "It's not the bed, per se. It's the feeling of being close to you..." Your gaze softened as you met his eyes. "Even when you're not here."

Time seemed to stand still as he met your gaze, a rush of emotions swirling beneath the surface. "I'm not here most of the time," he said after a pause.

"I know."

"That's not fair to you."

A heavy silence fell into place.

"I know," you replied quietly.

"And the next time we do see each other," he continued, his tone tinged with resignation, "Is when I'm standing in front of class with you sitting between the seats."

"Spencer, I know," you pressed, your voice barely concealing the ache in your heart. "We went through this conversation this morning."

"Then why are you still here?"

You held his gaze, your eyes reflecting countless emotions—sadness, longing, and perhaps a hint of defiance. "Because," you began softly, "I still can't bring myself to leave."

His heart clenched at your words, the weight of them settling heavily upon him. He had expected defiance, anger, perhaps even resentment, but your quiet admission caught him off guard.

"Why?" he asked.

You looked away. "You know why."

He knew the reasons, of course, he knew them all too well. But hearing them spoken aloud, seeing the pain reflected in your eyes, brought the harsh reality of the situation. He reached out, gently grasping your chin and guiding your gaze back to meet his.

"This is for the best," he replied quietly, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. He knew the words sounded hollow, even to his own ears, but he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth—that perhaps, deep down, he was trying to protect himself as much as he was trying to protect you.

"For me or for you?"

He hesitated, the lump in his throat growing heavier with each passing moment.

"For both of us," he admitted softly.

It was the truth, undeniable and painful. He couldn't deny the impact of your relationship if it continued down its current path. Not only was he much older than you, but he was also supposed to be your mentor, your teacher, your professor.

His role was meant to guide you. He was supposed to impart knowledge, not to engage in illicit affairs behind closed doors. He had allowed himself to become too invested in you, to give you more attention than was appropriate, more than was fair to his other students.

But it wasn't just about him anymore—it was about you. He couldn't bear the thought of tainting your pure, sweet soul with the darkness that came with him. He had done things he wasn't proud of, and made choices that he wished he could undo, and now, as he looked at you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of shame.

You deserved better than to be with someone who carried the weight of his past like a heavy burden.

"So this it?" You asked.

All he could do was nod. A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. "Fine. Just..." You paused, taking a shaky breath to steady yourself. "I'll leave as soon as you tell me the truth."

He felt a knot tighten in his chest as he waited for you to continue.

"Tell me you don't love me and I'll leave."

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, the pain evident in his eyes as he struggled to find the right response. He knew that he had to be honest with you, no matter how difficult it might be.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, the words caught in his throat. How could he deny the truth when every fiber of his being longed for you? How could he let you go when you were the one thing he couldn't bear to lose?

"I..." he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the courage to speak the words you so desperately needed to hear. But no matter how hard he tried, the words refused to come.

"Say it," you urged. "Say you don't love me and I'll leave you for good."

Taking a deep breath, he met your gaze and braced himself for the pain his words would inflict on you.

"I don't love you," he whispered, the words feeling like a betrayal even as they left his lips. It was a lie, and he knew it. And yet, he couldn't find the courage to admit his feelings for you.

The air around you seemed to thicken with tension. He had braced himself for the pain his lie would bring, but nothing could prepare him for the look of hurt and disbelief that crossed your face at his words. You were the one who asked for this, yet hearing him admit to it so easily shattered your heart into pieces.

"You're... you're lying."

Spencer felt a pang of guilt shoot through him at the sight of your pain. He knew that he would regret what he was about to do, but he couldn't stand the thought of you walking away without knowing the truth, without knowing how much he truly cared for you.

So he closed the distance between you, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck. And then, without hesitation, he leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his kiss.

But as quickly as it had begun, it came to an end, leaving you breathless and uncertain. You pulled back and searched his eyes for answers. "You're lying," you repeated.

He sighed heavily, his forehead resting against yours. "I-I don't love you."

Your chest tightened again. How could he say that when his touch was so tender, when his gaze held so much depth? Frustration and hurt boiled over as your nails dug into his skin, gripping his wrist firmly as you held his face close to yours.

"Stop lying to me," you pleaded almost desperately. "Stop fucking lying to yourself."

He closed his eyes. He knew that he couldn't keep lying to you, and yet, the words refused to leave his lips, trapped by the fear of what might happen if he dared to speak them aloud.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart as he pulled you closer, not knowing what else to do to ease the pain away.

So he kissed you again.

He kissed you as if he was apologizing, each gentle press of his lips against yours a silent plea for forgiveness. He kissed you as if he needed to convey his feelings that he couldn't express with words, his touch speaking volumes where his voice fell short.

He kissed you as if you were everything to him, as if the taste of you was sweeter than any other, as if he couldn't bear the thought of a life without you in it. He kissed you desperately and unapologetically, it was sweet yet painful, tender yet desperate, as if every moment shared between you was both a blessing and a curse.

You could taste the bitterness of goodbye on his lips, yet you couldn't bring yourself to let go, not when his touch still felt like home. So you pushed your tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of him even as you knew it would only make saying goodbye that much harder.

Your breathing became heavy as you felt his hand glide down from your cheek to your neck. He then pulled away, his lips still tingling from the taste of you as he licked them unconsciously. His gaze followed the movement of his hand as it settled on your breast.

You could feel the tension between you crackling in the air, the desire that pulsed between you almost tangible, as he brushed your nipple over your shirt. A gasp escaped your lips as he continued to tease you, each touch sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

You knew that this wasn't the wisest thing to do. You were both playing with fire and giving in to the temptation could only lead to more heartache. But you couldn't help yourself, not when your body was coming alive with the familiarity of his touch, not when you knew that this might be the last time you could feel him as close.

So when his hand slipped further down, tracing a path over your stomach, past your legs, you let him. The anticipation built within you as his touch hiked up your skirt, your breath catching in your throat. And when the rough pad of his fingers ghosted over the material of your panties, you found yourself instinctively spreading your legs apart, inviting him closer.

As the first electric surge rushes through you, the smallest of breaths escapes your lips, signaling the release of the tension you had been holding in your lungs. Your hands found purchase against his shoulders, nails digging into his t-shirt tightly as you felt him pressing onto your folds.

You both stared at each other, a silent exchange of emotions passing between you. There were so many emotions in his—sadness, frustration, and a burning desire that mirrored your own. And yet, despite the turmoil that raged within him, you found yourself unable to look away, drawn in by the intensity of his gaze.

As his hand worked its magic between your thighs, you felt yourself growing wetter by the minute, desire pooling low in your belly. And then, with a sense of purpose, he pulled his hand away, his fingers deftly finding the band of your panties as he coaxed the thin material down your legs. 

How did he manage to bring himself into this situation again? It was a familiar pattern, one that he had promised himself he would break, and yet, here he was, like a moth to a flame, irresistibly drawn to you.

Or perhaps it was more like you were a precious flower, delicate and beautiful, and he was drawn to you like a bee to nectar, unable to resist the sweet temptation that you offered.

Whatever the reason, he knew that he couldn't stay away from you. With trembling hands, he buried his fingers between your thighs once more, finally touching your bare, slick skin. The slickness of your arousal coated his fingers as he explored every inch of your delicate folds, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

And then, unable to resist any longer, he pressed a single finger inside your entrance, the sensation causing you to gasp in pleasure. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of your tightness enveloping him, before picking up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate with each passing moment.

"Please," you muttered, gulping and concentrating on the feeling of him slowly pumping his single digit in and out of your tightening, dripping walls. 

But what were you begging for? For him not to stop? Or for him not to let you go? Maybe both, and for now, the only thing he could do was give you the pleasure you so desperately craved.

He could feel the tension building within you, the way your body arched and trembled. And as he continued to pleasure you, he made a silent vow to himself—to give you everything he could at this moment, to make you feel alive and wanted, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

So he continued to move his finger inside you, and as he felt you drawing closer to the edge, he knew that he couldn't stop now. His thumb found your clit, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as he applied gentle pressure. Then with a sense of urgency, he plunged another finger deep inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way possible.

Your grip on his shirt tightened, your nails digging into the fabric as you clung to him desperately. "Pl-Please," you begged, heavy eyes searching for his own. "Please don't leave me."

His heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in your voice, the depth of emotion written plainly across your face. He couldn't bear to look at you any further, so he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing tender kisses against your skin as his fingers continued their fast-paced rhythm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry."

His words were barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths, but you heard him clearly, and a loud moan ripped out of you. This was the cruelest form of rejection; to find pleasure in his touch only to be denied the warmth of his affection. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him for playing with your emotions, for making you believe there was something more. But as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your senses, driving you ever closer to the edge of ecstasy, you found yourself unable to resist.

So you surrendered to him completely, because all that mattered was here and now—the ache between your legs, his lips worshiping your body, and the undeniable connection that bound you together, even as the world threatened to tear you apart.

[writingforstraykids]

THIS CHAN?? I WENT FERAL???!????

anyways 🤭 imagine you taking chan and him forcing you to look into the mirror behind the bed as he absolutely destroys your sweet little cunt😼

Ohh believe me, that pic made my thoughts run wild already so thank you!! Your request hasn't left my mind all morning so yeah...this happened real quick😂🖤

Right here with you, always

Pairing: Chan x femReader

Word Count: 1915

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: Hope you like it, love🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

male!version here

The cobblestone streets of Milan seemed to sparkle under the golden hues of the early evening sun as you and Chan made your way through the city. Milan was pulsing with life, its vibrant energy matching the excitement in your heart. Chan had invited you to join him on this glamorous outing, blending the worlds of high fashion and intimate togetherness.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, admiration blooming inside you. He was dressed in a blue shirt that highlighted the warmth of his eyes and complemented his dark hair. Chan suggested dinner at a small, elegant restaurant known for its secluded ambiance and exquisite Italian cuisine. Over plates of creamy risotto and perfectly aged wine, you shared stories and dreams, his laughter blending harmoniously with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere in the background.

As the sky deepened into a velvety blue, Chan took your hand, leading you out into the enchanting night. Milan at night was a different kind of beautiful; the lights of the city reflected in the gentle ripple of the canals, the air filled with the subtle aroma of blooming jasmine. Walking through this cityscape with Chan, you felt as if you were part of a living canvas, every step painting a stroke of memories in your shared story.

Eventually, the night led you to his hotel, a place of refined elegance. Inside, the world quieted down to just the two of you. Chan guided you to the sofa in his suite, a soft, inviting piece that seemed to echo the plush luxury of your surroundings. As you settled into the comfort of the sofa, he pulled you gently into his lap, a smile playing on his lips.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, feeling the strength that lay beneath his soft shirt. “This blue shirt… it’s perfect on you. It makes your eyes look like chocolate; deep and endlessly sweet.”

At first, Chan blushed, a shy smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered away. It wasn't often that he heard such open adoration, even from you, his partner. Yet, the honesty in your voice and the warmth in your eyes encouraged him to accept your compliments. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his own confidence growing with the realization of how much you needed him in this moment.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. His hands were gentle but firm on your back, making every nerve in your body sing with a pleasant tension. The room around you seemed to fade, the sounds of Milan's nightlife a distant echo to the intimacy that unfolded between the two of you. “Love how pretty you look in that dress,” he told you, hands fondling up your thighs and below the skirt. “Love how your body always searches mine,” he confessed, biting back a soft groan as you pressed down against him.

His lips met yours in a fierce kiss, hand shooting up into your hair. You kissed back eagerly, grinding down against him with soft, needy sounds. Chan's grip on your hair tightens, his hips chasing yours with a low groan.

As the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the gentle yet insistent passion between you, the world outside seemed to vanish completely. Chan’s hands moved with a tenderness that contrasted and complemented the growing intensity of the moment. He was skilled, knowing exactly how to make you feel cherished and desired all at once.

Your panties met the floor as Chan lifted his hips, shuffling his pants down enough to free his aching dick. He made quick work of preparing you, stretching you out with his fingers and kissing down your neck hungrily. You sunk down on him soon, moaning out loudly as he stretched your fluttering walls just right.

Chan's hands found your hips, steadying you in his lap as he started thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he whispered needily. “You feel so good, baby girl,” he told you, setting a fast pace.

You matched his rhythm, your movements fueled by the shared desire that connected you. The heat of the moment intensified, your bodies moving in sync as you rode him, each thrust deepening the bond between you. Chan’s eyes were locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making you feel both powerful and utterly vulnerable at the same time.

“Chan, please,” you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with raw emotion. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice a mix of passion and reassurance. His grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts growing more urgent. “I’m right here with you, always, pretty girl.” You hid your face in his shoulder, embarrassed of the weak sounds he pulled from you with each thrust. Chan's hand sunk into your hair, pulling you back up. “I want you to look at yourself,” he said, nodding at the mirror wall right behind him. “Want you to see how pretty you are like this.”

“Channie,” you whined softly but did as he told you. “Fuck,” you whimpered as his pace fastened, making you bounce on him.

His grip on your hips was firm as he guided you up and down, his thrusts growing more insistent with each passing second. The sight of yourself in the mirror, bouncing on his lap, your dress hitched up around your waist, your face flushed with pleasure, was almost too much to bear. The raw intensity of the moment made you feel exposed yet profoundly connected to Chan.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his voice a low, guttural whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Do you see how perfect you are for me? Only for me?"

The combination of his words and the image in the mirror heightened your senses, your body responding to him with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, the rhythm of your movements becoming frantic.

"Yes, Chan," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat. "I'm yours."

Chan's eyes never left your face, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and raw desire. "Good girl," he praised, his hands guiding your movements with a steady, unrelenting pace. "I want you to feel everything, baby girl. I want you to feel how much I need you."

His words pushed you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending climax. "Chan, I'm so close," you moaned, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Chan growled softly, reaching down between your bodies and playing with your clit. The touch sent shivers up your spine, making you arch into him with a loud, whimpery moan. “Such a good girl,” he moaned, thrusting into you harshly, feeling his own climax creeping up on him.

“Please, Chan~,” you almost sobbed, a little overwhelmed by all the pleasure coursing through your body. “Need to - please.”

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with emotion. "Let go, pretty girl. I've got you."

With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your release washing over you in waves of pure ecstasy. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, mingling with Chan's own groans as he followed you over the edge, his body tensing beneath you as he found his release.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless and spent, your bodies trembling from the intensity of the experience. Chan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

"You did so well," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your hair. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment and love. "Thank you, Chan," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

He smiled, his eyes softening with affection. "Always, baby girl. Always."

The world outside the hotel room was a distant memory, the night in Milan a backdrop to the profound connection you shared with Chan. As you lay in his arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always bring you back to each other.

-

Later, after you had both cleaned up and settled into the luxurious bed, the quiet intimacy continued to envelop you. Chan's gentle touches and soft murmurs of affection filled the space between you, making even the simplest moments feel special.

"Do you remember our first trip together?" Chan asked, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness.

You smiled, recalling the memory fondly. "Of course I do. How could I forget? It was magical."

"It was," he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "But this... tonight... it's even better."

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're here together," he replied simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because every moment with you is better than the last."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you leaned in to kiss him softly. "I feel the same way," you whispered against his lips. "Every moment with you is a gift."

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that no matter what challenges or adventures lay ahead, you and Chan would face them together, your love growing stronger with each passing day.

-

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke up to the feeling of Chan’s fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, his touch a comforting presence.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face him. His eyes were warm and filled with love, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Chan leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. “How did you sleep?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Perfectly,” you said, your heart swelling with happiness. “How about you?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted, his smile widening. “Being with you always makes everything better.”

You snuggled closer to him, savoring the peaceful morning. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As the morning progressed, you both took your time getting ready, enjoying the relaxed pace of the day. The streets of Milan called to you, promising new adventures and memories to be made. But no matter what the day held, you knew that the connection you shared with Chan would remain the most beautiful part of your journey together.

-

Walking through the bustling streets of Milan once more, hand in hand with Chan, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and happiness you had found. The city seemed to sparkle with the promise of new experiences, each moment adding to the rich tapestry of your shared life.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the same joy that filled your heart. “Ready for another day of adventures?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely,” you replied, smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, you both stepped forward, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that together, you could conquer the world.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[sofiascripts]

love in recovery ✧.*

pro hero bakugou x reader

when pro hero dynamite, along with some other heros, step in to assist midoriya during the intense ua finals, he finds himself accidentally injured and in need of treatment from the new recovery girl. assuming she follows the same procedure as her predecessor, he expects a kiss on the cheek to heal his wounds.

✎ wc: 3656

ׂ╰┈➤ warnings: cursing... and not proofread

when you had started at u.a. high, it had been filled with excitement and anticipation. every day had felt like a new adventure, with the hallways buzzing with energy from the promising students. you were new to the area, having moved into musutafu for the job, leaving all your friends and family back home. it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, and you had midoriya to thank for that. he started around the same time as you, and since he grew up in the area and graduated from u.a., he was more than willing to show you around.

you were no idiot; you knew about him way before his introduction. after all, the name izuku midoriya was synonymous with heroism, the man who had followed in all might's footsteps and become a beacon of hope for so many. but despite his accomplishments and fame, midoriya was incredibly humble. he didn’t mention even once that he was pretty much the sole reason you were here, working this job, and pursuing your own dreams. he could’ve easily let his reputation speak for itself, but instead, he chose to connect with you as an equal, as if he were just another colleague finding his place in the world.

you couldn't help but admire him for that. his kindness and humility made it easy to settle in and find your footing. he introduced you to a few of his friends and they welcomed you with open arms, he was always there with a smile or a word of encouragement, and before long, you found yourself feeling more at home than you ever expected.

this was your second year as the new nurse at u.a. high. your quirk, aura of restoration, allows you to emit a healing aura within a certain radius, gradually mending wounds, restoring energy, and alleviating pain for anyone within its range. it's a powerful quirk, capable of providing much-needed relief during intense training sessions and after battles. you can also focus your aura on one individual, which is especially helpful when the injury is serious because all of the healing is concentrated on them.

however, your quirk comes with significant drawbacks. the more people you heal at once, the more energy it drains from you, leaving you physically and mentally exhausted. on particularly challenging days, even maintaining the aura for a few minutes can be taxing. additionally, your quirk is highly sensitive to your mental state; if you're stressed or anxious, the effectiveness of the healing diminishes. the aura might flicker or fail entirely, putting those relying on your help at risk.

despite these challenges, you take great pride in your work. you often volunteer at hospitals to strengthen the capacity at which you can heal. you’ve become a familiar face to the students and staff, offering them not just physical healing but also a sense of comfort and reassurance. many students appreciate your presence, often stopping by not just for medical help but also for a few calming words or a bit of advice—or perhaps just as an excuse to get out of class. you appreciate it nonetheless!

today the atmosphere in ua was even more exciting than usual, it was lovely, you knew your quirk would be extra strong today. you continued down the hallways waving hello to your colleagues and stopping by the faculty room.

“good morning, mr. aizawa,” you greeted as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, the rich aroma began to fill the room.

aizawa glanced up from his papers, his usual tired expression softening just slightly. “morning,” he mumbled, taking a sip from his own mug.

“what’s the deal today? the energy in the building feels different—much stronger and very lively,” you remarked, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of your coffee.

aizawa raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting toward the window where sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow across the room. “some of the pro heroes are coming in today to help with the students' finals. it’s got them all worked up. they’re eager to impress,” he explained, his tone as calm as ever, but with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“ah, that would explain it,” you said, nodding in understanding, “its going to be quite a show with all of them here.”

aizawa smirked slightly, a rare expression for him. “and some of the teachers are also looking forward to seeing their old students,” he added, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“oh? so we might see some of your former students too, then?” you teased, trying to imagine aizawa in a more sentimental light.

he shrugged, but there was a trace of fondness in his voice when he replied, “maybe. it’s always interesting to see how they’ve gro–

before mr. aizawa could finish, a cheerful voice cut through the conversation causing both your heads to turn toward the doorway “good morning, mr. aizawa! y/n!”

“goodmorning izuku! we were just talking about you,” you turned to aizawa and watched as he let out a loud and obnoxious sigh causing midoriya to raise a brow, but neither of you missed the way the corner of his lips twitched up, as if he was forcing himself not to smile.

midoriya continued toward the bagel arrangement, selecting one and slicing it open with practiced ease. “oh? all good things, i hope?” he asked with a knowing glint in his eye as he spread cream cheese on his bagel.

you took another sip of your coffee, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “what else could there be?” you replied, setting the mug down on the counter.

midoriya’s grin widened as he prepared his bagel, clearly pleased by the compliment. “guess i’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

you finished your coffee and placed the mug in the sink, quickly washing it before putting it away in the cabinet. “i heard your friends are coming in today. are you excited?” you asked, turning back to him as you dried your hands.

“of course!” midoriya beamed, crumbs falling from his bagel onto the plate as he spoke with his mouth partially full. “it’s not often we can all coordinate our schedules like this. it’s always great to catch up and see how everyone’s been progressing. they’ve been training hard as heroes, so i’m really looking forward to seeing how they’ve grown.”

you leaned against the counter, your smile softening as you watched him enjoy his breakfast. “i just hope they don’t rough up my students too much,” you said, a hint of concern in your voice. “i want everyone to stay safe and make the most of today’s opportunities.”

midoriya chuckled softly, his eyes filled with reassurance. “don’t worry. they’re professionals. they’ll push the students, but they know how to keep things balanced and constructive.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

“DIE! DIE! DIE!” you swore you could feel the observation room shake every time that angry blonde yelled, even if he didn’t set off any explosions. 

you were stationed in a temporary office nearby the testing site. there were three battles at a time and you had nine screens, giving you three different angles for each fight.

you were in the middle of healing three students who had all failed their practical exam, the sadness in their voices was evident making you a little bit sad which caused your quirk to work a bit slower than you liked. the room was filled with the low hum of concern and the occasional sharp war cry from bakugou, whose frustration was clear even through the thick walls of the medical bay. his voice, filled with rage, echoed through the facility.

one of the students from tsukuyomis group, still visibly shaken, tried to explain the chaotic battle to you as you worked. “that was so scary,” they said, their voice trembling. “one minute i was trying to——and then dark shadow, and the next, i was—oh my gosh—out of nowhere, everything just went boom!”

you tried to listen attentively, nodding in fake understanding while focusing on your healing. you were pacing around the room, allowing yourself to spread the calm and healing aura to each of the three students around you. all had very minor injuries, which is what most of the students had when they came in. you were really nervous for pro hero explosion god something murder the dynamites students though. “GET OVER HERE YOU BRAT!” you tensed up for a minute and sighed, grateful that you had already gone through your training and never had to experience a mentor like that.

as bakugou’s furious shouts reverberated through the medical bay, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. his anger was intimidating, almost overwhelming, but beneath that fiery exterior was something undeniably impressive. it wasn’t just his raw power or the way he commanded attention—it was his unyielding determination, his refusal to accept anything less than excellence from himself and those around him. he pushed his group of students hard, maybe too hard, but it was clear that he did it because he believed in their potential. he saw something in them that they might not even see in themselves, and he was determined to drag it out, kicking and screaming if necessary.

“try to focus on your breathing,” you gently advised one of the students, she was one of the students that failed. you placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder, your aura continuing to work its calming magic. “you did well, remember, it’s all part of the process. everyone grows at their own pace.”

the student nodded, their breath evening out as they relaxed under your guidance. you could see the tension slowly melting away from their posture, and you were glad to see it. it was moments like this—when you could help bring someone back from the brink of fear and uncertainty—that made your job worth it.

“let’s get you patched up,” you said softly, moving to the next student, who offered you a grateful, if somewhat shaky, smile. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

you had just finished up with the last round of students, sighing in relief as you began to tidy up your small office. the day's paperwork had demanded most of your attention, so you were completely absorbed in clearing your desk when a sudden, loud thump made you jump. heart racing, you spun toward the source of the noise, fear gripping you as you realized you hadn't even heard anyone enter.

"got hit." the voice that broke the silence was gruff and low, tinged with irritation. you turned fully to see him—pro hero great god dynamite murder explosion, something like that—sitting on one of your beds, his usually fierce gaze narrowed slightly as he pointed to a small cut at the top of his forehead. your eyes widened, and your mouth hung slightly agape. bakugou was the last person you'd expect to see wounded by a simple training exercise.

but you quickly gathered yourself, professionalism taking over. "oh? pro hero dynamite got bested by a couple of kids?" you teased lightly, trying to mask your concern with a touch of humor.

his scowl deepened, though there was a flicker of something like amusement in his eyes. "first off, it’s pro hero great explosion murder god dynamite." he sank into the chair across from you with a grunt. "second, they made me go easy on those brats. 'course they got a hit in." he made a face, clearly mimicking someone else. "'told me i couldn’t just fail them all, it would ruin their self-esteem.'"

you bit back a smile as you began to assess him more thoroughly. the cut on his forehead was minor, but your trained eyes quickly scanned for any other injuries. as you reached for his wrists, you noticed two quirk-suppressing bands clamped around them. one of those could practically nullify a person’s quirk—two were overkill, even for someone as powerful as bakugou. your gaze drifted lower, and he caught you staring at his ankles.

"they slapped these on too," he grumbled, pointing at the heavy weights secured there. "said it was to 'even the playing field.' whatever that means."

you hummed thoughtfully, gently inspecting the quirk-suppressing bands. "they really didn't want you going all out, huh?" you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

he huffed, crossing his arms. "if i hadn’t been wearing all this crap, they wouldn’t have landed a damn finger on me."

he then pointed at the small cut on his forehead again, a slight tilt of his head making it clear he was expecting something. you blinked at him, confused for a moment, before the realization dawned on you. "you want me to... kiss it?"

"what, you think i’m here for a band-aid? just get it over with already.” 

you stared at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile and admit he was joking, but his serious expression made it clear he wasn't. and then it dawned on you, he thought you were like recovery girl. he thought that your quirk required a kiss to heal. 

despite the absurdity of the situation, you found yourself hesitating. he was in a foul mood, and it was probably best not to argue, so you let out a small sigh.

"right... sure," you muttered you. you leaned in closer to him, slowly activating your quirk before your lips lightly brushed against the small cut on his forehead, leaving a faint warmth behind. you pulled back quickly, your cheeks slightly flushed as you avoided his gaze,

“all set!” you say softly, you move over to your desk to once again busy yourself with your paperwork. he stared at you for a moment but slowly got up and walked to one of the mirrors in the room and stared at the spot where the cut once was, deciding that your work was good, he began to leave but paused when he heard you chuckle softly.

"what’s so funny?" he asked, his tone a mix of irritation and curiosity.

"oh, nothing," you replied, "just picturing you going easy on a bunch of kids. it's hard to imagine."

bakugou grunted in response, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward just slightly—a rare almost-smile.

"don't get used to it," he warned, "next time, those brats won't know what hit 'em."

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched him head toward the door. "try not to get hit again, dynamite," you called after him, half-teasing, half-serious.

he glanced back at you, smirking. "don’t hold your breath."

and with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in your now slightly less cluttered office, shaking your head in amusement.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

you didn’t expect to see bakugou for a while—actually, you didn’t expect to see him ever again after healing him on the first day of finals. but to your surprise, he kept coming back to your office after every fight. each time, he had nothing more than minor scuffs and bruises, barely anything that needed attention.

he also always conveniently liked to show up after all the other students were gone. you couldnt complain though, it allowed you to focus on the students and it made it easier for you to maintain the little white lie that you were just like recovery girl. though you couldn’t quite figure out why he kept coming back, especially when his injuries were barely worth mentioning—a few scrapes, a bruise here and there, nothing serious. 

each visit left you more puzzled, wondering what exactly was going through his mind. was he really that concerned with every little scratch, did he have some sort of problem? 

eventually, curiosity got the better of you. after yet another visit where his injuries were almost laughable, you couldn’t hold back any longer. you leaned in slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "so, bakugou, are you here for the healing, or do you just enjoy my company?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "because these tiny bruises hardly seem worth the trip." you gave him a quick peck, still activating your quirk.

he brushed off your question with his usual gruff attitude. “told you, it’s about staying in top shape. can’t have anything slowing me down, not even a damn scratch,” he snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “gotta be at my best if i’m gonna be number one.” but as tough as he tried to sound, the slight redness creeping up his neck betrayed him. his eyes flicked away, avoiding your gaze like he was hiding something. despite his words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his frequent visits than just wanting to stay in peak condition. 

but you didn’t push. instead you gave him a small smile before moving back to your desk.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

it was the last day of the students' finals and also your last day at ua before winter break. just like he had been doing for the past two weeks, bakugou was back in your office, sitting on one of the infirmary beds with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, waiting for you to finish up and give him a ‘healing’ kiss.

you were helping midoriya with something before bakugou arrive, and when he walked in, you hald expected him to demand your attention as he usually did, but he simply took a seat and waited. you glanced at him, surprised by his uncharacteristic patience, but decided to finish up with midoriya first.

bakugou sat there, silently fuming as he watched you and midoriya chatting away. every now and then, a soft laugh would escape your lips, or you'd toss in a teasing comment that made midoriya blush slightly. each time, bakugou's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists as he tried to keep himself from blowing up right then and there. he was certain midoriya was dragging things out on purpose.

“thanks again,” midoriya said, glancing at the paperwork you'd helped him with. “not sure why they make these sites so difficult.”

“sure thing, zuku," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing. "but i gotta say, you're pretty hopeless when it comes to this tech stuff, huh?"

the nickname made bakugou twitch in his seat, his patience wearing thin. he couldn’t stand seeing you and deku acting all buddy-buddy, especially not when he was practically bleeding out of a deep wound in the middle of your office. it was about the size of a paper cut.

midoriya, ever observant, noticed the bakugou's odd behavior. a knowing smirk spread across his face as he decided to push his old friend’s buttons just a bit more. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you visit recovery girl this much back in our school days, kachann,” he remarked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

bakugou’s glare sharpened, and he turned his head toward midoriya, practically daring him to continue. “what?” you asked, catching the tail end of their exchange, curiosity piqued.

midoriya's smirk widened, his voice lowering even further. “oh, nothing. just noticing how often you’re in here these days, bakugou. you know, back in the day, you couldn’t stand being patched up, always rushing out before recovery girl could even finish. funny how things change.”

bakugou’s patience snapped. he shot to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. “scram, nerd,” he barked, his voice low and threatening. “didn’t want old lady lips on me back then, and i sure as hell don’t want you flappin’ yours now.”

midoriya chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he stepped back. “alright, alright. i’m going.” he turned to you, giving you a warm smile. “thanks again. see you after the break.” with that, he left the room, leaving you alone with a still fuming bakugou.

you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you finally turned your full attention to him. “you’re really going to blow a gasket one of these days, bakugou,” you teased, walking over to where he was standing.

“shut up and just get on with it,” he grumbled, though the red creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

you couldn’t resist one last tease before giving him what he’d come for. “you’ve really gotta tell me, are you here for the treatment, or is it my company you're after?” you asked, a playful glint in your eye.

“just do your damn job,” he muttered, but you caught the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he sat back down.

you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to the small bruise on his arm as your quirk activated. bakugou watched you closely, his irritation fading as the warmth of your quirk spread through him. despite his gruff exterior, he always seemed a little calmer after these visits, like the tension he carried with him all day finally started to ease up.

as you pulled back, you noticed his gaze lingering on you, a question unspoken in his eyes. but before you could ask, he stood up abruptly, heading for the door without another word.

“bakugou,” you called out, making him stop mid-step. he turned to face you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. you gave him a playful smile, trying to keep the mood light. “be careful out there, wont be around to patch all those little scapes and bruises.”

he raised an eyebrow, his usual scowl softening slightly. “so?”

you shrugged, a teasing grin on your lips. “sooo don’t want those little injuries to add up and start slowing you down, especially with your fight for the number one spot and all.”

he huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no promises,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

a/n: thank you guys so much for all the love on striking a chord like omg i lit cant believe it Agafhdsjhfjnwjen i love you all so so very much and appreciate all of the likes and reblogs <333 there will be a chapter very very soon and i hope you all enjoyed this little thang as a token of my appreciation, lmk if you want a part 2!!!

(*♡´‿` 人´‿` ♡*)ﾟ

part two: love in recovery: the unmanliest of pairs!

[rsepetals]

babies.

more of baby!daddy eren as requested by anon ♡︎ + nsfw becuz he can’t keep his hands off of you. minors dni, please, i will send toji to get you.

Pitiful. That's exactly how you felt. Pitiful for letting the man you vowed to never let touch you again have had you in a headlock while he fucked you. Hazy, that's what your memory is as your eyes flutter open.

Trickles of light flood in, and it only takes a second for you to realize you're in his bed. The room smells like him—woodsy and slightly smoky, a scent that clings to your skin. You groan, throwing your head back, the ache in your neck a reminder of last night's intensity. It feels like you're doing the walk of shame as you saunter out in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and familiar against your skin, carrying his scent with you.

You round the corner to see the girls and then him. He's leaning casually against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, his eyes locking onto yours with that same glint that got you into this mess. The girls are giggling, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can feel his gaze following you, making every step feel heavier.

"Mommy!" The two four-year-olds exclaim at the same time upon noticing your presence. A smile breaks across your lips as they hug your legs, their small arms warm and comforting. "Good morning, my loves. What're you guys doing?" you question, pressing kisses against their messy bed hair, the scent of sleep and innocence filling your senses. "Daddy is making heart pancakes, look, Mommy!" Zoe pulls at your hand, her excitement palpable.

Chloe follows closely on your heels, her giggles bubbling up like a sweet melody. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of pancakes. Eren flipping heart-shaped pancakes with a concentration that makes your heart ache. The scene is a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you, a reminder of the complicated web of love and regret that binds you all together. You watch as he carefully places the pancakes onto a plate, the golden-brown hearts a testament to his effort to create a perfect morning. The girls' laughter rings out, and for a moment, the chaos in your mind is silenced by the simple beauty of this family moment.

Your ex-husband looks up, the corner of his mouth upturned. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you can feel the girls tugging at the hem of your shirt. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is set. “Eat up, so you can be big and strong like daddy.” setting the plates in front of the girls. They immediately dig in, and you take the moment of reprieve to gather yourself.

His hands are warm when they rest against the small of your back, and the way his breath fans across your ear has you biting your lip to hold in a moan. It doesn't go unnoticed. His touch lingers, his fingers tracing small, deliberate circles that send shivers down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the aroma of pancakes and syrup. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving the connection that was once so natural between you.

His voice, low and husky, whispers, "I still remember how you like your pancakes, extra syrup, just a hint of butter." The words are simple, but the underlying emotion is unmistakable, a reminder of the love that still simmers beneath the surface. He won’t lie, the way his shirt falls off your frame excites him a bit too much. And the way he walks around all slutty with just a pair of sweatpants hanging off his hips, pretty hair tucked behind his ears excites you too much.

"Eat Mommy.” he whispers, his voice deep and husky. You glare at him. The man is sinful, and it's hard to resist when his thumb draws lazy circles against your hip bone. "Fine," you manage, trying to sound firm. For someone who can't stand him, you two sure do always end up in the craziest predicaments. It seems like every time he comes into contact with you, he leaves a mark. Whether it be bruises along your thighs or emotional turmoil, you're left reeling from his effect.

"Good," he praises, pulling away. You turn around to see his smirk as he sits on the counter. The girls are completely engrossed in their pancakes, their mouths moving a mile a minute about the things they want to do today. You can't help but stare at the man you married, the man you were going to grow old with.

But life isn't always as you plan, and now you're stuck in an endless cycle of what ifs.

"What do you want, ✰?”

The way your name rolls off his tongue sends a rush of arousal to your core. You clear your throat, looking away as you try to collect yourself. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the pressure of his scrutiny. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin. It's like being under a microscope, and you know exactly how he wants you.

"I want to take a shower." You pick at the food, appetite diminished.

His eyebrow cocks, and he crosses his arms.

“That’s all?”

You nod, watching as the girls gulped down the rest of their food. Ignoring his eyes, you stand up to carry the dishes to the sink.

The girls run off to play, leaving the two of you alone.

The tension is thick, and the silence is deafening.

You're about to head off when he wraps his fingers around your wrist.

"You're not going anywhere, what I tell you about leaving so fast and shit? What do you want?”

His hand is warm against your skin, the touch burning. His eyes are dark, and you swallow before taking a step back. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your knees buckle.

"I said what I wanted."

He laughs, the sound mocking. He takes a step towards you, his presence overwhelming. Your body betrays you, and you can feel the arousal pooling between your thighs. “That’s all?” His words make you whimper, and your mind goes fuzzy. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his skin, the heat of his breath. Your resolve is weakening, and you know he can see it.

"I..."

"Use your words, princess. Tell me," he urges, his hand trailing up your arm. His touch is electric, and you can feel yourself giving in.

"You."

It's a quiet admission, but he hears it. A grin spreads across his lips, and he pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours. His kiss is hungry, and his hands are rough as they roam your body.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, baby?"

"W-we can't the girls-"

"Are playing." He finishes, fingers creeping into the waistband of your underwear.

"Let me take care of you love."

And how can you say no when he's looking at you like that, with those eyes, with that voice, with his lips.

"Ohmyyyy—shittt." Eren's thrust are brutal as he fucks you against the glass shower wall. Water rains down on your bodies, his hand gripping the back of your neck pressing your face against the barrier.

The other holds onto your hips, pulling you back against his cock. The steam fogs up the glass, the sound of skin slapping fills the air. Your legs are shaking, head spinning. His name is the only thing that leaves your lips. You can't think straight, can't form a coherent thought. The only thing you can focus on is his cock stretching your walls almost painfully, his grip bruising, his voice deep and low as he praises you.

"That's it mama, doing so good." he encourages, hips rolling slowly into your gummy walls. Then once again, he's got you in that fucking headlock, picking up his pace. All you can do is babble incoherently, the head of his dick mean as it kisses your cervix.

"You like that, don't you?" he taunts, his thrusts harsh and unforgiving. "Like when I fuck you like this, like when I use you like the dirty little slut you are. He’s fucking you dumb, all you can manage is out a drawled out mhm. “Yeah, that's it, baby.” And god, he's right. You do like it. You like it when he treats you like a ragdoll, when he uses you for his pleasure. You like it when he talks to you like that, when he calls you all those vile names. After all, that is how you ended up carrying his kids.

"E-eren," you sob, your hands splaying against the glass. His grip tightens, hips continually rocking into your sippy pussy, the head of his dick massaging you in a way that has you seeing stars behind your lids.

"Fuck, eren, please," you beg, tears welling up in your eyes. "I-I’m gonna cum!”

"It’s alright Mommy, I got you. Let me feel you." his words push you over the edge, and your walls clench around his shaft. “Oh my god!" he groans, your walls fluttering against him milking is own release. He doesn’t bother pulling out, pumping his load deep inside your cunt, his seed painting your walls white. And just like that, you were sucked back in with the Eren Yeager.

𝑅𝒮𝐸𝒫𝐸𝒯𝒜𝐿𝒮 all rights reserved. comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated ♡︎

[hynzsn]

★ MARKED ★

☆ choi minho x male reader 18+ MDNI

-> alpha!minho x omega!reader

꩜ .ᐟ smut

contents: omegaverse, dominant!minho x submissive!reader, possesive!minho, scenting, biting, kissing, tongue kissing, swearing, cock touching, growling, neck nuzzling

wc: 0.8k

summary: minho has to leave for work, but he’s stopped when he feels the sudden urge to mark you, his husband.

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"hey, baby. I gotta run," minho murmured, taking his briefcase and bending in to give you a quick but heartfelt kiss on the cheek.

“meeting with a new client at 9am. can’t be late.”

you, still sipping your morning tea, glanced up at minho, your eyes still groggy.

“mm-hmm, okay. have a good day, love.”

minho turned to leave, but something about the way, your hair looked messy and your eyes were still puffy from sleep caught his attention. an intense yearning and possessiveness suddenly overcame him.

he put down his briefcase and turned to fix his gaze on your neck.

“hold on, baby,” minho said, his voice low and husky.

“i need a minute.”

you raised an eyebrow, but minho was already closing in.

minho gently grasped your chin, tilting your head to the side and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

your eyes fluttered closed as minho took a deep breath, his alpha senses were on high alert.

“fuck… you smell so good, baby,” minho whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

your hands instinctively went to minho’s hips, pulling him closer.

“you’re gonna be late,” you whispered back, your voice laced with arousment.

“i don’t care,” minho growled, nuzzling deeper into your neck.

he inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of sleep, tea, and honey.

his alpha instincts went into overdrive, and he could feel his cock stirring in his slacks.

you let out a soft moan as minho’s tongue traced the curve of your neck.

“minho… you’re being so extra…”

“i’m just showing my baby some love,” minho replied, his voice muffled against your skin.

he sucked gently on the sensitive skin, making your eyes roll back.

“minho… stop… you’re going to make me-”

your words trailed off as minho’s fingers slipped under the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

“stop?” he repeated, his voice nothing but a soft purr.

“i’m not stopping, baby,” minho whispered.

minho’s desire for you was all-consuming, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his beloved mate.

“just one bite, baby, come on.”

“i need to mark you again. make sure you’re carrying my scent all day. make sure everyone knows you’re taken.”

minho’s hands dove deeper, his fingers brushing against your hardened cock.

“see, you’re so responsive. baby. i’ll be quick. i promise.”

the air in the kitchen was quickly filling with the combined aroma of your bond.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

with a growl of possessiveness, minho backed you against the kitchen’s island, his gaze never leaving yours.

your submissive nature had caused you to melt under minho’s touch, your body relaxing in surrender. you tilted your head to the side, completely baring you neck for minho.

it was an invitation, a silent plea for minho to carry on.

minho growled in approval, leaning back in and letting his fangs graze the sensitive skin of your neck.

“mine.”

minho smiled, his fangs elongating as his eyes glowed with a primal need.

he bit down on your neck, his fangs breaking the skin as he injected his venom into your bloodstream.

you cried out, your body arching off the kitchen island, as you felt minho’s burning mark into your skin.

minho inhaled deeply. your scent was changing, increasing, and becoming even sweeter. he was reveling in the knowledge that he was the cause.

with another growl of satisfaction, he pulled back, knowing that his marking was complete.

you whimpered at the loss of contact, your neck throbbing where minho had bitten you.

minho’s eyes softened as he leaned in for a gentle kiss.

you melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around minho’s neck as you deepened the kiss.

minho slipped his tongue inside your mouth, letting your tongues dance together.

he had taken his hands out of your pajamas, and they were now roaming around your body.

the kiss went on until minho pulled back.

you didn't have it in you to break the kiss; in fact, if it went on for hours, you wouldn't have complained.

“fuck, i gotta go,” minho said, adjusting his suit jacket that had become slightly disheveled during your little marking session.

“but tonight, we’re finishing this, baby. i promise.”

you smiled, still a bit dazed as you tried to gain your composure, finally coming off the kitchen’s island.

“you better… you know, this counts as edging.”

minho grabbed his briefcase, but not before giving you another quick peck on the lips.

“have i ever let you down before, baby?”

he smirked, finally heading towards the door, leaving you with his scent and his mark.

"i love you, baby,” he called out.

"love you too.”

[doliacuddles]

HIS FAVORITE.

𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❝𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈���𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅, 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.❞

It’s always there, lurking in the darkest corners of the hotel, watching you with that wide, unsettling smile. Though it seems to be everywhere, it never manifests in an aggressive or intrusive way. Yet, the intensity of its red eyes follows you wherever you go, as if its gaze intertwines with the light and darkness of the place, ever vigilant, always present.

If someone from the hotel dares to cross a line or make you uncomfortable, everything shifts instantly. The air grows heavier, and suddenly that figure appears, almost like a shadow moving between the flickering lamplight and the dark corners of the hallways. Without uttering a word, its mere presence is enough to make any intruder rethink their actions and leave, making it clear that you are not alone.

In moments when the hotel’s energy feels overwhelming, when it seems like the walls are closing in on you, things begin to change without warning. An armchair, previously absent, appears right where your tired legs need a rest. Or a steaming cup of tea, which you hadn’t requested, materializes out of nowhere in your hands, its calming aroma enveloping you. It’s as if the hotel itself responds to your needs, but deep down, you know who’s behind it. Although you never see it directly, it’s always Alastor who, with his subtle touch, orchestrates those small moments of relief. It’s his eccentric way of watching over you, making you feel safe without ever exposing himself too much, staying within his own game of shadows and light.

When Alastor is near, the atmosphere of the hotel seems to change immediately. The lights, which usually flicker and blink chaotically under his influence, behave differently around you. Instead of the unsettling tremors, they soften, adjusting to you, dimming to create an enveloping calm. Even the strange and disturbing transmissions from the old radios when he’s near, those echoes from forgotten times, seem to mold around you. Instead of chilling buzzes and distorted voices, the ghostly waves whisper gentle, almost nostalgic melodies, as if offering you comfort. It’s as if he silently dedicates his own personal recital to you, filling every corner of the place with hidden music that only you can appreciate. Through these subtle acts, Alastor communicates without saying a word, filling the spaces with his intangible presence and unmistakable energy.

Yet, what strikes you the most are the little details. Alastor, in his reserved and enigmatic manner, never touches or intrudes on your space overtly. But in his own way, he always ensures your well-being. Doors open effortlessly just before you reach them, as if an invisible hand is guiding you with perfect delicacy. If something dangerous or inconvenient is in your path, it vanishes like magic just before you stumble over it. And when you sense a threat or imminent danger, before you can even react, the situation dissolves like mist at dawn, leaving only Alastor’s shadow at the edge of your vision, watching you from the shadows, always alert, always vigilant. It’s as if he is your ethereal guardian, a presence that never fully reveals itself but is always there, protecting you with his invisible influence.

Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, when you think you’re completely alone, small gifts appear, almost imperceptible but full of meaning. A dark rose, with a deep and mysterious color, rests carefully on your nightstand, placed with almost obsessive precision. Or perhaps you find a book you mentioned only in passing during a forgotten conversation, waiting on your bed, as if he remembers every word you say. These details are not conventional gestures of affection; they are much deeper. Alastor doesn’t need to speak romantic words or empty compliments, because his actions say it all. Each small act is a masterpiece of precision, an expression of his meticulousness and attention, as if everything is designed just for you. In this elaborate game that he seems to control from the shadows, you are the central piece, the protagonist of a show that only he can direct.

Each of his movements is calculated to keep you close, in his orbit, but always just far enough that you can’t quite unravel who he really is. There’s a constant mystery in what he feels for you, an uncertainty that envelops you: Is it genuine affection? An obsession or fascination with you? Or something darker, something lying deep within him? Those questions float in the air, but in the end, they don’t matter much. What really seems to matter is that with you, Alastor, the demon who instills fear in others, changes. With you, his volatile and dangerous essence seems to yield, even if just a little, softening in your presence, as if you are the only one who can calm the storm burning inside him. And, though you don’t fully understand it, you feel that this change is for you, and only for you.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

[sunni-stuff]

No longer a fan.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Jaw hurting blowjob, creampie, not proofread + made late at night.

★- This is the end!

The sight of his cock in front of you made your eyes grow wide, your tongue peaking out between your lips as Simon runs a hand through your hair. “Think I like that look on your face doll,” he breathes, fisting his length in his opposite hand. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he gives it a few strokes, pre-cum beading at the tip. You’re lost for words, hands reaching up to rest on his muscular thighs. You see his cock twitch in reaction, leaning forward to take him into your mouth before his fingers stop you in your tracks.

His laugh is cruel in your ears. “Eager little thing aren’t you?” He waves his cock in front of your face, barely brushing it against your lips as he holds you steady. He’s teasing you, enjoying the way your mouth opens for him, practically begging for him to fuck it. Even when you squirm in place and your thighs press together he refuses to indulge in the temptation that is your sinful mouth, wanting to see just how desperate you can get for him before he takes what he wants from you.

“Hungry for it, ain’t you? So innocent-looking but the whole time you’re just a cock-hungry whore.” You whine again, pressing your nails into the meat of his thighs. The sting of it makes his eyes roll. “Come on, use your words,” he gasps, almost feeding you his thick cock—so close, and yet so far. “Use your words darling, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

He's a real bastard, the way he makes you beg for him. But you can't resist, even as your mouth hesitates to open. Your shame is long gone, especially since he already had his fingers inside you. "Please, Simon," you plead, your cheek pressing against his thigh as you look up at him with those coy eyes of yours. You want his cock now, there's no denying it.

Simon hums in approval as his hand gently guides your head. His cock stands tall in front of you, emitting a powerful musky scent that makes your senses reel. The aroma awakens a deep desire within you for more, more of him and what he can offer. You eagerly take his cock into your mouth, your lips latching onto the head and your tongue eagerly exploring every inch. He tastes so good, a delicious mixture of saltiness and sweat that ignites your taste buds and fills your throat as you try to take more of him, ignoring the slight burn at the back of your throat.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re a natural,” he grunts, being careful enough not to push your head too far. “Just needed someone to stuff that pretty mouth, is that it?” You’re already a sloppy mess, spit running down your chin, eyes watering. Simon's intense gaze pierces through you, filled with twisted desire as he watches you go down on him. You seem so small trapped between his legs, sucking him off with such vigor that he worries your jaw might lock up. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you away for a moment to help catch your breath but all he hears is a whimper from your lips. "Don't worry, doll. I'm not going anywhere."

You gaze up at him with a dazed expression, your eyes filled with desire as his thumb gently traces your bottom lip, catching the trail of saliva that dripped down your chin. Just his touch alone ignites your entire body like a Christmas tree. This man is dangerous; he may just be the death of you. It's a fact now, one you can't deny. "Why did you stop me?" Your voice comes out slightly hoarse from your activities below.

“You're too eager, love. Don't worry, I plan on being here all night.” He grins widely, enjoying your stunned reaction. Before you can defend yourself, he pushes himself back into your mouth, silencing any protests. You comply, closing your eyes and following his lead, savoring every moment with the man above you. Your head moves slowly, accommodating for his size as it stretches your throat beyond its limits. The sounds of his moans only urge you on further; you want to hear more. More of his gasps and groans that leave his chapped lips. Lost in the moment, you suddenly realize that his entire length is now down your throat. Your face buried in his pubic hair, and the manly smell of him has you dripping onto the floor beneath you. Simon was completely captivated. Although he had been with many people before, men and women, none of them could compare to the woman currently on her knees in front of him. His moans escaped him in a primal, guttural cry that only grew louder with each suckle of your lips. Your mouth felt like heaven to him, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure. He couldn't help but grip your head tightly as he began to thrust into your mouth, the sound of your gags only fueling his desire further. "Yes… Come on, sweetheart. I'm almost there," he groaned out, feeling his legs tremble.

The force of his thrusts and the taste of his precum are overwhelming. Your mind goes numb as he takes full control, completely dominating your tiny mouth. Your jaw aches and tears well up in the corners of your eyes as his cock hits the back of your throat again. Suddenly, without warning, his release is imminent. "Shit… fucking perfect," Simon's voice is deep with desire but not as thick as the rush of liquid that fills your mouth. His cum has a sweet taste with a hint of salt, almost overpowering at first, but you manage to swallow it all down.

With a smirk, Simon slowly removes his cock from your swollen lips, taking in the sight of your flushed and aroused face. He reaches down and helps you to stand up, his eyes fixed on you. Your mind is still reeling from what just happened as you look at him. "I should go clean up," you murmur, starting to pull away. But he pulls you back in, his lips crashing onto yours. Simon doesn't care if you taste him on your lips or if you find it gross. Teeth clash and tongues collide as the heat builds. By the end, you're breathless and unable to speak. He asks, "Where's your bedroom?"

In a blur, you find yourself back in your bedroom, lying on your back with Simon hovering over you. He carefully inserts two fingers inside you, marveling at how easily you accommodate him. It won't be long before he replaces his fingers with something much larger. It has only been a few minutes since he entered your room, and he wastes no time getting to business. Your soft whimpers turn into loud moans that mix with his low murmurs as he maintains his rhythm, keenly observing your responses and adjusting accordingly. His heart pounds in his chest, and his own arousal throbs against his thigh. "Nice room you have here," he teases, taking a moment to look around at the colorful décor which is clearly your personal touch.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you let out a whiny gasp. "You can't be serious right now," you say, disbelief evident in your tone. But he just smirks at you, clearly not taking your words seriously.

Simon lets out a low chuckle as he leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, effectively silencing you. "Hmm, deadly," he murmurs against your mouth.

Control. Control was the only thing that held him back as he expertly pushed you closer and closer to that second orgasm, that edge, loving the uncontrollable whimpers that slipped out of you lips.

As he caresses a tender area inside of you, your lips part involuntarily and his name escapes in a pure moan. He continues with steady, rhythmic motions, and the squelching sound of his fingers only adds to the erotic atmosphere. The wet slurping sounds fill your ears and drown out any other noise.

Before you could even process what was happening, a sudden tightness consumed your stomach and sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your core tenses around his fingers as another orgasm crashes over you, leaving your vision hazy and your skin tingling. You took a moment to catch your breath, throwing an arm over your face as the cool sheets of your blanket helped to soothe your heated body.

Simon pulled his sticky fingers out and surveyed the mess he had made. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself as he tentatively licked them clean, savoring the delectable sweetness of you. Slowly undressing himself, he kept his eyes locked on you the entire time, taking in the rise and fall of your chest and the glistening sweat on your skin. His hands shook slightly as he removed his shirt over his head.

The sound of rustling fabric catches your attention, and you look up to see Simon standing there completely naked. He was a work of art, his body strong and defined with the marks of hard work and struggles. Every inch of him was pure muscle, from his chiseled chest down to his toned abdomen. Scars decorated his chest, each one telling a story you couldn't even begin to imagine. His masculinity was on full display, and it was enough to make any woman feel weak in the knees. You were no exception.

With wide eyes and an open mouth, you could only manage a hoarse whisper - "Sweet Jesus." The sound of your voice drew a hearty laugh from him, his deep chuckle filling the air around you.

"I can't guarantee it won't hurt, love," he said with a sly smile, pleased with the sight of his erect manhood looming over you. The power and dominance emanating from him was palpable, and your heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. His words filled you with a sense of anticipation, unsure of what was to come. But the raw desire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

A sharp, searing pain surged through your body, causing your back to arch. Your mouth dropped open, a mixture of pleasure and agony escaping in a silent cry. Your eyes flew open, tears welling up at the corners. The sensation of his erection entering you was almost too much to handle. Another intense orgasm washed over you, tightening your muscles around him and drawing out everything he had to offer. You were wetter than ever, coating his shaft with your juices as you came.

Simon let out a low growl as your third orgasm rocked through you, your walls tightening around him. The sight of his member disappearing into your core, the sensation of your body quivering beneath him, the sound of your moans—all of it drove him wild. "Another one?" he asked, amazed by how sensitive you were compared to others.

Simon groaned deeply as he felt your walls constrict, his throbbing member fully engulfed in the wet heat of your pussy. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, causing him to clench his jaw in an effort to hold back his release. He watched you with wide eyes, a mixture of pain and ecstasy etched on your face as he stretched you to your limits. It was a sight that would be forever ingrained in his memory - your body trembling beneath him as he filled you completely, filling every inch of you with his hard, pulsing cock.

You became too accustomed to his manhood. Far too accustomed. Probably, because he had already stretched you out so much that your body instinctively knew to relax and welcome him. Your soft cries evolve into moans as your head falls back onto the stack of pillows on your bed. Simon is a master at pleasuring your body, knowing precisely when to thrust and when to pull back, and always praising you whenever he hits that sweet spot that makes you cling to his arm for support. He knows every curve and crevice of your form better than you do, and it's both exhilarating and frightening.

He pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices, before slamming back in. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy taking his cock, the sight of you writhing beneath him, the feel of your tight warmth—it was all too much to bear. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn't walk, until you were a whimpering, shaking mess under him until you were begging for him. Simon loved seeing the way your eyes looked up at him, all pliant and already fucked out. You were better than any toy, any woman or man, he’s ever recorded with. Maybe, just maybe, if that pretty little brain of yours was working after this he’d ask to see you again.

Simon could feel another orgasm building within you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he slammed into you. He was on the brink of his own release, his balls tightening as he neared his climax. You're such a good girl, taking me so eagerly. Can you handle a little more?" He whispered, his voice heavy with lust.

As his words reach your ears, your cloudy eyes clear up. The feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside leaves you disoriented but able to hear him clearly. His praise makes you involuntarily grasp around him. You can sense the effort it takes for him to hold back, though he doesn't say anything about it. It takes a moment for you to realize why - there's no condom.

Breathless gasps escape your lips as euphoria pulses through your body. You looked up at him, meeting his confused gaze before speaking again. "I-I'm on the pill," you managed to say, the words mingling with your moans. His brows furrowed in confusion, but you reassured him with a seductive glint in your eye. "It's okay…to cum inside."

With one last powerful thrust, he finds his confirmation and releases himself deep inside of you. As his cock throbs, he continues to fill you with his hot cum. Your body tightens and releases around him, drawing out your own orgasm as you collapse against him. Gazing up at him through hazy eyes, you notice for the first time that he seems completely spent. Simon slows down, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure. Yet, he remains buried deep inside you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy reminding him of what just took place. He then picks up pace again, renewed energy coursing through his body as he continues.

"Simon?" Your body resists, but he persists. There's that tingling sensation again. Without speaking, he leans in and softly kisses your lips, silencing you. He must have noticed how starved you were for touch, as each time he kisses you, you go quiet and still. "Just a little longer, love." he pleads for once. This isn't an order, but a genuine request for more. And how could you deny him, when he clearly needs it?

An entire hour had passed, and the two of you were still going at it with no signs of stopping. Simon instructed you to switch positions, and now you lay on your side, one leg draped over his shoulder as he continued to thrust into you unrelentingly. Every muscle in your body pulsed as he penetrated deeper each time, reaching a place that no other man had ever reached before.

The sound of the old bed frame creaking filled the air as your bodies rhythmically moved up and down. His movements were powerful, and every time he pushed inside you, your leg would automatically lift up to deepen the impact. Your arousal was evident as your slick walls eagerly welcomed him, trembling uncontrollably when his tip hit that delicate spot inside. You couldn't contain your moans any longer; Simon made you feel too good and he knew it. He gave you everything you needed and more, completely abandoning caution in the heat of the moment.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Your moaning abruptly stops when a loud noise startles you, and the knocking on the wall next to you snaps you out of your lustful haze. Your neighbor has finally had enough of hearing you say the same guy's name over and over again.

"Shut up! Some of us have things to do!"

You feel a rush of embarrassment and shock as you feel your face flush, expecting Simon to stop. But he doesn't; in fact, He somehow pushes himself even harder than before

Simon couldn't care less about your neighbor; you were all he needed. You had given him an hour of pure satisfaction, not just underneath him but on top of him as well. Your neighbor could go to hell because Simon was already in heaven with you. You bit down on your pillow, trying to contain any moans that threatened to escape your lips. It was a struggle to stay quiet when Simon moved his hips so sensually against yours. Your vision began to blur as your walls eagerly pulled his manhood back inside, each thrust accompanied by his praises.

"Simon, gotta quiet…" You whispered to him and trying your best to keep quiet. You were completely spent, stretched to the limit by his skilled cock. No other man would ever be able to fill you so fully or even fit after experiencing Simon's prowess.

"Who says?" Simon's voice was deep, teasing, and seductive as he watched you while thrusting and grinding against you. He was impressed that you could still speak coherently while being pleasured by him like never before. He didn't care who heard you; anyone listening would know exactly who he was - the one giving you the best fuck of your life. This only fueled him to adjust his grip on you, lifting you higher against him so he could penetrate deeper and touch every nerve in your body with each thrust.

That's all it took, your mind was completely consumed by him, unable to do anything but moan endlessly from the passionate experience. You exploded around him, covering his cock in a frothy white mess as your mixed juices flowed out of you. Your hips were connected by thick tethers of cum, evidence of just how full and satisfied you were after being thoroughly fucked by Simon.

Simon pulled out slowly, admiring the trails of cum connecting the two of you. He wanted more, but seeing the tired look in your eyes weakened him. Another loud knock on the wall broke through the moment, causing him to roll his eyes.

Looking back down at you, he noticed that you had fallen asleep. It seemed like he may have gone a little too far. Letting out an affectionate sigh, he gently patted your thigh before getting up and moving around your room.

He went into your bathroom to grab a washcloth and wet it before returning to carefully clean you up. The warm cloth stirred you awake and you murmured in response. "Mmm…?" Simon stated simply, "Just cleaning you up, pet." He made sure to leave no trace of the mess you both had made on your body.

What a man he is. You watch his every move until he pulls away, but then reach out to stop him, pulling him into bed with you. "Stay."

Simon raises an eyebrow and for the first time tonight, he's about to protest until you suddenly kiss him, silencing any words he had planned to say. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Together, you lay next to each other in bed, still tingling from the sex. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist and without saying a word, he pulls you close, letting your head rest against his warm chest as you listen to his heartbeat. Together, you sit in silence for a while until finally, the question that has been on your mind since he you met him slips out. "So, are you GD?"

Simon's eyes widen in shock before he quickly tries to play it cool by trailing his fingers teasingly down your spine. "Why? Are you a fan?

He causes you to shiver as you hum in response, rolling your eyes playfully. This guy, he's full of jokes, isn't he? "I don't know... I think I'm more than a fan at this point."

♡! I tried to make this one really long because It's been literally TWO MONTHS. I'm so sorry. I had planned to come back in April after school died down but I ended up getting nerve damage in my dominant hand and was left unable to type. I hope this makes up for it :c!!

˚ ✦ . Taglist (People who commented): @forgotten-lego-piece @theirkenfiles @gluttonybiscuits @urbimom @blackhawkfanatic @mimidonottouch @madamemelancholysstuff

[heesvnqie]

Whispers Of Jealousy

Title- Whispers Of Jealousy 🦋✨️

pairing: fem!reader x heeseung

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: When Heeseung got jealous as you were talking with another guy during your date.

genre: smut

warnings: >> speeding, smut,cussing, biting/marking, fingering, begging, choking, slight hair pulling, size kink, dom!heeseung x sub!reader, unprotected sex (a big NO-NO), orgasm denial, edging, slight overstimulation, creampie, manhandling, petnames.

In the bustling heart of Seoul, where bright neon lights illuminated the streets and whispers of romance danced on the air, there was a cozy café that served the smoothest coffee one could find. It was here that Heeseung and you had made it a tradition to meet every Friday after your respective classes.

Heeseung was your lovely boyfriend. He was unlike anyone you had ever met. With his warm smile and infectious laughter, he had a way of making even your dullest days feel extraordinary. His passion for music was one of the many things that drew you to him. He often sung songs out for you , serenading you with sweet melodies while you sat curled up next to him, feeling serene. Your love blossomed like the flowers in spring, vibrant and colorful against the gray backdrop of the world.

As you walked toward the café, your mind danced with thoughts of him—his dark hair flopping charmingly over his forehead, the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, and the gentle way he always held your hand. You could hardly contain your excitement, your heart racing in anticipation.

As you opened the cafe door, the weather of the cafe welcomed you in. The atmosphere was filled with warmth, the rich aroma of coffee enveloping you like a comforting blanket.

You had always cherished these moments with Heeseung. With his playful banter, he had a way of making your heart race and your cheeks flush. Despite his easygoing demeanor, you could sense that beneath the surface, he harbored a deeper intensity—a fierce protectiveness that he rarely let slip.

Today you walked into the café a little earlier than usual, spotting a familiar figure seated in the corner. It was Joon, a classmate from your literature class. You had always found his mind intriguing, and today he wore a smile that lit up his face. As you approached Joon, you were unaware of Heeseung,who also earlier than usual, was already at the counter ordering coffee. He caught sight of you chatting and laughing with Joon. The playful banter you exchanged ignited a pang of jealousy deep within him.

Heeseung felt the warmth of jealousy creeping up his spine, the playful sparkle in his eye dimming as he watched you lean closer to Joon, both of you engrossed in conversation. It wasn't that he doubted your loyalty; it was just that the sight of you giggling with another boy twisted something inside him.

As you looked around the cafe, you spotted Heeseung. You bid Joon a goodbye as you made your way to your seat. Heeseung's façade of calmness shattered. “Hey, you were gone for a while,” he said, crossing his arms, his voice playful yet tinged with an edge he couldn’t hide.

You noticed the slight change in his tone, a hint of possessiveness lurking beneath the surface. “I was just talking to Joon about the assignment,” you replied, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in his mind. “He was really helpful!”

“Helpful, huh?” Heeseung smirked, his gaze narrowing. “So helpful he kept you occupied this whole time?” His jealousy echoed in the air, feeling almost tangible.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “Are you jealous, Heeseung?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, swirling your coffee in mock innocence.

His expression shifted, and he leaned closer, closing the distance between your faces. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Maybe I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

The atmosphere shifted, tension crackling between you like electricity. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the way his intense gaze held you captive. You leaned in slightly, a playful grin spreading across your face. “What are you going to do about it?”

In a swift movement, Heeseung scooted closer, his arm brushing against yours. “I could show you,” he replied, his voice low and inviting.

Boldly, you challenged him with a playful laugh, “Oh? Show me then.”

As if the world around you faded, Heeseung's fingers entwined with yours, pulling you closer to him. The café's hum faded into the background, and all that mattered was the fire igniting between you two. With one sweeping movement, he captured your lips with his, the kiss both possessive and passionate.

Heat surged through you as you melted into him, your mind swirling with desire. Heeseung's hands found their way to your waist, pressing you firmly against him as the kiss deepened, a dance of tongues and soft moans that echoed in the space between you.

“Let them look,” he murmured against your lips, breaking for a moment to breathe. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Your heart raced at his words, the possessiveness driving you wild with desire. “Then let them see,” you whispered, nipping at his bottom lip playfully.

With that, Heeseung's passion ignited further. He pressed you against the café’s wall, oblivious to the startled looks from other patrons. His kisses grew more fervent, filled with a need to claim you, to show you just how much he cared—how much he really wanted you.

As the world outside spun on, you melted into his embrace, lost in the moment, lost in him. Neither of you cared about the boy in the corner anymore; it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and the sparks of jealousy that had ignited something far deeper.

Finally, when your lips parted and you gasped for air, you looked into his eyes, which were now softening, the jealousy melting away into a mix of affection and desire. “See? I’ve got you,” he said, his signature smirk returning.

Your breathing was shaky as he held your wrist and pulled you out of the cafe.

He opened the door of his car as you sat down. He sat down as he drove off in a dangerous speed. You reached your house in a matter of 10 minutes, when it usually takes 30 minutes or more.

When Heeseung shuts the car off in your garage, he turns the car engine off. He exits the car, and before you could open the car door and step out, he jolts open the car door and lifts you up in bridal style, slamming the car door shut with a kick, He holds you up with one hand ease, and fumbles to open the door with the keys in the other hand.

As soon as you both are in the house, he rushes to the bedroom.

He throws you on the bed. He unbuckles his belts and unzips his pants as he discards it. He was now in his black boxers.

He hovers over your body and he presses his body on yours as a groan leaves his mouth.

He licks your earlobe as he nibbles on it, making your knees go weak and panties damp.

"Heeseung." You breath out his name. He hums while he places wet kisses down your neck.

"Fuck me."

Heeseung pulls you into a intimate kiss as his hands roam your body with a sense of urgency, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches. You respond eagerly, wrapping your hands over his shoulder.

"Oh god. You drive me crazy, you know that? he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

His hands move with confidence knowing exactly how to get you wet. "So wet for me." Heeseung murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck.

Heeseung’s kisses move lower, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your skin. His hands are everywhere, caressing and teasing.

He slips your panties down and slides a hand over your pussy which makes you gasp. You tilt your head back and he makes rounded movements on your clit.

Suddenly he enters two fingers in as you cry out again, feeling lightheaded. He slides those fingers in and out your slick opening.

"Whose are you?", he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. His eyes lock onto yours. Your hands grip the sheets hard, and you struggle to find your voice, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Y-yours" you manage to whisper out.

Heeseung’s smile widens, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He moistens his hand, his fingers gliding over your clit with a newfound slickness, amplifying the sensation. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you moan out loud. His fingers expertly play your body, worshipping wherever he touches.

Heeseung’s fingers maintain their relentless rhythm, each movement pushes toward your climax.

His fingers dive lower, exploring your wetness before returning to your clit, now wet with your cunt and his cock. Heeseung’s eyes glow with desire, as he aligns his cock with your entrance, his tip touching your sensitive clit, making you gasp.

Heeseung chuckles darkly as he slams into you, a broken groan leaving his lips. He begins to fuck into you at an ungodly pace and you cling to him, moans and desperate cries leaving your lips. Heeseung's lips find your neck and bite at the skin there as he continues to snap his hips into yours.

Every thrust hits your sensitive spot that makes you almost black out at the pleasure. You feel so good as you hear him say,"Tell me how much you want this."

"I need you so bad, heeseung. please, don’t stop." You moan out unable to keep quiet.

His eyes darken with desire, and increases his pace, thrusting deeper inside you.

"You’re so tight." He groans, his voice rough. "Wanna fuck you everyday and night."

You can only moan in response, your body meeting his thrusts eagerly, the pleasure overwhelming. Heeseung’s movements become more uneven, his control slipping as he nears his own climax.

"Cummming babydoll?" He says, his forehead still on yours, his breathing ragged.

Within a few thrusts, your orgasm crashes over you in a wave of ecstasy.

He follows you moments later, his own release tearing through him, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. He collapses on top of you, his breath ragged and his body trembling.

"I love when your whispers have a tinge of jealousy beneath them." You manage to say as he chuckles out.

"They are special as they are the whispers of jealousy."

THE END~~

Taglist:-

@slutofpsh , @laurenalpha123 ...

Comment down to be added to my taglist. Hope you liked the fic.

[ppomumgranatum]

truth or dare.

also available on Ao3

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

type: one shot, you POV, house-neutral reader

word count: 6.5k

Rating: M

Warnings: use of profanities, mild sexual content, Intense make out sesh 😳, characters are in their 7th year.

Summary: Truths emerged and friendships were tested as you found yourself confronting two years' worth of suppressed feelings towards Sebastian. Drunk.

It was girls night for you, Imelda, Natty, and Poppy at the Three Broomsticks. The warmth of the crackling fire danced across the cosy interior of the Three Broomsticks as the four of you settled around the table just by it. The mood is relaxed, the air thick with the aroma of butterbeer and laughter. Shirts and ties, usually stiff and proper, now hang loosely as you let yourselves unwind, embracing the comfort of casual company.

Behind the bar, Sirona moved with practised efficiency, her long apron swaying as she poured drinks and served food with a smile. The clinking of glasses and the clatter of plates blend with the lively chatter of the patrons, creating a vibrant symphony of sound that fills the room.

She made her way over to your table not long after Imelda signalled for another round of butterbeer. If anyone was keeping count, it might have been your third glass, and the beverage had everyone feeling increasingly lighter.

The Slytherin quidditch captain suggested that they should play a game of truth or dare, knowing the game would make the night more exciting and perhaps deepen their friendship.

The rules were simple: each of you would take turns spinning a bottle to determine who would be asked the truth or dare. The chosen person would then have to decide between revealing a truth or completing a dare, no matter how daring or embarrassing it might be. If anyone refuses to do so, they must chug their entire glass of butterbeer.

Imelda, always the adventurous one, volunteered to go first. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she spun the bottle and watched eagerly as it came to a stop, pointing straight at Poppy. Without hesitation, she immediately challenged her Hufflepuff friend, “I dare you to dance in the middle of the Tavern.”

Poppy, ever the good sport, rose to the challenge with a laugh, “Natty, I know you’re the Gryffindor, but let me show you bravery.”

With a confident smile, Poppy gracefully made her way to the centre of the bustling tavern. The eyes of the other patrons followed her every move, curious and amused by the unexpected spectacle unfolding before them. She began to dance, her movements fluid and graceful, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd. With each twirl and leap, she seemed to radiate a contagious energy, filling the room with a sense of joy and excitement.

They cheered her friend on from the table, her dare proving to be a testament to Poppy's drunken adventurous spirit and unwavering bravery.

“I can’t believe she’s actually doing it.” you laughed, feeling disbelieved that drunk Poppy is very funny.

“Go Poppy!” Imelda clapped and cheered at her tiny friend who’s twirling in the middle of strangers.

As Poppy completed her final twirl, she accidentally collided with a taller guy, and his arms instinctively encircled her petite waist to steady her, preventing any stumble.

“Oh! Sorry!” As Poppy apologised, she quickly realised the man she had bumped into was none other than Ominis.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Ominis just chuckled good-naturedly, “Nice moves.”

“T-thanks.” She knew that Ominis was simply being courteous because obviously, he couldn’t have seen her doing all those moves.

“Oi! Poppy, no!” Imelda shouted from across the room, prompting the two people to turn their heads to the loud girl calling out for her “It’s girls night. Come back!”

Poppy chuckled, shaking her head at Imelda's exuberant interruption. "Looks like I'm being summoned," she remarked, casting a playful glance at Ominis before walking away from his embrace. Ominis smiled understandingly as Poppy made her way back to our table, her steps light with amusement.

Your gaze followed Ominis as he made his way back to his own table, and you found yourself locking eyes with Sebastian, who obviously came with his best friend. You were having so much fun with your girls you didn’t notice they were here. You didn’t even know that Sebastian was planning to visit the Three Broomsticks as well.

His piercing gaze held yours for a moment, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and you returned his smile. It felt as if your gut was twisted and turned, in the most enchanting way possible because, Merlin, that man is beautiful as hell.

Natty nudged you to get your attention back and smiled kind of teasingly but you didn’t really bother.

The night went on and the game kept on going. The dares became increasingly daring, you found yourselves caught up in the exhilarating energy of the game, revelling in the thrill of pushing each other outside of our comfort zones.

Natty spun the bottle with a flick of her wrist, the anticipation building as it whirled around before coming to a stop and finally it was finally your turn to take up on the challenge.

A playful smirk danced across Natty's lips as she posed the inevitable question, "Truth or dare?"

“Truth.” You said.

Imelda scoffed and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise at your choice, “I thought the girl who fought goblins and dark wizards to save Hogwarts would be more daring.”

Imelda's playful taunt elicited a round of chuckles from the rest of the group, but you remained unfazed, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. You knew that sometimes the most revealing truths could be just as daring as any physical challenge.

“Don’t worry, I have a good question for this one.” Natty assured, "What's the deal with you and Sebastian?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question, but you couldn't help but smile at Natty's boldness. The other girls quickly leaned in eagerly, clearly intrigued by the topic.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling a rush of emotions swirling within you. Sebastian had been a constant presence in your life ever since you started your Hogwarts day, his friendship was a source of comfort and strength through both joyous and challenging times. But there’s all to it– friends.

It was not the first time someone threw that question at you. You understood that the close bond you shared with Sebastian might inadvertently lead others to misconstrue your relationship. It wasn't uncommon for people to mistake deep friendships for something more romantic, especially when the connection was as strong as yours and Sebastian's. While you cherished his companionship more than words could express, what you two have was purely platonic.

At least that’s what you like to convince yourself.

Although you’d be lying if you never wondered what it feels like to run your fingers through his brown hair, or how comfortable it would be to rest your head on his chest, or.. how soft his lips might feel against yours. You couldn't deny the allure of such fantasies, the temptation to explore the unknown and experience the intimacy that might lie beyond the boundaries of friendship. But as quickly as the thought had surfaced, you pushed it aside, unwilling to entertain notions that could potentially complicate your relationship with Sebastian.

So in conclusion, do you like Sebastian? Yes.

Will you admit it, even to yourself? No.

But still, you were determined to cherish the friendship you shared with him for all that it was– a source of comfort, support, and hearty companionship. This wasn’t something you’d be willing to risk losing.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you guys, but there’s nothing going on between us.” you lifted your mug to have a sip of your butterbeer as you replied.

“And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you– you’re clearly lying.”

You chuckled at Natty's persistent teasing, her playful banter a familiar soundtrack to your conversations about Sebastian. Despite your repeated assurances, your friends seemed determined to challenge the authenticity of your claims.

With a good-natured shrug, you replied, "Believe what you want, guys, but I assure you, there's nothing romantic."

“Really?” Imelda chimed in, “You’re saying, all of those late night ‘studies’ you often share, those ‘adventures’– for two years, neither of you ever had any momentary lapse?” She pressed on as she made some air quote gestures with her fingers.

Sure, there were stolen glances, and perhaps touches. Not anything raunchy, but like when Sebastian wordlessly reached out and took your hand in his during your walk home from Hogsmeade on a chilly night to keep you comfortable.

Or other moments when Sebastian would act sweet and protective towards you, but you figure it’s all a natural thing. Like how he would come between you and the oncoming attack, shielding you from harm with his own body during your battles with dark wizards. It was merely a fleeting instance of a friend's deep-seated desire to ensure the safety of their companion, just like how you took the Cruciatus curse for him in the scriptorium.

But then again, nothing ever goes beyond any of that. No confessions nor pursuits of something romantic were ever explicitly made. Those moments always dissolved into other lingering echoes of unspoken words.

“Hey, Natty asked the question and I answered.” you stayed persistent with your statement “There is truly nothing.”

“Don’t you wish there was something, though?” Poppy innocently remarked.

Well, isn’t Poppy Sweeting just fucking delightful when she’s drunk, asking all the right fucking questions.

You hesitated, eyes shifted around your friends who were staring at you, anticipating the answer. You couldn't shake the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. They knew you well enough to sense what you were possibly feeling, but as friends who are supposed to be annoying to each other, they just want to hear it coming out of your mouth. The confession– the admittance of your long profound feeling towards the Slytherin boy whose longest relationship was with detention.

Taking a deep breath, you met their gaze with a forced smile, “No, Poppy. Sebastian and I have always been close, but–” You replied as you were trying to choose your next words carefully. "I know you guys want this to be something so bad but I value our friendship too much to risk anything.”

It was a half-truth, a carefully crafted response designed to conceal the true depth of your feelings. The other three shot you a look of disappointment because yet again another lie came out of your mouth.

"Anyway, why is it always about me and Sebastian?" Your frustration bubbled to the surface as you interjected, unable to bear the spotlight focused solely on your relationship with Sebastian. "What about Poppy and Ominis? Aren't they just as obvious as whatever you think is going on with me?”

With a determined edge to your voice, you redirected the conversation, shining a light on the dynamics between Poppy and Ominis. After all, they too shared a close bond that was evident to anyone paying attention. Poppy's cheeks flushed slightly as the attention turned to her.

“Hey, don’t try to change the subject, alright?” she was refusing to have their own relationship coming under the same scrutiny.

There was a momentary silence as Imelda and Natty exchanged glances, like a sudden moment of realisation dawning upon them that they also don’t know much about what’s going on with Poppy.

“So..” Natty carefully started, “Have you guys kissed yet?”

“Stop it.” Poppy insisted.

Imelda chimed in, her tone light but her question holding a curious edge. "You know what I always ponder about?" she mused, her eyes flicking between her friends. "If he's blind, do you reckon he'd still know where.. everything is?" Her hand swept in a casual arc, encompassing Poppy's figure in a playful gesture.

“Imelda Reyes!” Poppy’s eyes widened in disbelief at her friend's vulgar question. You and Natty could only let out a satisfied laugh at the remark. Imelda shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she revelled in the reaction she had elicited. It was moments like these that reminded you all of the genuine bond you shared, forged through laughter, support, and the occasional inappropriate joke.

The banter continued unabated, with Imelda persistently needling the annoyed Poppy, her playful jabs met with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement. Meanwhile, Natty, ever the peacemaker, interjected with lighthearted comments and gentle nudges to steer the conversation away from the edge of tension.

As you watched the amusing interactions among your friends, you realised that your glass was running empty. So you took a final chug at the remaining butterbeer and excused yourself from the lively conversation. You made your way to the bar, eager to replenish your beverage.

At the bar, you signalled Sirona for another round, patiently waiting as she bustled about, attending to the needs of other patrons. Leaning casually against the polished wood, you watched as she deftly mixed drinks and served customers.

In the midst of your wait, a man sidled up beside you. You took a glance at him and realised it was a Ravenclaw student, Andrew Larson. A charming grin played on his lips and you returned his smile. He raised his hand to catch Sirona's attention, signalling his order with a casual wave. With a quick nod and a warm smile, she acknowledged him before returning to her tasks. As Andrew turned back to you, his gaze lingering a moment longer.

“Hi." he greeted, "Haven't had the pleasure of seeing you around here lately.”

You returned his greeting with a warm smile. “Well, it’s our final year, with the N.E.W.T coming up–” She sighed, “You’re a Ravenclaw, you know the rest.” As a resident of the house that embraces learning, she figured he would be able to relate the most.

Andrew's charming grin widened at your response, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Well, I'm glad you’re here now." he said, his voice smooth and easygoing. "This place is always more enjoyable with good company."

Did he just.. flirt with you?

The hottie of Ravenclaw– the tall, broad shoulder, blonde, Andrew Larson was flirting with you? It was flattering, surely, but your heart wasn’t exactly there.

“Can I get you–” As he was about to offer you a drink, Sirona came with your fully filled mug of butterbeer. Andrew halted his sentence, a bit embarrassed, but made quite the quick comeback “something else from the bar? Snack, maybe? Or more drinks?”

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as you noticed Andrew's flustered reaction to the unexpected arrival of your butterbeer. It was clear that he had been planning to offer to buy you a drink, only to be thwarted by Sirona's timely arrival.

"Actually, I think I'm all set for now," you replied with a grateful smile, gesturing to the mug of butterbeer in front of you. "But thank you for the offer."

“Are you sure?” He persisted.

“Yes, Andrew.” You gave him your warmest and sincere smile.

Andrew nodded understandingly, a faint blush still lingering on his cheeks as he recovered quickly from the momentary embarrassment. "Well, if you change your mind–”

“I don’t think she will, mate.” Before Andrew could finish his sentence, Sebastian's voice cut through the air, his presence suddenly dominating the scene. He leaned casually against the bar, his arm resting just behind your back. It almost felt like he was about to embrace you, his proximity drawing you in.

With Sebastian's taller frame towering over you, it felt like your face was almost nestled somewhere around the crook of his neck. Amidst the chatter of the tavern and the scent of butterbeer, you couldn't help but catch a whiff of his cologne—a captivating blend of fresh, woody, and spicy notes that seemed to envelop you in its seductive aura.

“Excuse me?” The sweet and soft look on Andrew’s face was replaced by a subtle hint of defensiveness.

“She doesn’t want anything from you, so.. run along, Larson.”

Caught between the two men, you felt a surge of unease wash over you, unsure of how to diffuse the tension that hung thick in the air. Andrew didn’t even bother to argue with Sebastian, he just excused himself and the two of you were left alone.

Your hand instinctively reached out to smack Sebastian's chest, the action fueled by a mixture of frustration and confusion. "What the fuck was that?" you demanded, your voice low but laced with an undercurrent of anger.

Sebastian flinched slightly at the unexpected gesture, his expression shifting from defensiveness to contrition. "I was just trying to protect you from that undoubtedly sleazy guy who's trying to worm his way into your clothes. You're welcome."

"What?" you exclaimed, caught off guard by Sebastian's blunt statement.

"It's Andrew Larson," Sebastian clarified.

Your face twisted into a puzzled expression as Sebastian stated the obvious, and you replied sarcastically, "Oh, pardon me, I thought it was Ominis."

Sebastian rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You know how he is."

Sure, whispers were circulating about Andrew, portraying him as a womaniser whose primary goal was to seduce as many girls as he could. But you weren't some naive ingénue who could easily be swayed by sweet words and charm. Despite feeling flattered by Andrew's attention earlier, you were offended by the implication from Sebastian, of all people, that you were incapable of protecting yourself. After all the battles you've faced and triumphed over, you knew you were more than capable of handling any advances or situations that came your way.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in response, a mixture of annoyance and amusement bubbling within you. It was typical of Sebastian to jump to conclusions and assume the worst about others, especially when it came to your interactions with guys.

"Yeah, I know," you replied, your tone tinged with sarcasm. "Because Andrew is clearly the biggest threat to my virtue in this entire tavern."

“Merlin, did your butterbeer contain five percent alcohol and ninety-five percent sarcasm?” Sebastian let out an exasperated sigh as his frustration was evident in the way he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm just looking out for you, okay?" he muttered, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

You softened slightly at his words, "I’m sorry," you said while offering him a small smile of reassurance. "But, maybe I wanted to be swayed and flirted with by some cute guy tonight.” Those last statements came out a bit soft but Sebastian could still hear it.

Sebastian chuckled softly at your admission, his eyes softening with amusement as he took in your slightly flushed cheeks and the playful glint in your eyes. "Wow, you're really drunk, aren't you?" he teased gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You grinned sheepishly in response, nodding slightly. "A little bit, yeah," you admitted, feeling a surge of warmth spreading through you at his lighthearted response.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you caught Sebastian's intense gaze locked onto yours. There was something magnetic about the way his eyes bore into yours, drawing you in with an almost hypnotic allure.

His appearance only added to the intensity of the moment. His hair was tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly handsome, his shirt untucked and his tie slightly loosened, giving him a casual yet undeniably appealing air. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing the veins in his arms, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of attraction deep in your chest.

Merlin's sake, he looked so hot.

For a moment, you found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his gaze, captivated by the raw energy that seemed to radiate from him. It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

"So, you girls having fun?" Sebastian asked with a casual tonel as he attempted to steer the conversation back to lighter topics.

You nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "Uh, yeah, we're just playing truth or dare," you replied, gesturing towards the table where your friends were gathered.

Sebastian's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh, is that why Poppy randomly started dancing then?" he asked, a hint of amusement colouring his voice.

“Yeah, something like that," You chuckled. “Anyway I think I should go back before Imelda starts screaming at me.”

Sebastian nodded in understanding, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, probably a good idea," he agreed. "I'll see you around?"

You returned his smile with a nod, feeling a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over you. "Definitely." you replied with genuine affection.

It sounded like an assurance– like a promise that you will always be around.

As you rejoined the lively group at the table, the warmth of Sebastian's presence lingered in the back of your mind. Immediately, you were greeted by a chorus of playful cheers and teasing remarks from your friends. Imelda, in particular, couldn't resist the opportunity to poke fun at your brief absence, teasing and winking suggestively in Sebastian’s direction.

You knew this would just add more fuel to the fire of assumptions your friends are already burning. Your cheeks flushed at the teasing, but you couldn't help but laugh along with them. Throughout the night, amidst the laughter and banter, you couldn't help but steal glances at Sebastian, who was seated across the room. His presence seemed to draw you in like a magnet, and no matter how hard you tried to focus on the conversation at hand, your gaze would inevitably wander back to him.

It’s getting late, and your group is getting aggressively more drunk. Everyone was so out of place, Imelda, with her usual flair for the dramatic, had climbed onto a nearby chair, belting out a tune that she had seemingly composed on the spot. Her voice echoed through the tavern, a mix of off-key notes and drunken enthusiasm that drew both cheers and laughter from the patrons.

Natty, meanwhile, had succumbed to the effects of the alcohol, her head resting on the table as she dozed off into a peaceful slumber. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your friend, her normally lively demeanour replaced by the serene expression of someone lost in dreams.

And Poppy– oh dear, sweet, Poppy, was sitting on Ominis’ lap with her tongue down his throat. you caught Sebastian's eye, and you couldn't help but give him a sympathetic look. But to your surprise, he simply shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. It seemed that even he couldn't resist feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the sight of his best friend finding some unexpected romance amidst the chaos of the night.

With a chuckle, you shook your head in amusement, realising that despite the drunken antics and the questionable decisions, nights like these were what memories were made of.

Despite your best efforts to keep up, you found yourself feeling increasingly out of sync with the chaotic energy of the group. The alcohol seemed to weigh heavily on your senses, dulling your reactions and leaving you feeling disconnected from the revelry around you.

You noticed Sirona, the bartender, casting concerned glances in your direction. Her furrowed brow and subtle gestures of worry did not go unnoticed amidst the chaos of the tavern.

Finally, she approached your table, her expression a mix of concern and gentle determination. "I hate to interrupt the fun, but perhaps it's time for you all to call it a night." she said softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine care.

With a sigh of resignation, you understood that it was up to you to take charge and ensure your friends made it home safely. Despite Poppy's protests, you gently coaxed her away from Ominis' embrace, linking arms with her as you led the group out of the tavern.

As you walked, Poppy violently let go of your arm and ran to stroll by Ominis’ side, their laughter and whispered conversations filling the night air. Imelda and Natty stumbled along behind them, their steps unsteady but their spirits high as they chatted and laughed amongst themselves.

Bringing up the rear, you found yourself walking alongside Sebastian, the two of you trailing behind the rest of the group. You were stumbling a little bit so you reached out instinctively to steady yourself, grasping onto Sebastian's arm for support. Your fingers wrapped around his muscled and strong biceps, finding purchase in the solidity of his frame.

"Whoa, easy there," he chuckled, his voice warm and amused as he shifted slightly to support your weight. "Looks like someone's had a bit too much to drink."

You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing, the sound echoing through the quiet streets of Hogsmeade. "Guilty as charged." you admitted, leaning into his solid presence as you regained your balance.

You couldn't help but blush at the unexpected closeness, the warmth of his touch sending more heat to your face. You still have your arms tightly secured around him as you navigate the streets of Hogsmeade together. As you and Sebastian walked, your pace noticeably slower than the others, you watched as your friends gradually disappeared ahead of you. Imelda's infectious laughter echoed down the street, followed by the soft murmur of some other conversations.

“Hey, let’s play truth or dare.” you proposed, a mischievous twinkle in your eye as you glanced at Sebastian.

Sebastian chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I don't know if I'm ready to share all of my secrets." he teased.

You chuckled at his remark, the alcohol still coursing through your veins lending a sense of boldness to your suggestion. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Alright, you go first. Truth or dare?”

You paused for a moment, considering your options before finally replying, "Dare."

A mischievous grin spread across Sebastian’s face as he formulated a challenge. "I dare you to.. serenade the next person we pass on this street.”

You scoffed at the challenge, deeming it far too easy to pass up. As an older gentleman, dressed impeccably in a top hat and proper suit, approached, you seized the opportunity. Stepping boldly in front of him, you launched into a spontaneous serenade, belting out a random song from the depths of your imagination.

The man's reaction was one of sheer bewilderment, his eyes widening in disbelief as he continued walking, shooting you a perplexed glance over his shoulder. But you were undeterred by his reaction, pouring your heart and soul into the impromptu performance.

Sebastian couldn't contain his laughter, doubling over with amusement as he watched the scene unfold. With a grin, he pulled you away from the bemused gentleman before things got too out of hand and you got reported for harassment. "Alright, you lunatic," he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That was not too shabby."

You grinned triumphantly as you kept on walking, feeling a rush of exhilaration at having completed the dare. "Hey, I aim to please." you replied, your voice filled with satisfaction.

As the two of you continued down the street, still chuckling at the absurdity of the situation.

"Okay, your turn." you said to Sebastian.

"Truth." Sebastian replied, his expression curious yet composed.

You hummed thoughtfully, considering your question carefully before finally deciding on one that would test the waters. "Do you think I'm pretty?" you asked, your voice tinged with playfulness.

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected question. He paused for a moment, his gaze searching yours before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Of course," he replied sincerely, his voice soft yet earnest. "I think you’re beautiful."

You hummed in amusement and couldn't suppress a giggle. "I think you're beautiful, too, Sebastian Sallow." you admitted, feeling a rush of warmth at the confession. As you rested your head on his arm, a comfortable silence settled between you.

He chuckled at the sight of your sly face leaning on his arm and eyes could barely manage to stay open “You’re so drunk.”

“I told you I wanted to be swayed by a cute guy tonight.” you mumbled, your words slurred slightly from the effects of the alcohol.

"I think you've had enough swaying for one night," he teased, his voice warm and affectionate.

You let out a soft giggle in response, the alcohol making everything feel hazy and surreal. "Maybe," you conceded with a playful grin. "But it's your turn. Quick.”

“Fine. Dare me.”

“Alright,” you replied. This time, you took your time considering what dare to give him. You want to make sure that you’re optimising this opportunity. You didn’t know what had gotten into your head aside from the obvious alcohol, but spurred on by a sudden surge of courage, you somehow managed to say, “I dare you to kiss me.”

Sebastian laughed at your request, and thought you were kidding, but it quickly died down and stopped at his feet when he saw your face looking serious “Wait, you’re serious?”

You held his gaze steadily, “Yes.” Despite the sudden rush of nerves coursing through your veins, you stood your ground, determined to see this dare through. “Kiss me.”

His expression shifted from amusement to something more contemplative, like his eyes were searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But your gaze was unwavering as if urging him to finally close the distance you’ve been dreaming to perish.

Sebastian took a step closer and lifted your chin with his finger to get a better view of your lips. As he leaned in closer, you closed your eyes in anticipation of your first kiss with Sebastian, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. When his lips finally met yours, there was a surge of energy coursing through your entire body, sending shivers down your spine.

It was a soft and tender kiss, nothing deep, but it filled with emotion that had been kept away for two years. It was truly a moment that took your breath away. Surrounded by the quiet beauty of the night, you felt a connection between you and Sebastian that transcended words. It was as if the universe had aligned just for this moment, bringing the two of you together in perfect harmony.

He pulled away, and your gazes locked. You could tell his breathing was shallow from the nerves. The look on his eyes was something you’ve never seen before like a mixture of desire, longing, and a hint of vulnerability. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to devour you– to be lost in you with passion.

In that moment, you felt a surge of boldness coursing through you, fueled by the electric connection between you and Sebastian. Without hesitation, you reached out, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips crashing together in a fierce and hungry kiss. It was like a wildfire consuming you both, igniting a passion that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Sebastian wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer until your bodies were pressed tightly together. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt the heat of his touch. It was as if every nerve in your body was alight with lust, and you couldn't help but respond to the intensity of the moment.

As if spurred on by the sound of your moan, Sebastian deepened the kiss, his lips moving with a hunger that matched your own. You felt his crave coursing through him, a raw and primal energy that left you breathless and wanting more.

Without hesitation, you parted your lips, inviting him to explore the depths of your mouth with his tongue. Sebastian tilted his head so he could gain better access. It was a dance of passion that's been kept away for two years and each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

It was truly magical, and sensual even. You didn’t care about the fact that the two of you were standing in the middle of the road or if someone passed by and stared, because in that moment, it truly felt like you finally owned each other. It made you think of all the sinful things you wanted him to do to you and It was as if a silent understanding passed between you, a shared desire that fueled the intensity of the kiss. Without a word, Sebastian guided you backwards until your back met the sturdy trunk of a tree by the roadside.

As his lips trailed along your jaw, ear, and down to your neck, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the sensation of his touch. Every brush of his lips against your skin sent heat to your loin. When his hand found its way to your breast, cupping and squeezing it with a firm yet gentle touch, you couldn't contain the moan that escaped your lips. Your body truly felt as if it was on fire, craving his touch with an intensity that left you breathless.

Instinctively, you lifted your leg to his side, drawing him closer and inviting him to explore further. The consuming lusts between you was fucking evident.

As Sebastian's hand explored your chest, eliciting waves of pleasure with each touch, you couldn't help but release another soft moan of pleasure “Oh.. Sebastian..”

At the call of his name, it was as if a sudden wake-up call had jolted Sebastian out of the passionate haze. He pulled away abruptly, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes filled with a mix of realisation and apprehension. In that moment, it was as if the weight of what had just transpired between you both crashed down on him like a ton of bricks.

All you could think about was the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, the realisation dawning on you that your friendship with Sebastian was officially ruined. The two of you were breathless and exhilarated. Your lips swollen and tingling with the remnants of his touch.

He took a couple of steps back away from you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you screamed in your head. He remained silent, his eyes locked on yours, leaving you to wonder what the fuck was going on? Was he regretting it? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you as you tried to decipher the expression on his face. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping in.

“Sebastian..” you whispered.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said as he looked away, “I didn’t mean to..”

“It’s okay..” You replied.

Your words echoed in the silence that followed, and you felt a pang of disappointment wash over you. It was as if reality had come crashing down, shattering the illusion of the moment you had shared together. But then, unable to resist the urge to seek reassurance, you blurted out the question that had been lingering in your mind. "Do you like me?"

Sebastian's expression softened as he looked back at you, his eyes searching yours with a depth that sent a flutter through your chest. “Of course, I do.” He replied rather softly.

“Like a friend?”

A lump formed in Sebastian’s throat, making it hard for him to swallow as nervousness crept over him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation they were about to have. “Well, friends don’t do the things that we just did, do they?”

“Not really.” You replied. The weight of his words sobering you up almost instantly. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the stark reality of the situation between you.

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, each of you grappling with the implications of what had just transpired. You took a deep breath and with a shaky hand, you reached up to straighten your messy shirt and ran your fingers through your dishevelled hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Do you want it to be more than just a friend?" he finally managed to say.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his question, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability reflected in them, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. “Do you want it to be?”

“I asked you first.” He quickly and assertively interjected, “Do you want it to be something more?”

"Yes," you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart. "Yes, I do."

"Then, how come you never said anything?" he asked, his tone tinged with a mixture of frustration and longing.

“How come you never said anything?”

He felt a pang of guilt at his words, realising that he had been holding back his true feelings for far too long. "How was I supposed to know?" he shot back, your voice tinged with defensiveness.

"Oh, because we've only been hanging out together every day for two years, we shared countless life and death moments, was that not enough?" you added sarcastically, the weight of your unspoken emotions finally surfacing. “Am I.. not enough?”

Sebastian's expression softened at your words, a look of understanding crossing his features. He took a step closer. "You are more than enough," he said softly and his voice was filled with sincerity. "You are everything to me."

“Everyone wonders why we aren’t together,” you echoed softly. “Well, little did they know I also wondered the same thing.” You looked up at Sebastian, meeting his gaze with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. And as you stood there, lost in each other's eyes, you could find everything you’ve ever wanted.

He took another step forward, “I want you.” and another, until he could reach out to caress your cheek, “I’ve always wanted you ever since you kicked my ass in Hecat’s class.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, a mixture of relief and joy bubbling up inside you. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and suddenly, everything felt right in the world. His fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. In that moment, all the doubts and fears that had plagued you seemed to fade away.

“I want to love you.. to feel you..” He continued, “Way more than what we just did.” He smiled, but you could tell he was a little bit nervous.

"Well, you made me wait two years," you teased gently, a playful glint in your eye. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Sebastian's smile widened at your response, a sense of relief washing over him as he realised that you felt the same way. In that moment, you knew that you were both ready to take the next step in your relationship, to explore the depths of your love together with open hearts and open minds.

And as you leaned in to capture his lips in a tender kiss, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the journey that lay ahead. With Sebastianfinally by your side, you know everything is going to be great.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Seven

Summary - Your feelings for Eris are confronted and you make a choice that is sure to break you.

Warnings - angst, fluff, depression, betrayal, sadness, more angst

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Velaris hadn't been the same since you had left.

The entire population was scrutinizing the Inner Circle and the beast they called their High Lord who was doing his best to convince his people that you weren't well and had chosen to heal in the company of the realms best healers in Dawn.

No one believed it.

Rhys was pacing about the study, walking the length of it before turning on his heels and following the wall back to the other side whilst Cassian and Azriel stood before him, clammy palms and pale faces as the throbbing power of Rhys threatened to consume them.

It had been a back and forth conflict that had lasted for days, the words thrown had become so intense that Feyre had deigned to move herself and Nyx to the House of Wind. The main consensus was that a war with Autumn would be devastating to all involved, but Rhys had lost his mind for long enough to be void of the capability to see any reason.

All he wanted was his sister back in his court, safe and warm and protected, where her power wouldn't threaten anyone into daring to know more.

"She'll come back," Azriel's voice cut through the haze, his voice was sure but quaking, and Rhys halted his movements, approaching the desk and taking a seat.

Their High Lord was a shell of himself, a wild glare had consumed his dark eyes, none of them could remember the last time he had smiled or joked, all he did was speak of you, of how to get you back.

"Did your shadows tell you something?"

Azriel shuffled in his seat, dreading what he had to say, for his brother didn't know the exact details of what occurred with you at the boarder of Winter and Autumn, "No," he cleared his throat, "You threatened Elain, Lucien, and Eris," he gulped, "And Nesta."

Cassian hadn't been doing well without her, he hardly slept or ate, and he flinched with pain more often than not due to the bond being so weak and brittle, close to extinction. Their shared brother snapped his head in their direction, his gaze wide as it moved between Rhys and Azriel, both of which kept some vital information from him.

The Shadowsinger continued, "You know that y/n would never put anyone in harms way, she would never risk the lives of the people she loves most," he wasn't sure if he was included in that list anymore, "She just wants to be free. I beg you to think of a different way to establish peace."

Rhys rolled his eyes, bored of the same words, "You saw what she can do now," he leaned forward in the chair and the stars panicked in response, blinking quickly, some even vanished from the sky entirely.

Neither of them could escape the image of those licks of blame flame curling up your fingers and forearm, they couldn't escape the coldness in your glare, and Azriel in particular couldn't escape the flash of pain that shot through your face when he had taken a step back from you.

"Even then, does it mean that we need to go to war? We've barely recovered from Hybern and Koschei as it is, our armies will perish-"

"You can both leave," Rhys drawled, uninterested, bored even, as he picked a threat from his suit jacket and let it float to the floor, "Start preparing our armies, Cass." A stiff nod from Cassian acted as his reply, he rose from his seat, eyes still wide and white knuckles gleaming in the moonlight.

Come home, or I will make sure that you are left with nothing.

Nothing.

The faint scent of cinnamon kissed the air, meaning that Eris was home, and the more intense it grew the more it became clear that he was searching for you as he always did when he returned to the manor. All he had to do was follow the aroma of you, the one scent that he would bottle up if he could just so your scent could drown his clothes and senses.

“Hello Fawn,” he called to you, his voice purred with adoration, and your spine tingled at the sensation of it. As quickly as he spoke the words, Eris frowned, noting the blank stare you held at whatever held your attention beyond the window.

Night had fallen upon Autumn, the sky held the last few flickers of light as dark purple licked the sky and faded to black.

The exhaustion was clear on your face as he fell to your side, his arm brushing against your own as though he was reminding you of where you were. Not Night. Autumn.

Eris had believed that he was making some headway with you, but after Rhys, it felt like you had constructed a dam of steel around your mind. Cold and unimpeachable. It was warranted, but dangerous, and Eris noticed you retreating into yourself more every passing moment.

“What’s wrong?”

Turning to face him, you etched his face to memory, whisky amber eyes full of worry, tight lips, messy red hair that fell past his ears; he had left in a rush that morning, negating to properly style his hair which meant that it was messy but too alluring to pay attention to. He was dressed in ivory briefs and a white shirt, a red waistcoat and jacket both adorned with vines of gold.

A High Lord if you ever did see one.

All you wanted to do was reach out and push a strand behind his ear, to graze his cheekbone with your fingers. But you couldn’t. If there was any chance of Rhys finding out of how much Eris meant to you then he would surely ensure the most brutal punishment possible.

A serene but forced smile consumed your lips, lips that were chapped and broken from the bouts of anxiety that crashed down on you, “Nothing,” you told him, eyes flickering. Shaking your head, you explained, “Nesta was a bit brutal with training today but it’s fine.”

That’s right. Eris had been too busy that day to train with you, you had both been enjoying your sessions grappling with the carranam powers you had discovered, but Eris hadn’t had the time, which meant that Nesta was keeping her eye on you.

The stare didn’t relent but you didn’t shrink under it, you’d never shrink yourself for anyone ever again, so you turned back to peer out of the cloudy glass, “How can I make it better?”

Tension fizzled, Eris took your hands in his, stroking his thumb over the soft surface and resting on your pulse, “Train with me tomorrow.”

Eris smirked, “Done.”

Faint cricket song creaked through the open window, the low beating glow of the fireflies allowed you to see the pond rippling beyond the glass panes that were doing their best to keep the cold from seeping into your bones. Moments had flickered where you seemed unsure, moments where your mind was reeling, trying to figure out what was the next best step not only for you, but your people.

For Eris.

Oddly enough, it had been Elain who would come to your room at night, or Lucien; Nesta knew when to leave you alone and Eris didn't like imposing on your space, but Elain and Lucien, together or separate, seemed to know what you needed more than yourself.

Elain would bring an assortment of baked goods, she'd perch them on the edge of the bed and climb atop the comforter to wedge herself beside you; she wouldn't talk, she would simply listen and occasionally chirp soft advise whilst those pastries loosened your lips. Lucien however was much more straightforward, he would burst into your room no matter the time, he knew you'd be awake regardless, he'd say that he could feel your thoughts pulsing about the manor, uneasy and painful, and he would come to you to make you smile.

Much like how Cassian used to.

The soft patter of rain sounded beyond the threshold, the scent of it made you close your eyes and smile, inhaling the newly damp earth of Autumn, "Talk to me," Eris' fingers reached for you, curling a strand of your hair around them and pushing it behind your pointed ear; his fingers continued to travel, hooking beneath your chin and gently tugging your gaze to his, "You haven't been yourself."

Eris towered over you, his breath crept along your cheeks as thunder cracked in the distance, a flash of lightening snapped across the sky, "How can I be?"

It wasn't supposed to be painful, pushing people away, but it was tearing your soul apart. In some way, you'd much rather be alone for the rest of your long life than risk anything ever happening to anyone you loved. Rhys was determined to take you, Eris was determined to not allow it, and you were determined to save them from ruin.

Sighing, you unwound the blockade around your heart, feeling it strain and groan as you gave it space to breathe, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Eris watched your eyes glaze over, he watched that ring of fire dim, he watched as your bottom lip wobbled as you spoke, "I'm tired, Eris."

The High Lord figured as much, the bags that clung to your undereye grew larger each day, he had asked you multiple times if you wanted to talk, but you had denied it, you had been too focused in removing yourself physically so that if you really did then it wouldn't hurt as much.

I'm tired, Eris.

Those three words told him everything he needed to know. You were tired of life, you were tired of the betrayal and the lies, you were tired of the small voices in your mind telling you that you weren't worthy of anything good because how could any good being be used by the people who was meant to love and protect them?

Cracking walls allowed the storm to seep in, and Eris had been expecting it for awhile, he had monitored your anxious actions and sleuthing, he knew that the walls were due to collapse.

"Oh gods," your hand pressed on your stomach, leaving his own palm suddenly cold, you were trying to alleviate the pain dwelling inside of you like a demon, "How could they do this?"

The mere image of your face crumpling had Eris wrapping you into his arms as the last few weeks tore through the abyss toward you, clawing at the confinements you had locked them in. Sobs bubbled through your lips and Eris felt your tears soak through the cotton of his shirt, and all he could do was allow you to go through the motions. It was better to be held in your darkest hour than battle it alone. If all Eris could offer you was his shoulder and gentle caresses, then he would spend the rest of his life making sure he was there to lend them to you.

You had spent the last couple of days playing the memories of your life in your mind, ignoring the blank spots hidden within them, you were trying to figure out what exactly had been a lie, or what you could have done to deserve a life of chains and steel.

"My entire life is tainted now, I don't know what was real anymore. The bargain with Azriel, the shopping trips with Mor, researching with Amren and training with Cassian, painting with Feyre," you paused, "Even Rhys, when did he decide that I was better off locked away? When did he decide that it was best to spread stories of the monster of Velaris rather than the stories of his sister?"

The fond memories of dancing in Rita's until sunrise with Mor and Cassian had turned to ash alongside the moments you had spent with every member of your false family.

Eris ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips grazing across your scalp, he knew you loved the feeling, and his chest rumbled as he spoke, "Do not fear the storm, y/n," his lips lingered just by your ear and you could faintly feel the parting as he spoke against the shell, "You are learning how to sail your ship. You will get through this, we'll get through it all, together," he pulled away from you but still held you in his arms, the flash of lightening slicing across his face, moulding with the light of the dancing flames dotted about the space in the form of tealights and lanterns hanging from the ceiling, "Just for now. Find a corner of your soul that feels good. And rest there."

Feeling seen and heard felt so foreign to you, but in Autumn, with Eris, you felt alive. Autumn had wrapped her doting arms around you and used her embrace to will you back to life, she willed you to find joy and passion, and perhaps even love.

Perhaps the Mother had sent Autumn to you to lead you to a life that would be worth all of the pain and loneliness. Peering up at Eris, you admired his beauty, the sharp but rugged look, the amber whisky eyes that reminded you of molten bronze, his stupidly perfect hair that Nesta told you constantly was something from novels, "Thank you, for making me feel alive."

Eris sucked in a breath and the candles burned brighter, their light covering the ceiling, "Thank you for making me believe that I'm worthy of being happy."

Extending your fingers over his chest, right above his heart, you frowned and asked, "You aren't happy?"

"I wasn't, but then you came, and now I am."

The smile on your face was radiant, soft and gentle, full of understanding, "We only have one life in this world, Eris. That's reason enough to stop holding back," silent permission sang to him and he rested his hands on the curve of your hips.

The demon within you didn't scare him, what Nesta had told him didn't scare him, nothing about you brought him any form of discomfort or doubt.

"I didn't stop thinking about you after I saw you Under The Mountain, you were humming a song that felt so familiar, your voice was so weak but so enchanting," he recounted, "I remember the light finding you like it always has, I remember the vacant look in your eye and the scuffle of your bare and bloody feet on the ground," Eris cupped your face in his hands, and your fingers drifted around his wrists, "That image haunts me, but that song, that beautifully awful thing has been the only thing to bring me any sort of peace since that place." Since Amarantha and Under The Mountain, "I saw you like I do now, wounded and hurting in so many ways, and I swore to myself that if I ever had the chance, that I would make sure it never happened again."

"The war against Hybern was won because of you, I saw you on that battlefield wielding that sword like it was an extension of yourself, you had rose from the ashes of Amarantha herself and tilted the scales in our favour," a gentle amused huff passed through your lips, "Then you aided me, you risked everything for my vision because you believed in it, because you believe in a better world for everyone, not just your own people. And then you came to me for help, because somewhere deep inside of you, you knew you'd be safe here, with me. And that night, on that balcony of the Day Court, for the first time, I saw you and I didn't just want to have you, but I wanted to deserve you. I asked the Mother for you, despite feeling undeserving, feeling disrespectful for ever thinking of it. Instead, I prayed to her to make me worthy of you."

Eris' molten bronze gaze was trying to tell you something, but you couldn't quite figure it out, not when he was looking at your lips like that, not when every fibre of your being was needing to mould itself inside of him.

"Do you know what the song is?"

Shaking his head, Eris muttered a small 'no', so you told him, "It's the song of your ancestors, the Symphony of Ash. I knew that it must have been awful to see me like that and you always used to say that you liked my voice, and I just thought that you could use a lullaby."

All air rushed from his lungs. You knew that he was watching you that night, and that song, that beautifully horrid thing, was for him. So that even if his nightmares kept him awake, you voice would lull him back to slumber, a song from his court that you had learned.

Even in the moments when you were worlds apart, strangers almost, you had still cared enough to spare him a thought of comfort in the days that weren't so bright for him either despite your own torture.

"That was for me?"

A delicate hum sounded from your throat, "Take it as a gift from one former betrothed to another."

"Former betrothed?"

Frowning, you pulled back slightly, but that frown soon turned to wonder, "You don't remember?" The blank look in his eye confirmed it, "We were supposed to get married before, well, I was locked away and you were directed to Mor. It was meant to be me and you."

"I remember our parents talking of it when we were children, but I didn't realise that it was ever real."

"It was very real."

Eris felt his soul burn, he felt your fingers curl around it, he felt your darkness kiss his fire, and he shuddered at the singing of his essence, "Me and you?"

"Us."

"Can I kiss you?"

You shouldn't. You couldn't. It would make what you had to do even harder. But it was Eris, it was his eyes and lips, his softness and adoration, it was the small boy you had grown up looking out for always without him even knowing it.

Swallowing hard, you moved closer to him, feeling electric as his fingers curled around the curve of your jaw, "Yes."

Eris lowered his lips to yours an he hovered there for a moment, preparing himself for the moment he had always desired, with the woman he couldn't get out of his mind. His lips were soft against yours, it was like kissing the sun, it was soul-consuming and scorching; his lips moved with yours as his hands ran down your spine to rest on the small of your back, pressing you further into him and slipping his tongue into your mouth when you broke for a moment to breathe.

It was a feeling you wanted to bask in forever, you felt light curl around you, you felt his warmth wrap you up in its embrace, you felt his lips on yours and his nose brushing against the tip of your own.

Fisting your fingers through his hair, you used his shoulders for leverage as he placed you on the countertop, your hands delved into his jacket and ran down his chest, and his gripped the skin of your thighs. Reluctantly, Eris paused before it went any further, exhaling deeply whilst resting his forehead against your own, "As much as I want to make you mine," his eyes delved into your own, "Our first time together deserves to be magical, and alone."

"Too right."

Freezing in position, you turned your head to find Lucien stood in the doorway, shirtless with his hand covering his eyes, peeking at you through his fingers. Eris threw his head back and groaned, cradling your head to his chest to hide your clear embarrassment from Lucien finding you both in a compromising position.

"I'm not judging," Lucien teased, "I just didn't expect to come in here to see you two with your tongues down each other's throats."

"Stop talking," you squeaked, cringing at his booming laugh, you blocked out the words from Eris, and instead waited until he scooped you into his arms, continuing to hide you from Lucien as he carried you upstairs and nestled into the bed with you.

Eris was bare bar his undergarments, his scarred chest shone in the firelight and you found yourself tracing the swirls idly whilst he pressed kisses into your hairline, allowing his thumb to stroke against your cheek.

"Tomorrow we'll figure out how to put a stop to this," he sounded so sure, but you knew he was scared, he held you a touch tighter as he spoke, "And then we'll live the life that we want to live."

His optimism was wounding.

Rhys was never going to stop, you knew him well enough to know that once he wanted something he would never halt his efforts to claim it.

After hours of serene chatter, you kissed Eris and told him to rest. As the firelight flickered to lifeless ash, when you knew that Eris was sound asleep and dreaming of you, you slipped from the bed.

Elain stood before the oven with a faint smile on her lips, excited to prod you with questions after what Lucien had so luckily found the night before.

Simmering sun poured through the windows, the storm had broke and the sun shone overhead, cascading her heavenly glow across the grass, caressing her animals as her light spread over Autumn. Birdsong chirped through the slightly ajar window, but Elain's smile had drifted, and her eyes had turned a milky white.

Night. Stars. Snow-capped mountains. A grey dress fit for a princess floating along the Sidra.

Gasping, Elain inhaled, she engulfed the air in her lungs, trying to locate you within it. But there was nothing there.

The shatter of the glass bowl in her hands was enough to cause both Nesta and Lucien to rush into the room, poised to attack, but faltering when they saw the wild look in Elain's eye, "Have you seen y/n? I had a vision."

"What vision, Elain?" Nesta approached Elain tentatively, her palms outstretched to connect with her sisters arms.

Elain gripped onto Nesta, "Of snow-capped mountains and a sky full of stars, of the dress she wore to Helion's party the day she denounced the Night Court drifting along the Sidra. I heard her crying."

Nesta snapped her gaze to Lucien, gasping when she saw Eris stood behind him, his gaze low and pulsating with fire as his chest rose and fell so fast that Nesta thought his heart would stop beating entirely. The room became hot, too hot, swelteringly so, and Eris brushed against Lucien as he approached the two Archeron sisters.

Placing his palms on the countertop, the same one where only hours before he was holding you and meeting your confessions with his own, Eris growled, low, and possessive, "Where is my mate?"

Author's Note

I am burning rn.

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla @oucereeng @andreperez11 @demonicbusiness @megscabinetofcurios @superspideyparker

[jzprncess]

love language by sza

"talk to me in your love language"

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 2/2 previous part

word count : 4,065

summary : After being apart for what felt like an eternity and discovering his girlfriend's newfound knowledge of Dutch, he couldn't contain his excitement. He expressed his appreciation in a multitude of heartfelt but also sensual ways.

warnings : just basic love making

note : not gonna lie, i had trouble writing this one but thank the world i finish this!! thanks for everyone for tuning in on my first completed series? idk what this is.

❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

 As they lingered in the warmth of each other's gaze, the world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in this moment. The soft glow of the kitchen light illuminated their faces, casting gentle shadows that danced around them.

The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked apple pie hung in the air like a sweet promise of what was to come, its spicy notes weaving through the atmosphere and stirring their senses. Y/N felt her heart race as she watched the flicker of something deep and genuine in Max's eyes—something that ignited a spark within her, a yearning that had been building during their time apart.

Max took a step closer, brushing his fingers along her arms, trailing them down to her waist, where they rested possessively. The warmth of his touch sent shivers racing across her skin, igniting a warmth that spread from her core outward. He leaned in again, his breath a whisper against her lips as he murmured, "Say that again."

"Ik hou van jou," she repeated softly, her voice low and sultry, filled with the weight of her feelings. The way his eyes sparkled with delight made her pulse quicken, each heartbeat echoing the intensity of the moment. He chuckled, his lips curving into a grin that made her heart swell, an infectious joy radiating from him.

"Your Dutch is getting better, but your kisses are still the best," he teased, leaning in closer again, their lips almost touching, the anticipation palpable between them.

"Maybe I should keep practicing," she replied, her voice playful as she leaned into him, their bodies swaying slightly together like leaves in a gentle breeze, the world around them dimming in significance.

With a knowing smile, he closed the gap, capturing her lips with his once more, this time with more urgency. The kiss was a sweet melding of warmth and longing, a dance that spoke of the days apart and the hunger for connection. He pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss, his hands exploring the curve of her back, drawing her against him as if they were two pieces that fit perfectly together, a puzzle complete only in each other's presence.

The kitchen faded away, and all that mattered was the heat between them. She lost herself in the moment, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer still, as their kisses grew more fervent, more desperate, each touch a whisper of unspoken words filled with longing and desire.

"Y/N," he breathed against her lips, his voice thick with emotion, "I've missed you so much." His forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between, creating a shared warmth that enveloped them. “It’s agonizing to be apart from you,” he groaned, his voice laced with genuine pain. “The races are unbearable without you by my side.” Each word was laced with sincerity, the vulnerability in his tone making her heart ache with affection.

"I'm here now," she whispered, a soft smile breaking through her breathlessness. "And I'm not going anywhere." With a sudden burst of courage, she brushed her lips against his again, this time more insistently, pouring every ounce of emotion she felt into the kiss. He responded with an intensity that sent her heart racing, their bodies pressing together until there was no space left between them, every inch of their skin igniting with a shared fire.

In that moment, the world outside faded completely—no racing, no pressures, just them. Max's hands slid down to her hips, urging her closer still as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his pent-up affection into every lingering touch, their hearts beating in rhythm with one another.

As they pulled apart, the air crackled with an electric charge, and Y/N gazed up at him, her heart still pounding wildly. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the way he looked at her—so intensely, so completely—made her heart flutter.

"I wanted to surprise you with the pie," she said breathlessly, trying to regain her composure, her cheeks flushed with warmth, but the playful sparkle in his eyes told her he was not so easily distracted.

"Why not surprise me with something even sweeter?" he replied, his tone a low, teasing growl that sent delicious shivers down her spine as he lowered his lips to her ear, kissing the sensitive spot just below it, making her gasp. "Something like this," he continued, his voice thick with desire, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Max's presence enveloped Y/N like a warm embrace, his intentions clear as he led her into the living room. The soft, ambient light filled the space with a cozy glow, creating an atmosphere that felt both intimate and charged with unspoken possibilities. Every step felt like a promise, and as they crossed the threshold into the intimate space, the anticipation hung thick in the air, a sweet tension vibrating between them, as if the very walls were witnesses to their longing.

As they stepped into the living room, the warm light enveloped them like a soft embrace. Max's hand found Y/N's, fingers intertwining effortlessly as they walked deeper into the space. The couch beckoned, plush and inviting, but Max had other intentions. His eyes, dark with longing, flickered toward the hallway that led to their bedroom, a slow smile creeping across his lips.

“Let’s take our time,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine. He pulled her closer, his hands resting gently on her hips. Instead of guiding her to sit down, he leaned into her ear, his breath warm as he whispered, "Come with me."

With her heart racing, Y/N followed his lead as Max’s fingers gently tugged at her hand, steering her down the dimly lit corridor. The familiar path to their bedroom felt different tonight, every step echoing with the promise of the intimacy they craved.

The tender glow from the living room dissipated as they ventured into the sanctuary of their bedroom, the atmosphere heavy with longing and expectation. Max's eyes smoldered with a yearning that mirrored her own as he delicately closed the door, encapsulating them in a world meant only for two. "I've missed this," he murmured, his voice rough with sentiment, each syllable dripping with unspoken promises.

Y/N could feel the cool edge of the bed grazing the back of her knees, causing a shiver to run up her spine. A gentle exhale escaped her lips as Max's hands, warm and inviting, traced the contours of her body. His touch was like a match, igniting a flame within her that had been dormant for far too long. The world outside their intimate haven faded away. 

"Let’s make it count," Max purred, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down her spine. He pulled her into him with a tender strength, their bodies melding together as if two pieces of a puzzle finally reunited. Their lips met in a kiss that was slow, deep, and full of longing. The kiss spoke volumes, erasing the last vestiges of space between them, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

As they pulled away for breath, Max rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing her cheek. "I missed you," he murmured, his voice raw with honesty. "Every day, every night... I missed the way you feel, the way you taste."

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "I missed you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible but loaded with meaning. "I thought about this moment… about us, together, more than you know."

Max’s eyes darkened with desire as he brought his lips to hers again, this time with even more intensity. His hands roamed, exploring the familiar terrain of her body as if it were the first time, each touch a reverent caress. She could feel the heat radiating from him, engulfing her in a warmth that was both comforting and exciting. Her own hands began their own journey, reacquainting themselves with the lines and planes of his body.

“God, Y/N,” he groaned softly as she ran her fingers over his chest, “you drive me insane. I can’t get enough of you.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied breathlessly, her lips grazing his neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes met hers, filled with an emotion that made her heart stutter. "Good," he whispered. "Because I don’t ever want to be without you again."

The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing in a sensual tango that left them both breathless. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air charged with an electricity that was palpable. Slowly, ever so slowly, they sank onto the bed, their bodies intertwined in a lovers' embrace. The soft, downy comforter embraced them like a cloud, a fitting backdrop for their reunion.

As they shed their clothes, each piece of fabric slipping away like petals of a flower, Max paused, his gaze lingering on her. "You’re so beautiful," he whispered reverently, his fingers brushing over her bare skin. "I don’t tell you that enough."

Y/N blushed under his intense gaze, her heart swelling at his words. "You do," she murmured, "but I never get tired of hearing it."

Max smiled, a tender expression that contrasted with the raw desire in his eyes. "I love you," he said softly, the sincerity in his voice making her chest tighten. "I love everything about you."

Her breathe caught in her throat, as he brought his lips back to hers in a kiss filled with tenderness. "I love you too, Max," she whispered against his mouth. "So much."

His smile widened against her lips as he kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the moment. As their bodies entwined, Max's lips began a leisurely journey down Y/N’s body, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made her skin rise with goosebumps. His hands followed, caressing her with a gentle reverence that made her feel cherished, adored.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with passion. “I don’t know how I survived these weeks without you.”

Y/N gasped softly, her heart pounding in her chest as his mouth worked its magic. “You’re here now,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. “And that’s all that matters.”

Max chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. "You're right. Let's make up for lost time."

As he continued his intimate exploration of her body, his hands gentle but firm, Y/N’s breath quickened. She bit her lip, trying to suppress a moan as his lips lingered at her hips before moving lower. When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his breath warm against her most sensitive spot.

“Max…” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, filled with need.

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Her heart raced at the raw intensity in his voice. “I want you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I want to feel all of you…please.”

Max’s gaze softened for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against her inner thigh. "Then I’ll give you everything," he replied, his voice low and full of promise. "All of me, every part that’s been missing you."

He kissed her there, slow and deliberate, savoring the way her body reacted to his touch. Y/N’s back arched, her hands gripping the sheets as she gasped at the sensation. "Max…" she whimpered, her voice a mix of plea and pleasure.

“I love how you say my name,” he murmured between kisses, his lips tracing delicate patterns across her skin. “Say it again.”

“Max,” she breathed, her body trembling under the weight of his affection, her desire coiling tighter with every passing second. “Please…”

“Please what?” he teased, his tone playful but his movements slow and deliberate. “Tell me exactly what you need.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked down at him, her eyes locked on his. “I need you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with raw desire. “I need you inside me, Max… right now.”

Her words ignited something primal in him, and Max’s playful expression shifted to one of fierce intensity. "You don’t have to wait any longer," he murmured, his voice rough with longing. He moved up her body, their skin brushing together as he positioned himself above her.

Their eyes met once again, and in that quiet moment, the air between them seemed to hum with electricity. Max gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “I need you just as much.”

Slowly, with a deliberate tenderness, he pushed into her, filling her completely. Y/N gasped, her body arching as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. The feeling of him inside her, of their bodies joined, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

“Oh, Max…” she breathed, her voice filled with emotion and desire. The connection between them went beyond the physical—this was the culmination of all the love, the longing, the need they had for each other.

They began to move together, their bodies finding a rhythm that was slow, deliberate, and filled with passion.

Every thrust was a declaration, a promise of the love they shared and the desire that had built up over the time they’d been apart. Max moved with a controlled intensity, each motion deliberate and deep, sending waves of pleasure through Y/N’s body. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as their bodies moved in perfect harmony.

“God, you feel incredible,” Max groaned, his voice husky as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "I’ve missed this... I’ve missed you."

Y/N could barely speak, her mind clouded with pleasure, but she managed to whisper, “I’ve missed you too… more than you know.”

The world around them seemed to melt away as they lost themselves in each other. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated their entwined bodies, casting shadows across the room as they moved together. The tension between them began to build, the pleasure intensifying with every movement, every touch.

Max’s lips found hers again, and they kissed with a renewed passion, their breaths mingling as their pace quickened. “Max... I’m so close," Y/N whispered breathlessly, her voice trembling as the tension in her body coiled tighter with each thrust.

Max groaned softly, his grip on her hips tightening as he quickened his pace just slightly, pushing deeper, matching the rhythm of her breath. "I’ve got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you."

Her body responded instantly to his words, the intensity building to a crescendo. Y/N’s fingers gripped the sheets, her back arching as she lost herself in the overwhelming sensations. With one final thrust, the tension snapped, sending her spiraling into a powerful climax. A soft cry escaped her lips as her body trembled beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Max watched her in awe, his breath ragged as he felt her body tighten around him, her release pushing him closer to his own edge. He held on, guiding her through her orgasm, his touch tender but filled with a hunger that was only growing.

As Y/N’s breathing began to slow, her heart still racing, she looked up at him, her eyes heavy with satisfaction but still filled with desire.

"Max," she whispered, her voice still soft but laced with renewed desire. She gazed up at him, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her release, but a fresh wave of need stirred within her. "I need more of you."

Max’s eyes darkened with passion at her words. "You’ll have all of me," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, pouring all of his love and need into it. His hands roamed over her body, feeling the warmth of her skin, savoring every inch.

Without breaking the kiss, he began to move again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every second. Y/N moaned softly into his mouth, her body still sensitive but craving more of the intense connection between them. Their bodies moved in perfect unison, the rhythm building again but with an aching slowness that heightened every touch, every sensation.

“You feel so good,” Max groaned, his forehead resting against hers as they moved together. "I never want to stop."

Y/N’s heart swelled at his words, her fingers tracing the lines of his back as she whispered, "Don’t. Stay with me... like this."

Max’s eyes softened, his expression one of pure adoration. "Always," he breathed. "I’m not going anywhere."

They continued to move together, their bodies entwined as they rode the waves of pleasure. Y/N could feel another release building within her, slower this time, but just as intense. Each thrust from Max brought her closer, their movements perfectly in sync, the connection between them deepening with every second. She clung to him, her breath coming in short gasps as the pleasure mounted, her body trembling beneath him.

"Max…" she whispered, her voice a soft plea as her fingers tangled in his hair. "I’m so close again."

Max’s breathing was ragged, his muscles tense as he held back, wanting to savor every moment. "Me too," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you cum with me."

The intensity between them built to a fever pitch, the air charged with electricity. Y/N’s body responded to his every touch, her pulse quickening as her climax approached. Max’s hands gripped her hips tighter, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more deliberate as they both teetered on the edge.

And then, with a shared gasp, the tension broke. Y/N’s release crashed over her, her body arching into his as she moaned his name. The sensation of her tightening around him was enough to send Max over the edge, his own climax hitting him with a force that left him breathless. He buried his face in her neck, his body trembling as he rode out the waves of pleasure, their bodies locked together in the abyss.

For a moment, they stayed suspended in that blissful connection, hearts racing and bodies intertwined. As the final tremors of their shared climax faded, they both breathed heavily, wrapped in a warm cocoon of contentment.

Y/N gazed up at Max, her eyes shining with a mix of awe and affection. "That was… incredible," she whispered, still catching her breath.

Max smiled down at her, his fingers gently tracing her cheek. “You’re incredible,” he replied, his voice soft and filled with warmth. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that before.”

She smiled back, a sense of happiness flooding her chest. “Neither have I. I’ve missed this—us—so much.”

Max leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, his touch feather-light yet filled with longing. “We’ll make up for lost time,” he murmured against her lips. “I promise to always be here, to always come back to you.”

“I hope so,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “I just want to share moments like this with you, always.”

Max brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead, his expression serious yet tender. “You have my heart, Y/N. No matter where life takes me, I’ll always come back to you.”

They lay in silence for a moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside fading away. Max’s thumb brushed against her skin in soothing circles as they enjoyed the tranquility that followed their passionate encounter.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he shifted slightly, his body still intimately close to hers.

Y/N chuckled softly, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Well, I wouldn’t mind a little more kissing,” she teased, biting her lip.

Max raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Just kissing, huh? I think I can handle that.”

“Okay, maybe a little cuddling too,” she admitted, snuggling closer to him, resting her head against his chest.

“Cuddling is definitely in order,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close as they sank into the comfort of each other’s presence.

They lay together in peaceful silence, the quiet of the room punctuated only by their steady breathing. Y/N felt a sense of bliss wash over her, the warmth of Max’s body anchoring her in the moment. She felt safe, cherished, and utterly content.

“Promise me something,” she said after a while, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Anything,” Max replied, his tone serious.

“Promise me we’ll always find our way back to each other, no matter what,” she urged, looking up at him with earnest eyes.

Max smiled softly, his gaze unwavering. “I promise. No matter where we are, or how long we’re apart, my heart will always come home to you.”

Y/N sighed with relief, but then a playful smile crossed her face. “You know, I’m suddenly craving some appeltaart,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Max chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Apple pie? Didn’t we just take a couple of bites? You’re a hopeless romantic and a dessert lover!”

“I am! But I can’t help it if my mind goes straight to pie after a moment like this,” she teased, her heart lightening at the thought of enjoying their shared creation together.

He laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair. “Alright, let’s make a deal. I’ll grab us some more pie, but you have to promise me you won’t eat it all.”

Y/N grinned, her excitement bubbling over. “Only if you promise to let me have the first spoonful! I did all the work, after all.”

“Fine! But only if you feed some to me, like earlier,” he shot back playfully, nudging her.

As they exchanged banter, Y/N felt warmth bloom in her chest, knowing they would create countless more memories to cherish in the days to come. Each playful tease and shared laugh deepened the connection between them, solidifying their bond in ways words couldn’t express. She imagined all the moments they would share before Max had to leave again for racing—a whirlwind of late-night baking sessions filled with flour fights, spontaneous drives along the coast, and lazy afternoons spent exploring the city together.

The thought of their future together was a beautiful tapestry waiting to be woven, each thread representing a cherished memory. She could picture them at the kitchen counter, Max attempting to teach her the perfect way to cut an apple while she playfully distracted him. They’d create inside jokes about his “expert” baking skills and her inability to follow a recipe, laughing until their sides hurt.

With a soft sigh, she turned her head to gaze up at him, her heart swelling with affection. “We’re going to have an incredible journey, aren’t we?” she mused, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with hope.

Max met her gaze, his eyes shining with warmth and promise. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see where life takes us, even if that means I’ll be racing again soon.” He paused, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to come back for my favorite chef’s apple pie.”

Y/N laughed, feeling the joy bubble up inside her. “Just remember to bring me back some trophies, too!”

His laughter echoed through the room, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “Only if you promise to be waiting for me when I get back,” he said, his tone turning serious but still filled with affection.

“Always,” she replied, her heart pounding with certainty. Whatever challenges they faced—him being around the world, random phone calls, and the anticipation of his next departure—they would face them together. The future stretched out before them like a racetrack, filled with twists and turns but ultimately leading them back to one another, fueled by love, laughter, and an unwavering commitment to their shared journey.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list: @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey

[sky-is-the-limit]

+18

P: Captain Price x 141!F!Reader

CW: NSFW content, Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex

WC: 1,588 words

@glitterypirateduck

The scent of his cologne enveloped you, mingling with the subtle aroma of your perfume, creating a heady cocktail of pure primal need.

The fingers around your throat flexed, squeezing your neck firmer as he began pushing his cock further into you. Inch by heavy, agonizing inch, his unyielding hardness speared into your cunt, the thick girth of his cock pulling apart your walls.

"You like the thought of that, doll?" Every word that escaped his lips carried the weight of authority, resonating with a compelling power that demanded attention. His voice was deep and rich, with a velvety smoothness that held an irresistible allure.

The image of you underneath him, offering yourself completely to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he took you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond, only made John lose all sense of control he had left.

His touch was both commanding and tender, his hands moving with a sense of purpose as they explored every curve and contour of your body. You were clenching around him so tightly, the warmth of your folds urging him to fuck you senseless.. and so he did.

All you could feel was him inside you, grazing on your most sensitive spots and turning you delirious with pleasure. He was stretching you to your limits and it felt so ecstatic as he kept with his unrelenting thrusts, your cries fueling him to push harder.

Every nerve ending tingled with the remnants of bliss, a lingering echo of the intense pleasure that had washed over you in a tidal wave of sensation

''F-fuck, sir-ah!'' Words fell from your lips, incoherent babbles of his name mixing with your moans creating the most beautiful symphony in the silence of the room. ''So good- so full, fuck.''

Though you knew the affair was wrong, your insatiable desire for him eclipsed all rationality, rendering you indifferent to the consequences.

Despite the looming consequences, you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating spell he casted over you. From the moment you were assigned under his command.

In his arms, you found solace from the fucked up monstrosities of the outside world, and for a brief moment, the weight of your forbidden feelings felt almost bearable. For you, the allure of this illicit romance was beyond all reason, leaving you willing to risk everything for the sake of his affections.

In the end, what severe consequences could even measure to those eyes. Blue like the stormy sea, deep and intense, holding a magnetic pull that you found impossible to resist.

And in that fleeting moment, of your bodies intertwined and his prominent features illuminated by the moonlight.. You'd defy the most powerful armies to be held by John Price.

He swiveled his hips, your spine twisting off of the bed as you felt his cockhead drag against your sweet-spot before battering into your cervix. With each and every one of his thrusts, his thick shaft opened up your walls, the velvet hardness stimulating every erogenous zone and setting your nerves afire with pleasure.

Hoarse cries of ecstasy teared from your throat, his cock vehemently surging into you over and over again.

"Answer me." His lips left a trail of fire in their wake, igniting a fervent longing deep within your core.

You arched your neck, offering yourself completely to his overwhelming ministrations, lost in the addictive bliss of his touch as his girthy cock was rearranging your insides with the immediate force and pace of his thrusts.

His hands grappled at your hips, your tits, your shoulders, and your legs, anything to get to ram himself into you. Each thrust was punctuated by growls and clicks from the back of his throat and finally, the right words fell from his lips without a trace of shame.

"You like the thought of me filling you up, don't you?" Wired beyond belief, the implications and consequences of his words were entirely lost on you.

"Yes, ah-" In a voice barely above a whisper, you replied, your words laced with a delicate vulnerability that stirred something primal within him as your nails raked down to his pecks, leaving angry, red welts in their wake.

The pleasure was almost too much, your fingers tightening in their grip on the sheets and trying to drag yourself away from the feeling. With a grunt, Price wrenched your hand out of the sheets, hand circling tightly around the bend of your elbow as he pulled you back towards him. His hips picked back up their rhythm, hand landing a thundering smack on your ass cheek as he fucked into you.

"Yes, what?" He asked, his words punctuated by deep, hard plunges. The blunt head of his cock battered against the supple walls of your cervix, a dull ache forming within your womb and hips from the unforgiving power of his thrusts.

"Yes, sir-" You responded immediately, the honorific just sounding right in every context when it came to that man.

A cry was wrenched from your throat at the feeling of him filling you so completely, not sparing a second before he was pistoning his hips against yours. With your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of his tip bullying your cervix, you felt the curve of his dick brushing against that spongy spot inside you. 

"I want you to fuck me again and again until it's spilling out of me," You whimpered, your brain melting underneath John’s weight as you felt his hands grab at your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest as he settled his weight over you. His cock pressed deeper into your core, the deepest anyone had ever been. "Sir."

Your voice was nothing more than a shrill whine, all the air punched out of your lungs at the change in position. His weight was comforting around you as he molded your cunt around his cock. You were sure you would never be the same after this, he had broken you down and rebuilt you in the same breath. 

It was like your normally stoic Captain was lost in a whirlwind of intense emotions. The older man's gaze alone spoke volumes, conveying his depth of feeling and adoration, as words failed to capture the magnitude of his affections.

He could hear the desperation in your voice, the way your lip trembled and brows pinched together as you looked up at him. Surging down to grab your jaw with his hand, he held your face still to press his lips urgently to yours, tongue demanding entrance before he pulled away, string of spit connecting your tongues. 

His grip on your throat tightened, blood rushing in your ears at the light feeling in your head. Your Captain cursed, hips stuttering against yours at the way your clenched around his cock, almost making it hard for him to pull out and press back in smoothly.

"That filthy mouth of yours, angel." The aggression only ramped up the more you dug your nails into him and begged for more. His thrusts became more harsh and quick, brutally slamming his cock into you in an almost primal, animalistic way. 

"What it does to me-" His words came out in fragmented bursts, a mixture of prayers and curses intermingled with the fervent pleas of a man pushed to the brink.

"I'm gonna keep fucking you-" His voice was a sinful warble next to your ear, his soft pants and grunts making your skin burn with arousal as he kept slowly rocking into you, moving your legs higher up to set on his shoulders for a better angle, "until you're carrying my child, fuck-"

Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. He sounded absolutely wrecked. He sounded like he was begging, like he was praying, even as he whispered crazed little promises in your ear.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, his brows furrowed whilst his mandibles unfolded and folded in an erratic manner. "So everyone in here knows who you belong to." With drool dribbling out from the corners of your bruised lip, you stared down at your tummy, almost mesmerized by the bump inflating your guts whenever your Captain's tip buried itself against your deepest parts. "Is that what you want, angel?"

With every beat of his heart, he felt an overwhelming surge of euphoria, a blissful ecstasy that consumed him entirely.

"That's all I want, sir. Please, please-" Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as you plead, spilling over onto your flushed cheeks as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation coursing through your veins.

The hand that was once on your midsection, slipped down to your now oversensitive clit. His rapid breathing mingling with your own became increasingly labored, both of your carnal needs for each other nearing the precipice. He doubled down on your sensitive nub, gaining him moans akin to pleasured screams from you.

In the presence of such authority and seduction, it was impossible to resist the intoxicating allure of his voice, his gaze, his every gesture. Captain Price was a master of persuasion and in his presence, resistance was futile.

It was a feeling of pure, unbridled euphoria, a fleeting glimpse of heaven that left you feeling simultaneously fragile and invincible.

And as you looked up at him with eyes brimming with need, you knew that you'd follow him to the ends of the earth and back, if only he'd grant you the privilege of loving you in return.