#stupid top knot and everything

[haveyoumetmythief]

In my Nandor the Relentless era

[pandapetals]

Faking It

During sex, you fake an orgasm causing Logan to spiral. Once he confronts you about it, he wants to prove he can make you feel good without faking it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - established relationship, no reader description, no y/n used, faking an orgasm, self-loathing logan, slight angst, imagined worst logan but this gives dofp!logan too, vibes, smut, feral logan, p in v sex, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie 

a/n: idea from @yxtkiwiyxt - it ate away at my brain and being on my period really caused this to be born

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan could feel everything. Every shift in your body, every flicker in your expression, every whispered contradiction between what you said and felt. He didn’t just sense when you lied—he absorbed it, like static in the air before a storm.

Now, with your body beneath his, every nerve in him was attuned to you. The heat of your skin pressed against his, the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the broken gasps you offered him—it was intoxicating. Yet it wasn’t enough. Something was off.

The faint furrow of your brow was his first clue. At first, he thought it was pleasure, that delicious kind of tension that came right before you unraveled. But then he felt the subtle stiffness in your thighs, the shallow way you breathed, and a flicker of doubt crackled through his chest. The feral part of him that craved, that demanded—urged him forward, driving him to thrust harder, deeper, desperate to coax something real out of you. He growled low in your ear, his voice rough with need.

“C’mon, pretty girl… make a mess for me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your jaw.

You whimpered, but it wasn’t the sound he was chasing. And when the moan came—high-pitched, trembling, but hollow—it hit him like a cold slap to the face. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real.

His hands tightened on your hips as frustration swirled with something darker, something that felt too close to shame. His feral side snarled inside him, demanding he keep going, demanding release, and for one selfish, fleeting moment, he gave in. He pushed through, riding the edge until he spilled into you with a broken groan, collapsing onto the bed beside you as his chest heaved.

The room felt too quiet after, too still. Your fingers trailed idly over his chest, your touch soft and featherlight, but Logan’s body felt stiff beneath your hand. He turned his head, searching your face in the dim light, and when you offered a lazy smile, it was like glass shattering in his chest.

“I make you feel good, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice low and soft, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him like it was nothing. Like the lie wasn’t still hanging heavy in the air between you.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. That tiny, fake little moan echoed in his ears, replaying like a bad song on repeat. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He’d been in your bed, in your body, but not once had he felt like he was truly with you. Not tonight.

Still, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as his thoughts churned. He held you close, feeling your breathing slow as sleep crept in, and though his arms tightened around you protectively, his mind refused to rest.

Why had you faked it? Was it him? Something he’d done—or something he hadn’t done? Did you not trust him enough to tell him? The questions coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting until frustration and hurt blurred together in a haze of anger. And yet, despite the heat crawling under his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Not now. 

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Logan didn’t let things go easily—especially not when it came to you.

But figuring out how to bring it up? That wasn’t his strong suit. For a whole day, he sat on it, the frustration gnawing at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. He replayed every moment in his head: the way your body tensed, the way your fake moan had grated against his ears, the way you had smiled afterward like nothing had happened. By the time the sun had begun to set again, the weight of it had him wound so tight it felt like a rubber band about to snap. And, unfortunately for Wade, Logan’s rubber band tended to snap loudly.

The bar was dimly lit, its usual haze of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Logan sat nursing a whiskey he’d barely touched, his mood written all over his face. Wade, of course, was oblivious—or maybe just ignoring it. He leaned on the counter beside Logan, rambling on about some escapade Logan hadn’t bothered to keep track of. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second until Wade finally poked the wrong bear.

“You’ve been pissy all day,” Wade said, squinting at Logan like he was examining a strange animal. “Let me guess, you finally found someone who doesn’t think your claws are sexy? Or—oh, wait—” Wade’s face lit up with a spark of mischief. “You’re telling me you couldn’t make your girlfriend orgasm?”

Logan stiffened.

“Oh, peanut,” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he was genuinely heartbroken. “Say it ain’t so! The big bad Wolverine, all growls and muscles, and—nothing? Nada? No fireworks?”

Logan’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. He rounded on Wade, eyes blazing, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, so maybe shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Wade blinked, and there was a beat of silence—a rare occurrence for him. But it lasted all of two seconds before his lips quirked into a grin. “Ohhhh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t worry, champ, it happens to the best of us. Well, not to me, obviously, but—”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone cut through the air like a blade. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as Logan pushed himself up from the barstool, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. Wade threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Geez, no need to go full Wolverine on me.” Wade stepped back, but not without muttering under his breath, “Touchy subject, huh?”

Logan ignored him. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the bar, his mind racing. Wade might be an idiot, but even idiots could land a hit when they weren’t aiming. The truth was, the jab had struck too close to home. He didn’t care about the idea of failure, not really—not when it came to anyone else. But with you? It felt like a crack in something he hadn’t even realized was fragile.

When Logan got back to your shared space, you were curled up on the couch, your feet tucked under you as you watched TV. The sight of you—so calm, so untouched by the storm that had been raging inside him all day—made something snap loose in his chest. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can we talk?” His voice was gruff, but quieter than you expected, almost hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Last night,” he started, his voice strained. “Somethin’ was off. I know it. You know it. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your stomach twisted, guilt pooling in your chest. “Logan, I—”

“You faked it,” he said bluntly, cutting to the heart of it. His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and the vulnerability there nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Why?”

The word hung in the air between you.

You swallowed hard, turning the TV off and shifting in your seat. “It wasn’t you,” you said quickly, wanting to get that part out first. “I mean, it wasn’t because of you. It’s… me.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “What does that mean?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve been in my head lately,” you admitted. “I’ve been… struggling. With work, with stress, with feeling like I’m enough. And I guess last night, I just—” You hesitated, looking away. “I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. So I faked it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled a low sound that was more frustration with himself than anything else. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fake anything with me. Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Logan’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to take yours. “You think that’s what this is about? I don’t care about some… performance. I care about you. And if somethin’s wrong, I wanna know. I wanna fix it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you gave a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… tell me when something’s wrong, okay?” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his voice softening again.

You managed a small smile, squeezing his hands. “Okay.” 

Logan’s lips brushed your forehead before he pulled you into his arms. His touch was warm, and grounding, but there was something beneath it—something deliberate. His hands settled on your hips like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “let me make you feel good.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “No, you’re not,” he said plainly, his tone gruff but tender. His eyes met yours, intense and unwavering, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re stressed. I can see it. I can feel it.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down your arms, calloused fingertips trailing a path that sent shivers racing across your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

And honestly? There was no denying it. The idea of Logan worshipping your body—of losing yourself in the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed—was too tempting to resist. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

“I mean…” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered as his hands slid lower, settling on the backs of your thighs. “If you insist…”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I insist,” he drawled, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach flip. Before you could process the thought, he was lifting you with ease, his strength as effortless as it was intoxicating.

The world tilted as he carried you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He laid you down with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache, his broad frame hovering over you. His lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and your breath hitched as he kissed his way down, the scrape of his stubble sending sparks skittering across your skin.

By the time his hands found the waistband of your underwear, you were already melting under his touch. He peeled them off slowly, his eyes darkening as they roamed your bare skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, his mouth hot and insistent against your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he shifted lower, and the anticipation coiled in your stomach like a live wire.

“Logan,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his smirk returning as he settled between your thighs. “Relax, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands spreading your legs with deliberate care. “Let me take my time with you.”

The first press of his mouth was soft and exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Logan was nothing if not thorough, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless. He watched your every reaction, the flicker of his eyes on you making it clear he was entirely in control—but completely devoted to you.

Your hands tangled in his hair as the tension inside you built, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers. He hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch into him, and he responded by gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally came undone, shuddering and gasping beneath him, Logan didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your body shook with aftershocks.

“Not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and before you could catch your breath, he dipped his head again, his mouth finding you with renewed purpose.

Time blurred after that, the world narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of him, the way he seemed utterly consumed by the act of worshipping every inch of you. By the time he finally let you catch your breath, your body was boneless, your mind a haze of blissful exhaustion.

Logan crawled up the bed, his lips brushing over your temple as he pulled you into his arms. His hands, still warm and steady, skimmed over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of it all.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft now, full of quiet satisfaction.

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You could say that,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Logan chuckled softly as he kissed the top of your head. His hand rested against the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Good,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction but dripping with affection. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, your body feeling boneless in the aftermath of his touch. Every nerve was still humming, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But then you felt it—a shift in the air, a change in the weight of the bed as Logan leaned forward.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see the smirk tugging at his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He hovered above you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His lips brushed over yours in a soft kiss making your heart stutter. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whimper.

“I know,” he replied, his breath warm against your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was a low growl, rough edges softened by something tender and utterly consuming. “I just want to make you feel so good.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your head sinking back into the pillows. “You did, Logan. I promise—”

He cut you off with a smirk, the curve of his lips playful and dangerous. “Okay, then,” he drawled, his tone dropping to something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you’re good, I want to hear you whimper my name.”

Before you could protest—or agree—his hand slid down your body, his touch slow and deliberate. His calloused fingertips brushed over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before they dipped lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching toward him as his hand moved closer, teasing and torturously slow. Logan’s gaze never left yours, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse race.

“Logan…” you moaned softly, his name slipping from your lips like a reflex as his fingers finally slid between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction. His touch was firm but unhurried, exploring you with a focus that made your head spin. His thumb moved in a way that had your legs trembling, and when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed them, your back arched off the mattress, a gasp spilling from your lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way you were unraveling beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. Logan was relentless, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that made your skin tingle. He alternated between soft and demanding, his touch a perfect balance of control and devotion.

“Logan,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking on the syllable as the pressure built impossibly high, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.

“There it is,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips ghosting over your ear. “That’s my girl.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and with one more perfectly placed movement of his hand, you shattered. Your body arched into him as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan didn’t stop right away—he worked you through it, his hands steady, his lips murmuring quiet praises against your skin as you rode out the high. By the time the tremors subsided, you were trembling, your body utterly spent.

He finally pulled his hand away, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its absence. Logan leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” he asked, his voice soft, his smirk replaced with something gentler as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You managed a weak nod, your body still buzzing, and Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand slid up your back, holding you close as your head rested against his chest. “Because I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“What?” Logan murmured, his smirk teasing and wicked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath was warm against your skin, and the way his lips lingered made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could reply, his hands began their slow descent, tracing the curves of your body with deliberate care. His palms were warm and rough, gliding over your hips and your thighs. Every touch felt like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

“Logan…” you started, but your words dissolved into a shaky exhale as his fingers found the sensitive spot just above your knee, kneading gently before sliding higher.

He shifted above you, his movements unhurried, his gaze dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. “You can take it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down his hips in one fluid motion. The sight of him, the sheer confidence in how he moved, made your breath catch. He tossed the pants aside without a second thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back over you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“Give me one more,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. His tone was soft but commanding, his words rolling over you like a wave, pulling you under.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was breathless, tinged with disbelief at his sheer audacity. “I thought this was supposed to be about me feeling good,” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was pounding.

Logan’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, but his eyes burned with intent. “Oh, it is,” he drawled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ll feel real good giving me what I want.”

The heat in his gaze sent a fresh rush of anticipation coursing through you, and you felt your teasing resolve falter. His fingers trailed over your skin, mapping every inch of you as if he were committing it to memory. When he shifted lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, then to the soft curve of your breast, his mouth was hot and insistent, each kiss drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You barely had time to process the way his teeth grazed over your skin, sending sparks skittering down your spine, before his hips pressed against yours, his body slotting against yours perfectly. His movements were slow at first like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you.

Then Logan whispered, husky and dripping with that dark, primal edge, “I want you to feel it everywhere, darlin’—every inch, every second. No faking this time.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity in his voice making your head spin, your body arching into him in a silent plea. Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin. His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, worshiping—making it impossible to think, let alone resist the pull of him.

As his mouth found yours, the kiss was all-consuming with the addictive mix of dominance and tenderness only Logan could manage. You clung to him, your hands sliding over the planes of his back, your nails digging in just enough to make him groan against your lips.

“You feelin’ good yet?” he teased, his voice low and rough, thick with need. His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching, a maddening taunt that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rolling through you.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself as his pace shifted. He moved deeper, his hips rolling in a way that made your back arch off the bed, a gasp tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. The deliberate rhythm he’d kept moments ago began to unravel, his movements growing more intense, more insistent.

“Logan,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, shaky and breathless.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his voice rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. His lips brushed over your jawline, leaving a trail of heat as they trailed down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When his teeth grazed your skin, a soft cry escaped you, your body tightening beneath him.

He groaned low, the sound vibrating against your neck, as your nails dug deeper into the muscles of his back. “So good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise.

Your response came in broken gasps and soft whimpers, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, but they grew harder, deeper, until your body melted into the mattress, pliant and trembling under him.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, white-hot, and electric until it felt like you might come undone. You couldn’t think, speak—could barely even hold on—your body responding to him instinctively, as though it were made just for this.

“Look at me,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling you back to him. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, to find his gaze locked on yours, burning and unrelenting. “That’s it, pretty girl. I want to see you.”

His hips pressed into you again, hitting the spot so devastating that your eyes rolled back and a broken cry escaped your lips. You clung to him, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, raw and overwhelming. His name spilled from your mouth in a whisper, soft and reverent, and it only seemed to spur him on.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice rough and frayed, his movements driving you higher and higher. “Just like that.”

When you finally broke, the world seemed to splinter apart, the sensation crashing over you in waves so intense you could hardly breathe. Your body arched into his, your thighs shaking as your release consumed you, dragging you under.

Logan slowed, his touch gentler now as you trembled in his arms. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, shoulder, and temple, breathing heavily and unevenly against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, warm and teasing as his lips ghosted over yours.

You managed a weak nod, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks, and he chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his tone low and full of quiet pride. He tucked you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you let yourself melt into his warmth, utterly spent but completely safe in his embrace.

[screampied]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ TWENTY THREE MISSED CALLS — G. SATORU

☆ sum. you had always nagged to your boyfriend satoru to answer his damn phone. it’d always go straight to voicemail—you told him in your own words, ‘toru, what if something ever happened to you?’ but this time, it was far too late.

wc. 1.7k tags. gn!reader, angst, nickname(s) 'baby, angel.'

an. idk how to write angst much but i was sad so came up w this. merry christmas :)

“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”

such a dork.

you lost count of how many times you listened to that automatic message over and over again. the playful cheekiness in his voice, you could just see his smile. the dumb dimples that poke out against both of his cheeks whenever he grinned.

a cute dork. your dork.

besides that though, it’s been at least twenty three times of you ringing him, but to no avail. each time it went straight to voicemail—sucking your teeth in confusion, you started pacing around your bedroom. it was christmas morning, and gojo promised he’d be here before you wake up.

he couldn’t be…

no, he’s gojo satoru. he always wins, right?

right..?

the more you waited, the more impatient you became. the room grew colder and colder, despite the heat being turned on. you sat on gojo’s side of the bed, inhaling his scent, as if he was here right now.

he’d always fill up the room with his loud cologne scents—you’re always telling him how it’s too strong and he always kisses your cheek, muttering, “eh really? i don’t smell it that much, baby..”

the scent was always sweet, a mixture of cinnamon and multiple other spices—you glanced at the roségold alarm clock that rested against your nightstand, the time reading six thirty am.

he still wasn’t here.

it was hard to not overthink, think the worst, gojo was always so good at calming your nerves. you’d be one to constantly overthink. his trick to stop that was to simply hold you in his arms, stroke your hair and tell you in a soft cheery voice, “hey angel, everything’s gonna be okay. i’m okay, we’re okay.”

but again, he still wasn’t here.

gojo mentioned to you before he left last night around midnight he had to ‘take care of something’ — his code word of he’s about to go into battle or fight, but he didn’t want you to worry about him.

that’s the very last thing he wanted. and if anything, he always assured you he’d be okay. even if he was beaten to a pulp by his enemies, he’d always return back home to you with that stupid lovable grin on his face.

so what made christmas day any different?

you swallowed the thick, nonexistent lump in your throat, trying to snap out of your deep melancholy thoughts. dragging your feet,

you rubbed your eyes from the sun just barely shinning through the curtains scattered throughout the house.

with a soft sigh, you made your way towards the christmas tree — the pretty lengthy tree the both of you decorated together last minute, a tiny smile went on your face at remembering how gojo kept accidentally breaking all of the ornaments, so he had to constantly keep buying new ones.

lights, glimmery multicolored lights, a plethora of ornaments and a pretty sheeny star sits at the very top. you sat on your knees, before glancing down at the various presents — one caught your eye, it was a tiny box. a velvet heart shaped box, and gojo told you it was the biggest surprise yet.

you paused, glancing down at your phone that was about it to die soon, wondering why gojo still hasn’t returned any of your calls.

he’s been gone for hours, and the knot in your stomach continued to tighten—it felt like something inside of you was squeezing, tugging you from the inside.

was this what a gut feeling feels like? something was telling you, screaming at you that something wasn’t right.

with shaky hands, you went to his contact for what seems like the millionth time, staring at the image that was his picture, him and you.

the both of you were being goofy, it was a old polaroid picture a few years ago of the both of you during your birthday.

he spoiled you so much that day, but as always he never forgot to repeat how much he loved you.

the phone rang three times and your mind pretty much knew mentally he wasn’t gonna answer, it was a bit foolish for you to continuously keep trying. but something in you told yourself, it’s satoru. he’s gonna answer. anything to reassure yourself, this happens a lot — gojo’s the type of person who always has his phone on silent, or he says he’ll call you back but ends up forgetting.

after a few rings, the same automatic voicemail plays, and just hearing his voice again, no matter how many times — it never fails to make your heart swoon.

“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”

you intake a sharp breath, closing your eyes before bringing the warm phone up to your ear, pressing it against your cheek before speaking in a voice.

a voice you hardly recognized, “…toru?” and you were on the brink of tears, it was easy to hear and you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you but at this point..

was it really worth holding on to?

fifteen long seconds passed and you forgot the phone was still in your hand.

you sniffled, gathering yourself briefly before continuing in a soft drowsy voice, “h-hey, um. i don’t mean to blow your phone up but, you aren’t responding and i’m getting kind of scared. are you okay?”

you pause again, feeling the sting of tears nearly escape through your eyelids before you squeeze your eyes shut, lightly squeezing your left thigh to prevent any more emotions from revealing themselves.

“i um, just wanna say i love you, and i hope you’re okay. i didn’t wanna open my gifts until you got here but you’re taking forever..”

and you manage to crack a tiny smile that purses against your lips—yet after a while, it fades and your heart feels like it’s just walking on egg shells. “but anyway, yeah. i love you satoru, text or call me back so i know you’re alright, please? and just get home safe okay? bye.”

you hung up the phone and a single tear ran down your cheek.

so much time had passed, and he still wasn’t here. it was nearly seven in the morning now, and your dumb curiosity got the best of you—you wondered what gojo’s big surprise gift was.

he wanted you to wait to see your reaction, but you were just so curious, so enthused.

you started to peel the pretty striped velvet wrapping paper off, one at a time, it was neatly wrapped with a perfect red and blank bow tied on the top.

once you opened it, it had a tiny black box, and your eyebrows raised, a note sticking out the side. grabbing it, you revealed it and it read in neat handwriting:

“hi baby!! merry merry christmas, i’m kinda tearing up while writing this, and i know i know you probably just wanna see the gift but first read this ‘kay? just wanna say i love love you so much, and i’m so glad we’ve been together for almost four years now. you mean everything to me, you’re so sweet and kind, always there whenever i need to talk my feelings out, or even if i just need to lay on you and fall asleep. but anywho, you know who loves you? this guy! hopefully i made you smile as you read this, im probably not at home yet but ill be back soon. don’t worry your pretty little head, alright? i love you baby, merry christmas from your honored one, xoxo.”

tears were in your eyes—and it was like you could hear him, he was right, you did manage to smile. sniffling, you placed the note aside before opening the small black box.

once you pulled the top back, your eyes widened, seeing a small coruscating ring. your heart sang, blinking twice to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

gojo was planning to propose..?

the ring was so pretty.

various scattered crushed up like pearls around the top, and once the tears started, they kept streaming down your face. you quickly pulled it out, sliding it on your ring finger and it was a perfect fit — in a frail sob, you mumble, “y-yes, i’ll marry you satoru.”

yet — that’s when you wake up, finally snapping back to reality. confused with tears still streaming down your face, burning.

“satoru?”

no answer.

you get up from the bed, your eyes widen before you look at your right hand — and the engagement ring was still there. a sigh of relief exits your mouth, and that’s when you make your way towards the kitchen.

nothing to worry about, maybe you just fell asleep while opening the gift. yeah, that had to be it.

although, the atmosphere of your house felt different. taking a quick glance in the living room, the christmas tree wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t snowing, and it was almost as if you lived by yourself.

“satoru?” you called out again, before pulling out your phone — scrolling towards your messages and your heart suddenly sank. the last message you sent him was two years ago, a subtle ‘satoru, it’s christmas and you’re still not here? are you okay?’

christmas…?

you pulled a tab down on your phone — and the date read march 17th. approximately two years later from when you last sent that message, and you were so confused.

but the further you scrolled down, you saw messages from others, sending you their regards and condolences for your loss….loss?

the recent message was from geto — and your last reply was, ‘thank you, i’m doing okay. i just still can’t believe he’s gone.”

. . .

you felt sick — tear after tear racing down both sides of your face before coming to the sudden unfathomable realization.

gojo never came back home for one reason and one reason only. he died a painful death those long two years ago, even though he swore he’d come back to you on christmas.

perhaps everything was all a lie.

sometimes people don’t win all the time, not even the honored one, the love of your life, gojo satoru.

[teamatsumu]

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

[23victoria]

𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔶

*☾⋆･ﾟ pairings: 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔯𝔠 + 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔷 x 𝔣𝔢𝔪!𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

word count:11𝓀

*☾⋆･ﾟ synopsis: paying for sex was a first, but after all, who could blame you? it had been too long, and you deserved to have a little fun too. besides, it was just a straightforward transaction—money for pleasure. what could possibly go wrong? 𝔠𝓌!☠︎ pornstar, escort, pet names, praise kink, rough sex, fingering, oral (f & m), body worship, overstimulation, size kink, belly bulge, dacryphilia, voyeurism/exhibitionism, creampie, face sitting, double penetration, threesome, wax play, blindfolded, anal play/sex, throat fucking, nipple play, begging, aftercare

authors note: i am so sorry is this is complete shit, i struggled with this so much and….yea, i hope it’s good and again i’m sorry likes, asks, and reblogs are appreciated! i hope you enjoy :)

𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱?! CLICK HERE!

*☾⋆･ﾟ f1 MASTERLIST. KINKThe TOBER MASTERLIST.

The plush carpet muffled your footsteps as you paced the length of the suite, the glass of wine in your hand barely touched. You weren’t here for the wine, after all. The cool rim of the glass pressed against your lip was a distraction, a flimsy attempt to calm the anxiety swirling in your chest. Your reflection caught in the mirror, and you almost rolled your eyes. Dressed in the black lingerie you’d splurged on for the occasion, you looked... ridiculous. Sexy, sure, but ridiculous. Who pays $6k for sex? Apparently, you do.

You snorted, shaking your head at yourself. God, what the hell am I doing here?

The reasoning had seemed airtight at the time. Two years of celibacy after that disaster with your ex—who, naturally, had managed to ruin not just your relationship but your self-esteem too. He'd cheated, and when he left, he took a piece of you with him. Trust, confidence, maybe even desire. All of it was locked away in the aftermath of his betrayal. But you were a grown woman, an adult who could make her own decisions.

I could fuck anyone I want to, right? You thought, half-defending yourself, half-mocking the idea. Right. Except I haven’t. The lingering anxiety had kept you paralyzed, unable to even flirt, let alone let someone close again. So, you made an impulsive choice, one that had you sitting in a five-star hotel, waiting for a stranger.

Not just any stranger, though. The best. That's what the website had promised, and you had researched thoroughly—more than you cared to admit. Every review, every service listed, the options detailed right down to the type of man you could request. It all felt clinical, safe. A transaction.

That’s all this is. A simple transaction. You repeated it like a mantra, hoping the words would settle the knot in your stomach.

But the number—$6,000—echoed louder in your mind. Six grand for sex. You winced, taking another slow sip of wine, trying to justify it again.

He was supposed to be the best, though. The reviews had gushed, the site had practically bragged about how this guy was the epitome of everything you could want: good-looking, professional, discreet. For what they charged, he better be.

But that didn’t stop the anxiety from clawing at your chest. What if you got too stuck in your head? What if, after all of this buildup, the wine and the lingerie and the research, you chickened out? You’d waste his time, your time, and a small fortune on top of it. $6,000. Jesus.

You laughed at the absurdity of it. Of course, I’d make a stupid decision like this.

But the laughter faded quickly, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the suite, your skin buzzing with nerves. What if this doesn’t even help? What if it makes things worse? You pushed the thoughts away, though they clung to the edges of your mind like a fog you couldn’t quite shake off.

The sound of a knock at the door yanked you from your spiraling thoughts. Your heart lurched. You hesitated for a moment before setting your wine glass on the table. With one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door.

And there he was.

For a split second, your mind went completely blank. Standing in front of you was, hands down, the hottest man you’d ever seen in person. He was just a couple of inches taller than you, with a lean but muscular build that suggested he worked out without being overly bulky. His shirt hugged his chest in all the right ways, and his dark hair was styled effortlessly. You blinked, mouth slightly open, as you tried to take him in.

“Bonsoir,” he greeted, his voice a low rumble laced with the softest French accent. “My companion should be here any moment. Sorry, he’s running late.”

You blinked again, still processing. Fuck. That accent. You were barely listening to what he was saying, too distracted by the smoothness of his voice, the way the words rolled off his tongue with an effortless charm that made your stomach flip. Lord. This man alone was worth the $6k.

But as his words finally registered in your brain, confusion crept in. Companion?

You stared at him, your mind catching up a little too slowly. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, his head tilting as if trying to read your expression. You must’ve looked confused—because you were.

Before you could voice the question on the tip of your tongue, there was another knock at the door.

You froze for a second, then watched as the man—Charles, you assumed—stepped aside to let in whoever was on the other side. And that’s when he walked in.

Another man, just as stunning as the first. His presence hit you like a wave. Taller than Charles, with broad shoulders and an air of confidence that instantly commanded attention. His smile was devilishly handsome, and his dark eyes sparkled with something teasing as he took you in. He introduced himself with a thick, sexy Spanish accent that nearly made your knees buckle.

“I’m Carlos,” he said, his voice so deep it sent a shiver down your spine.

You just stood there, mouth slightly parted, trying to process the fact that two incredibly hot men were now in your hotel room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The room was quiet, a charged sort of anticipation lingering in the air as you moved about, keeping yourself busy. Both Charles and Carlos stood patiently in front of you, but you were distinctly aware of every glance they exchanged, every slight smile they gave each other. In a weak attempt to fill the silence, you turned to the small minibar by the window, which you’d noticed was stocked with a surprising assortment of wines and liquors.

“Would you guys… like a drink?” you offered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I think there’s some champagne, maybe wine, or even whiskey if you want.”

Charles’s eyes followed your every move, and Carlos leaned back with an amused expression, both men seemingly content to just watch as you babbled on.

“And, um, I got some food, too.” You gestured to the tray of tiny sandwiches and fruit that sat on the table near the window, small bites you’d hoped might keep your nerves in check. “You know, just in case anyone’s hungry. They’re little, so they won’t ruin your appetite, but they’re actually quite good! I mean, the hotel did a great job with the whole presentation thing…”

You trailed off, catching the amused smiles that Charles and Carlos exchanged as you kept talking. Charles raised a brow, and Carlos bit back a laugh, clearly enjoying your rambling. You suddenly felt heat rise to your cheeks and stammered a little as you continued, “I just figured, you know, if we’re going to spend some time here together, it would be good to… um, settle in, I guess?”

Carlos leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched you with a look that was both patient and playful. He exchanged a knowing glance with Charles, who finally spoke, his soft accent lingering on your name in a way that made you freeze mid-sentence.

“Y/N.”

The sound of it in his French accent, low and smooth, made your heart flutter. You could feel yourself hanging on every syllable, the room somehow feeling even warmer as you turned to face him fully.

“Yes?” you murmured, breath catching in your throat.

He held your gaze, his lips curving up at the corners in a gentle smile. “Breathe, relax.” He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your arm, his fingers warm and reassuring. “What are you nervous about, baby?”

It felt like a dam broke, and before you knew it, the words were spilling out. You hesitated, took a deep breath, and finally, with a tentative glance between them, you spoke. “I… well, it’s just been a long time for me,” you admitted. “I haven’t done anything like this in a couple of years.”

They both nodded, their expressions patient and encouraging, inviting you to go on.

“I was in a relationship,” you continued, voice quieter now. “He cheated on me. It… kind of destroyed me, to be honest.” You offered a small, self-deprecating laugh. “He also had a few choice words to say about me before we ended things. Made me feel… insecure, I guess. Like maybe I wasn’t good enough.”

Charles’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening. “What a fool,” he muttered, clearly unimpressed. “He’s an idiot and a piece of shit for saying any of that to you. You deserve better, you know that, right?”

Carlos nodded in agreement, stepping closer with an intense look that softened when he met your eyes. “He didn’t deserve you, mami. But tonight? We’re making up for those two years, trust us.”

They both looked at you, waiting, not pushing, but you could feel the anticipation building between you. It was like standing on the edge of something exhilarating, and a part of you wanted to let go and trust them. You took a breath, feeling a surge of boldness. What were the odds that two men this stunning would walk into your life again?

“Okay,” you whispered, looking between them, the single word hanging in the air with an almost electric weight. They shared a look, subtle but charged, and then turned back to you.

Charles smiled. “Before we get started, there’s just one more thing. We need a safe word. If you want to stop at any point, if anything feels uncomfortable or just too much, you can say it, and we’ll stop, no questions asked.”

You thought for a moment, rolling the idea around in your head before giving a small smile. “How about… wine?”

Both men chuckled, Carlos’s deep laughter filling the room as he tilted his head. “That’s cute, mami. Okay, ‘wine’ it is. And we’ll use a few more, too—just to make sure you’re always comfortable. Say ‘green’ if you want us to keep going or go a little faster, ‘yellow’ if you want us to slow down, and, of course, ‘red’ if you need us to stop. Sound good?”

You nodded, the nervous flutter in your stomach finally beginning to settle. Carlos smiled warmly, eyes meeting yours. “I need verbal confirmation, mami,” he said, his tone gentle yet firm.

“Yes,” you replied softly. “That sounds good.”

They exchanged another look, a shared understanding passing between them, and then Charles turned to you, his gaze soft but filled with a quiet intensity. He moved closer, settling on the edge of the bed beside you, and lifted a hand to gently stroke a strand of hair away from your face.

“Okay, baby,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “Let’s start.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you lay back against the silken sheets, your heart raced, caught between excitement and nerves. Charles was so close, his presence enveloping you as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your neck. The sensation sent shivers cascading down your spine, igniting every nerve in your body and causing you to arch instinctively toward him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice deep and sultry, a velvet caress against your skin. Each kiss he placed along your collarbone was tender yet deliberate, a promise that made you melt into the bedding, your body responding to him without reservation.

His mouth traveled down, kissing a path that made you gasp softly, your breath hitching as he lingered at your chest. The warmth of his body hovered over you, and as he pressed his lips against the soft curves of your body, it felt as though the world outside faded away completely. 

“Let me take care of you,” he breathed, his voice low and commanding as he settled between your thighs, looking up at you with an intensity that made your heart race. The anticipation hung in the air, heavy and sweet, as he moved closer.

“Charles…” you whispered, almost pleadingly.

“Trust me,” he replied, and with that, he pulled down your lacy black underwear pressing his finger on your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your veins. The sensation was overwhelming, and you gasped as his fingers slowly entered you, moving in and out slowly. He coaxed you into the rhythm as he curled his finger expertly, finding that spot deep inside you that made you gasp even louder.

“See? There you go,” he praised, his voice smooth and honeyed. “So perfect. So responsive for me baby, hmm.” Each word seemed to seep into your skin, igniting something within you. The room felt alive with the sounds of your breathy moans and the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you.

Charles watched you intently, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he added another finger, stretching you deliciously. “So beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto yours as he focused solely on you. “You taste so delicious.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, feeling the heat pool lower in your abdomen as he licked his fingers clean, savoring every drop. The sight of him enjoying you so thoroughly sent another wave of heat through you, your heart racing faster than ever.

“Don’t hold back,” he urged, a low growl escaping his lips as he maintained that intoxicating rhythm. “Let me hear those pretty sounds.”

You could feel yourself spiraling, the pressure building as he curled his fingers deeper, drawing out moans from you. “I… I can’t…” you managed to whimper, the words barely escaping your lips as you trembled beneath him.

“Shh, just let go,” he encouraged, his voice dripping with a mixture of authority and tenderness. “You can do it. I’m right here.”

His confidence flooded through you, and with every thrust of his fingers, the world outside the hotel room faded away completely. You surrendered to the sensations, feeling the tension in your body reaching an unbearable peak. Your vision blurred, and you could feel the heat pooling inside you, ready to explode.

“Charles,” you gasped, feeling the waves of ecstasy start to crash over you. “I’m—”

“Yes, baby, let it happen,” he coaxed, his eyes dark and fierce as he continued his relentless pace. “You’re doing so well.”

With a final curl of his fingers, you came, the pressure bursting as pleasure washed over you in a tidal wave. Your body tensed, trembling beneath him as moans spilled from your lips, each sound wrapping around the dim room like a spell. Charles watched you with an intensity that made your heart race, his fingers never faltering as he helped you ride out the high.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You floated down from the heights of bliss, feeling both blissfully vulnerable and utterly adored.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the taste of you lingering between you. As he pulled back slightly, a playful smirk danced on his lips. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

The intimacy of the moment left you breathless, a lingering warmth settling in your chest. You smiled back at him, your cheeks still flushed from pleasure and the glow of the dim light, feeling both exposed and cherished.

But before you could catch your breath, another wave of desire crashed over you, and you felt yourself yearning for more. Charles shifted closer again, his lips brushing against your neck, igniting the fire that still simmered within you. “You’re not done yet, are you?” he teased softly, his breath warm against your skin.

You shook your head slightly, the thought of indulging in this moment with him—and with Carlos, who you knew was still there, waiting, watching, heightening the anticipation—sent a thrill through you. “Let’s see how far we can take this,” he murmured, a wicked glint in his eye as he kissed along your jaw, his lips trailing down your throat.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Carlos broke the tension, his voice low and sultry. “My turn now, mami. Let me taste how sweet you are.”

Before you could fully process his words, Carlos was there, his mouth on yours, and it sent a jolt of electricity straight through your body. His lips were warm and inviting as they enveloped you, and the sensation was overwhelming. You gasped, when he pulled away, kissing his way down your body until he’s between your thighs, your hands instinctively finding their way into his hair, gripping tightly as he teased you.

His tongue flicked expertly against your clit, sucking and biting, driving you wild. Each swirl of his tongue sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through you, building on the lingering sensations from Charles. “Oh, fuck Carlos…” you moaned, your back arching slightly, the pleasure making your heart race.

“Fuck, baby, that’s hot,” Charles muttered, his eyes dark with desire as he watched Carlos work his magic. The sight of your pleasure fueled him, and you could feel the heat radiating off both men, the intensity of the moment heightening every sensation.

Carlos wasn’t holding back; he was relentless, his mouth moving skillfully as he worked your clit, driving you further into ecstasy. And when his tongue plunged in and out of your warmth, every movement made you whimper, the sound escaping you before you could catch it.

“God, yes…” you breathed, your hips instinctively rolling against his mouth, seeking more, needing more. The world around you blurred, and it was just you and the exquisite sensations you were feeling.

“Ride my face, mami,” he groaned against you, the vibration of his voice sending an additional thrill through your body. You obliged, moving to sit on his face, your hands on the headboard as you instinctively moved to grind against him, the pleasure building higher and higher.

“Ohh, fuck,” you yelped, feeling the tight coil in your abdomen beginning to unravel. The waves of pleasure crashed over you, and you felt your body respond, shaking under the intensity as you approached the precipice of your next orgasm.

Carlos continued his relentless assault, slipping three fingers inside you, and you moaned loudly at the feeling, pulling his hair tight, urging him on. “Yes! Just like that,” you gasped, the combination of his fingers and mouth driving you wild. “P-please don’t stop!”

And he didn’t, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. As he inserted a fourth finger, the sensation was overwhelming. You felt yourself teetering on the brink, ready to plunge into that sweet abyss of pleasure.

“Carlos! I’m gonna—” you gasped, feeling your body tensing, the waves crashing around you.

“Let go, mami. I got you,” he encouraged, his voice deep and sultry as he lapped at you hungrily. At those words, your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and shaking, your body writhing under him.

Carlos didn’t stop; he continued to eat you out through the waves of your orgasm, each thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue sending aftershocks through your body. “Oh my God, Carlos!” you cried, feeling the intensity of it all consume you.

“Fuck mami, you taste so good,” he murmured against your sensitive skin as he licked you clean, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and lust. “I could stay in between these sexy thighs of yours all day.”

Completely breathless, your body a trembling mess of pleasure, as you basked in the aftermath of everything. Carlos finally pulled away, leaving you dazed and reeling from the intensity of what just happened. Your legs felt like jelly, and you were sure you’d lost all sense of reality for a moment.

Charles chuckled softly, clearly entertained as he watched you come down from your high. “I’d say that’s a successful start,” he teased, his voice filled with satisfaction.

You managed a breathy laugh, your heart racing as you looked between the two of them. “You two… wow.”

Carlos grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Just wait until you see what else we can do, mami.”

Charles leaned closer, a playful spark in his gaze. “What do you think, baby? Are you ready for more?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I think I’m ready,” you said softly, your voice steady and filled with determination.

Charles’s eyes lit up, and Carlos’s smirk widened. “Good,” Charles replied, his tone sultry. “Because we’re just getting started.”

“Close your eyes, mami,” Carlos said, his voice a deep, seductive whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You hesitated, a flicker of doubt creeping in. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Do you trust us?” His tone was confident, teasing yet soothing, coaxing you into submission.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you like a warm blanket. This was all new territory, a blend of exhilaration and trepidation. “Yes,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You closed your eyes, surrendering to whatever they had in store for you.

You heard a soft sound, like fabric ripping, and your heart raced as you felt something cool and smooth wrap around your eyes. The realization hit you: they had blindfolded you. The world around you shifted into a haze, every sound amplified, every sensation heightened. You could feel the heat radiating from both men as they surrounded you, their presence both comforting and electrifying.

“Just relax, mami,” Carlos murmured, and you felt him lay down beside you. His lips found your skin, kissing up along your breasts, his mouth moving with deliberate care as he bit and licked, teasing you into a frenzy.

A soft moan escaped your lips, involuntarily. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and delicious anticipation, your body arching towards him, craving more.

As his mouth worked its magic, you felt another warmth against your thighs, a slow, deliberate caress. “You’re so sexy, baby,” the voice said, and you realized it was Charles. His breath was hot against your skin, teasingly close but never quite touching.

Your heart raced, the anticipation leaving you trembling. They were both here, right next to you, guiding you into a world where your senses reigned supreme. You felt someone’s hands travel up your thighs, moving closer to your core, teasing you. “You like that?” Charles asked, his voice deep and low, sending another shiver down your spine.

“Y-yes…” you gasped, biting your lip as the sensations heightened. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and charged with unspoken promises.

“Let’s make this even more fun, shall we?” Carlos said, his voice low and seductive.

Suddenly, you felt warm wax drip onto your stomach, and the sensation made you gasp, your body instinctively reacting to the heat. “What are you doing?” you managed to stutter, a mixture of excitement and fear flooding through you.

“Just trust us, mami,” Carlos cooed. “You’ll love it.”

As he leaned down to kiss the area right next to the wax, the contrast between the heat of the wax and the coolness of his mouth was intoxicating. He pressed gentle kisses along your skin, creating a delicious tension that left you breathless.

The moment felt electric. With every kiss and caress, you surrendered a little more, letting them guide you deeper into this world of pleasure. Carlos’s fingers lightly traced your clit, teasing you, while Charles’s kisses grew more passionate, sloppy and eager on your mouth.

Suddenly, you felt Carlos’s fingers slip lower, just brushing against your asshole. A sharp gasp escaped you as he continued to tease you, working you into a frenzy. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he praised, his tone dripping with lust. “Just let go and enjoy.”

The tension built inside you, a knot of anticipation tightening with every flick of his fingers. You could feel your body responding instinctively, the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Carlos…” you moaned, your heart racing as he continued to tease you.

Then, with deliberate slowness, Carlos pressed his finger inside you stretching you and making you squirm. “Shhh,” he soothed, as you felt the slight burn of being filled. “Just relax, mami. It’ll feel good, I promise.”

You could hardly process the pleasure coursing through you as he added a second finger, moving in and out, stretching you just right. “Oh, fuck!” you gasped, your body arching into him as the sensation intensified.

“That’s it,” Carlos murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “So good for me, mami.”

Charles, ever watchful, leaned closer, kissing you more deeply, coaxing your tongue to dance with his. You melted into the kiss, feeling utterly consumed by them both. The combination of their touches was intoxicating, and you surrendered completely, losing yourself in the pleasure.

“Three fingers now,” Carlos warned, and your breath hitched in anticipation. He pushed a third finger inside you, and your body quivered, an involuntary moan escaping you as the sensation hit you like a bolt of lightning. The stretch was exquisite, a heady mix of pleasure and slight discomfort that made your heart race even faster.

“That’s it, mami,” Carlos coaxed, his fingers curling just right inside you. “You’re taking it so well.”

Charles pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, his expression a mix of admiration and lust. “You’re incredible,” he said, breathless.

The combination of their praises and the sensations swirling around you was almost too much. You felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, ready to plunge into that sweet release. “I’m—” you began, but Carlos cut you off.

“Not yet, baby,” he said, his tone firm yet playful. “I want you to feel every second.”

And with that, he began to move his fingers in a rhythmic, deliberate motion, curling and pressing against your most sensitive spot, coaxing you closer and closer to that edge. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your body betraying you as you let yourself slip into the abyss of pleasure. “Please, Carlos… I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Good,” he replied with a smirk, clearly enjoying the control he had over you. “That’s exactly where I want you.”

Charles leaned in closer again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, deepening the sensation and pulling you even further into the haze. You felt your body quivering, the heat coiling tightly in your belly as Carlos continued his movements, the rhythm building higher and higher.

With a final thrust of Carlos’s fingers, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, intense and consuming. You cried out, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, leaving you breathless.

“Fuck, yes,” Carlos said, his fingers continuing to work you through your release, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you. You could feel his excitement radiating, and your heart raced with the intensity of it all.

“Perfect, mami,” he murmured, kissing your thighs softly as you came down from the high.

You lay there, utterly spent, but also electrified. Charles and Carlos exchanged knowing glances, clearly pleased with how you had responded.

“Are you okay, mami?” Carlos asked, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“Yeah,” you breathed, trying to catch your breath. 

"That’s good baby. Are you ready?" Charles murmurs, his accent wrapping around each word. You nod, and he gives a small, reassuring smile, waiting for your permission as he begins slowly pushing himself into you, the sudden stretch making your back arch off the bed as you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

He’s patient, attentive, and entirely focused on you, each movement deliberate and giving you the time to adjust to his size. The slow, steady rhythm of his thrusts pulls you in, allowing you to relax into the experience. Feeling bolder, you breathe out, “More.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly as if surprised, but a spark lights his gaze. “What was that, baby?” he teases softly, his voice playful, inviting.

“Faster, please,” you manage, giving in to the sensation. His grin widens, satisfied. And as he begins to deepen his thrusts as he moves faster. 

Charles’s pace was relentless, every thrust deeper and harder than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches, your fingers gripping the sheets as your body moves with his. His hands grip your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him as he pounds into you, the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the breathless gasps escaping your lips.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” Charles groans. His pace doesn’t slow, his body moving with precision and force. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension winding tighter with every thrust until it feels like you’re going to break.

“Damn, mami. You look so pretty like that,” he murmurs, his gaze smoldering. “Look at that face, those lips… I love those lips,” he says, leaning closer until he’s right by your head. “So beautiful. Open up that sweet mouth for me, please.”

Your eyes meet his, filled with desire, and you nod, parting your lips invitingly.

parting your lips as Carlos slides his cock into your mouth, his grip firm but gentle on your throat as he begins to fuck it. The sensation of being filled from both ends sends your mind spiraling, the overwhelming pressure making it impossible to think of anything but the pleasure consuming you.

Charles’s pace quickens, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to fuck you relentlessly. Your moans are muffled around Carlos’s cock, but you can feel the vibrations from your sounds as they travel through your throat. The weight of it all—the fullness, the pleasure, the intensity—has you clawing at Charles’s thighs, trying to ground yourself, but it’s futile.

“So sexy,” Carlos praises, his voice rough as he thrusts into your mouth, his grip on your neck keeping you in place. “Doing so good mami… taking both of us like this.”

The praise only spurs you on, even as your body threatens to give in to the intensity of it all. Your mind is foggy, lost in the pleasure as Charles hits that spot inside you that has your toes curling, a rush of heat surging through your core. The tension in your body snaps, and before you know it, you’re coming hard around his dick, your thighs tightening around him as waves of pleasure crash through you.

Charles doesn’t slow down. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, each thrust pulling more pleasure out of you until you’re trembling, your body a mess of overstimulation. Carlos’s hand moves to pull your hair, holding you steady as his cock moves deeper into your throat. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the overstimulation but the heat between the three of you only intensifies.

Your body shakes with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but Charle’s fast pace pushes you toward the edge again. His grip tightens on your hips, as he moves faster before he pulls out realising on your stomach.  

Carlos’s thrusts grow erratic, and with one final one, he comes down your throat, his groans mixing with Charles’s. You swallow easily, the warmth of him filling your mouth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm when you hear Charles's low voice. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his tone sultry and full of admiration. “But I think it’s time for us to give you a taste of something truly unforgettable.”

Carlos looks at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You ready for that, mami? We’re going to take care of you.” His confidence radiates, and you feel that familiar flutter of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation.

“W-What do you mean?” you ask, your breath still shaky from the pleasure they’ve already given you.

“We want to show you just how good it can be when you let go completely,” Charles explains, moving closer, his body brushing against yours, making you acutely aware of every part of him. “You’re going to feel incredible, I promise.”

“You can handle us,” Carlos says, and your heart races. 

“Okay,” you reply softly, feeling a surge of warmth at their reassurance. 

“Good girl,” Charles praises again, his voice rich with affection. You hear the sound of movement, and you can only guess at what they’re doing. Then, you feel the bed shift as both of them position themselves closer to you.

“Now, let’s have some fun,” Carlos murmurs. You feel his warm hands on your thighs, gently pushing them apart, and your pulse quickens as anticipation builds.

“Are you ready for us, baby?” Charles asks, his voice husky and low. You nod, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the heat radiating from both of them.

“Remember, you can say the safe word at any time,” Carlos reminds you. “Just relax and let us take control.”

“Okay,” you whisper, feeling both excitement and a hint of nerves. “I’m ready.”

You feel one of them—Charles, you think—kissing along your thighs, slowly moving closer to your center, while Carlos positions himself at your ass. You can feel the heat from his body, the weight of him above you, and it makes your heart race even faster.

“Don’t worry, mami,” Carlos says, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. “I’ve got you.” You can taste the sweetness of his breath, and it ignites something primal within you.

As Charles starts kissing your folds, you gasp, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your body. “So responsive,” he praises, his voice muffled against you. “I can feel how much you want this.”

You arch your back instinctively, craving more of the delicious sensation. “Charles!” you moan, the name slipping from your lips as he devours you, his tongue flicking expertly over your sensitive clit.

“More, baby?” he asks, teasingly slow. You can hear the smile in his voice, the confidence that makes you feel safe.

“Yes. Please!” you gasp, urging him on.

Just then, you feel Carlos’s mouth on yours, his kiss deepening as he leans in closer. Charles, the pressure inside you builds again, and you feel your body responding instinctively. Carlos pulls away just enough to let you catch your breath. “I want you to look at me while we do this,” he says, his dark eyes locking onto yours, filled with a heat that makes your skin tingle.

You nod, focusing on him, even as you feel Charles continuing to work his magic below. The two of them are a perfect harmony of pleasure, each taking you higher as they share their attention. Then you feel it, the burning stretch as Carlos’s dick enters your ass. You can’t help but moan “Oh fuck!” at the sensation, feeling him fill you up so deeply in parts that never been touched before. The world outside fades away, leaving just the three of you, locked in a moment of raw ecstasy.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Carlos urges softly, watching you intently as he thrusts in and out of you slowly, his fingers griping your ass, as he works to increase the pace.

“Can you feel how good that is?” Charles asks, looking up at you, his dark eyes filled with mischief and desire. “I want to see you come again. Show me how much you want it.”

“Oh fuck! Too much!!” you cry, feeling another wave of pleasure crash over you. The combination of his movements, the way Carlos is fucking you, it all blends into a perfect storm of sensation that’s utterly overwhelming.

“Yeah, just like that, baby. I love those sounds,” he says, his voice sultry and encouraging, and you can hear the excitement in his tone.

“More, please,” you beg, your body writhing against the sheets as you surrender to the pleasure.

Charles moves to lay in front of you, his hands moving your leg to lay over his waist as you feel his dick enter your pussy. Not expecting that, you yelp. “Charles!” The initial thrusts are slow, giving you a moment to adjust, but the sensation is still overwhelming. You feel every inch of them as they slide in and out of you, each movement perfectly synchronized. It’s too much, too intense, and yet you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips.

As their pace quickens, your body gives in to the pleasure, the overwhelming fullness pushing you toward another climax. You try to hold on, but the sensation is too much. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, your voice barely holding together as they both pound into you. “It’s too much… I can’t…”

 “You’re such a good girl for us,” Carlos praises, his pace relentless as he pounds your ass.

“Come for us, mami,” Carlos urges, his voice deep and throaty. “We want to feel you around our cocks.”

You can’t hold back any longer; the sensations are too intense, too beautiful to resist. “Oh, oh fuck” you cry, your body arching as pleasure overwhelms you, a wave crashing over you that leaves you gasping for breath.

They don't stop, their pace quickens, thrusting in and out of you even faster, fucking you through your orgasm, driving you further into ecstasy. “That’s it, baby. So beautiful,” he praises, his voice filled with desire. 

As you ride the waves of your release, you feel Carlos leaning in, kissing you softly, his lips warm and inviting. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, adding to the delicious tension.

“Can you handle more?” Charles asks, a wicked smile on his lips as he watches you with dark, hungry eyes.

You nod, feeling that familiar heat igniting again. “Yes, I want more,” you breathe, craving both of them in ways you never knew possible.

“Alright, let’s give you what you want,” Carlos grins, moving to position himself behind you while Charles remains at your front, his dick still buried inside you.

You can feel Carlos adjusting himself behind you, the anticipation making your heart race. “Are you ready, mami?” he asks, his voice a deep growl that sends shivers down your spine.

Yes,” you whisper, your body aching for their touch.

“Good,” he replies, and then you feel him moving closer, pressing against you, the weight of him enveloping you. “Just relax for me, okay? We’ll take care of you.”

With that, he gently slides into you against Charles's cock, filling and stretching you in a way that you've never experienced before, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through your body. “Oh my God!” you scream, the sensation overwhelming as both of them stretch you beyond your limits. 

“Just breathe, mami,” Carlos whispers, his voice soothing yet filled with desire. “We’re going to make you feel so good.”

Charles leans in, capturing your lips with his, the kiss deepening as you feel Carlos thrusting behind you, his movements slow and deliberate, each thrust pushing you further into bliss.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Charles praises, his voice low and sultry against your lips. “Just let go and feel everything.”

You’re too full, your body overstimulated, your mind unable to process the sheer intensity of both of them stretching you. Pounding into you at the same time, the feeling is indescribable, leaving you on the edge of tears as your body adjusts to the fullness. Every inch of you feels like it’s on fire, and yet, you crave more.

You nod, surrendering to the sensations as they both take you higher, your body responding instinctively to their every touch. Carlos grunts, quickening his pace behind you while Charles continues his relentless pace too as he kisses you deeply, every brush of his lips igniting sparks within you. 

With each thrust, you can feel the pressure building again, your body teetering on the edge. “I’m so close!” you cry. As their pace quickens, your body gives in to the pleasure, the overwhelming fullness pushing you toward another climax, the sensation is too much. The pressure builds again, stronger this time as their movements become more urgent. Both of them drilling in and out of you leaving you in a blissful fucked state. 

“Come for us, baby,” Charles urges, his voice a low whisper filled with desire. “We want to see you fall apart.”

With a final thrust from them both, the wave crashes over you, and you scream out in ecstasy, your body shaking as pleasure washes over you completely.

“That’s it, mami! So sexy, fuck!” Carlos praises, thrusting into you as you ride out your orgasm, the world fading into a haze of bliss.

Charles looks at you with that wicked smile. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, and you feel your heart swell with warmth and desire.

As you come down from your high, you realize that you’ve never felt more alive than in this moment with them.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the aftershocks of your intense release begin to fade, you nestle comfortably between Charles and Carlos, feeling a comforting warmth envelop you. The dim lighting of the hotel room casts a soft glow, highlighting the contours of their bodies as they lean in close, their breaths mingling in the sultry air.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Charles asks, his voice low and filled with genuine concern. He studies your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. There’s something tender in his gaze, making your heart flutter unexpectedly.

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. “I’m more than okay,” you reply, a smile breaking across your face. “That was... amazing.”

Carlos chuckles, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please, mami.” He shifts slightly, pulling you closer to him, and you can’t help but revel in the sensation of being sandwiched between two incredibly attractive men.

As Charles gets up to get the warm cloth, Carlos remains beside you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your thigh. “You’re still shaking still,” he observes, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Honestly, I’ve never felt anything like that before,” you admit, your cheeks flushing at the memory of the pleasure you just experienced. “It was overwhelming.”

Carlos nods, his expression softening. “That’s completely normal, mami. Just take your time. You did an amazing job.” His voice is warm and reassuring, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Charles returns with the cloth, a bottle of water, and some snacks, pouring a glass for each of you. “You were perfect, baby,” he says, laying back down next to you, a satisfied smile on his face.

You snuggle between them, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection as their presence envelops you.

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[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon's body matures into its prime. There's only one mate he wants. #GhostPriceWeek.

Day One: Confession/Kneel.

cw: omegaverse, penetrative sex, dubcon by nature of Price's sex negative attitude, gentle sex, bonding. ( @gomzdrawfr )

Simon wasn't sure what had changed or why, but he knew he was looking at Price differently these days and he couldn't ignore it for much fuckin’ longer. It was driving him even more insane than he already was.

Price had been helping him–them, all of ‘em–through ruts for the last few years. When it had just been the two of them, Simon would spend the few days leave in Price's Hereford flat exhausting himself between Price's legs and then they would return to normal once the cycle had passed. It had been hard at first, trusting someone, but like in everything, Price had his back. He had only ever treated Simon with dignity and respect.

When the other two joined, Simon didn't bat an eyelid. It made sense. Price was logical like that; easier for them to fuck him and get it over with in a few days, than long it out over a week and risk them snooping around the local villages, potentially ending up with a pup brewing and an angry farmer at the barrack gates with a shotgun. Johnny had priors with it too. Simon had seen the indiscretions on his record, and Gaz was so painfully good-looking that Simon wouldn't be surprised if there were already a few Garrick pups knocking about North London. 

The arrangement bloody worked. Everyone seemed satisfied. So why had Simon started… yearning?

The word had appeared when he'd googled his symptoms one day in a coffee shop. He'd headed off base to do it because all the search histories passed over Price's desk at some point, with questionable or worrying shit highlighted by the IT team for review, and he really didn't need that conversation. “Why are your guts aching, Simon? Do you need medical?” Price would ask, that stern line between his brows, lips pressed down in a deep frown. 

No, sir, my intestines seem to twist themselves in knots every time I see you shirtless at the moment and I can't stop thinkin' about how much I want to shove my tongue down yer throat, now about that requisition form… 

But it wouldn't be like that. Simon would stand there in dumb silence trying to find the words to explain that being around Price at the moment made him ache in ways he had never experienced before. That when he was alone in his own flat a short bus ride away from base, he thought of their time together with a hand around his knot and his knuckles between his teeth. He thought about how good the indomitable John Price would look in the throes of heat, completely vulnerable.

He must have been acting differently, because Price had become more distant. Detached, almost. He was shorter, sharper, than Simon had ever known him to be, even when his temper occasionally flared in the face of red tape and stupidity. Simon needed to get this, whatever this was, under control.

Sitting in that café with his black coffee and Bakewell tart, Simon had learned that an alpha of his age was reaching full maturity and his body was ready to find a permanent mate. By mid-thirties, an alpha’s strength and esteem within a pack was fully established, or it would be if the world still worked like it did a few thousand years ago. If they were still in loincloths, Simon would have battered his fair share of pack alphas and worked his way to the top by now. An omega would select him as worthy and choose him to father their pups. His body was just doing what it had done throughout millennia. Preparing.

In all honesty, his sex ed’ had been woefully lacking. Partly because the mixed comprehensive he had attended had been in special measures and the PSHE lessons had been all out brawls at some points, but also because his attendance had dropped below fifty percent fairly regularly throughout his compulsory education. ‘Very intelligent and capable, but limited by his frequent absences,’ had been his school report a few months before he had scraped just enough GCSEs to fall into a trade apprenticeship, and then September eleventh had happened and his whole world outlook had changed.

The guidance on the website also told him that his scent would change. That he might experience more attention from fertile omegas, and notice their scents more, their bodies. There was a paragraph about consent that followed and Simon had winced at the implications of needing it. He had met enough knotheads in his time even outside his own deranged father, fuckin’ Roba, to know why it was there. While most omegas were dominant and fierce by nature, the modern world had flipped things. Sometimes it just wasn't that straight forward.

The notes said it would pass. By late forties, his hormones would ebb away to normal levels again and by then he'd either be mated or, in his case, probably dead. The odds weren’t exactly in his bloody favour with his current choice of career. They also said his attention would probably flit between options, from omega to omega, as his body sought to spread its genetics as far as possible.

Except it fucking didn't, did it?

There were other omegas on base. A gorgeous blonde in logistics with tits and arse for days, a strapping redheaded mechanic with strong thighs and a pretty smile, then there was the brunette in medical. But those are cursory observations. Simon saw them as attractive in the detached manner you looked at someone who was attractive in the traditional sense. Yeah, he could see it, but he didn't want it.

He wanted Price. His fockin’ captain.

Tart and coffee finished, Simon had headed back to base. He tried to exhaust himself in the gym, finished some paperwork, and eventually wandered to the mess hall for some dinner. It was just as he was tucking into a pile of mashed potatoes and gravy that his phone pinged. 

CJP: My office.

Simon chucked his tray onto the trolley and headed out. By the time he was knocking on Price's door, his heart was beating hard in anticipation. Of fuckin’ what, he had no idea. Clearly needed to watch less porn because the image his mind provided of Price spread out on his desk, presenting, was bloody unhelpful.

“Simon.” Price acknowledged him with a glance as he shut the door behind him. The room was warm, the old radiator beneath the window chucking out more heat than was strictly necessary this early in October. The lights were dim too, the brightness on Price's monitor turned down lower, and there was a subtle, sweet scent beneath the must of paper, furniture polish and old wallpaper that usually hung in the air. 

The primal part of Simon recognised it for what it was, and the rest of him caught up as he got a good look at Price; his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes bright. Pre-heat. Price was getting more sensitive to everything; light, the cold. The smell in here had to be bloody awful to his sensitive nose. Simon blinked slowly, taking a deep breath through the fabric of the mask just to taste more of that glorious promise. If he could lick it out of the air, he would.

“We've got a problem,” Price murmured, slumping back in his chair, his fingers wounded together over his belly.

Simon didn't need to ask. He knew. “S’not a problem, sir. I can keep it under control.”

Price looked down, his face twisting in a brief grimace as he considered the edge of his desk. “S’not just you, Simon. It's me as well.”

Simon blinked, shifting his weight. “Wot?”

“Yer think I can't smell ya? When ya left the gym few hours ago I was meetin’ with Saunders about some performance data. Could smell ya from the otherside of the corridor.”

“Weren’t that fockin’ bad…”

“T’ normal man, no.”

There was an edge in Price's voice. Simon knew his secondary sex was a sore spot. If Price could have chosen, he would have been born an alpha. He despised everything about what he viewed as his ‘condition’. No one else knew, of course. The captain played his personal life close to his chest. Most of the time people assumed he was an alpha and didn’t look any closer. He was six foot two, built like a soldier should be; there was no reason to assume otherwise.

Perfect in every way, Simon's mind offered unhelpfully. Followed by an intrusive thought about how strong and intelligent their pups would be. Fuckin’ ‘ell.

“Was’the plan?”

Because there was always a plan and Simon would follow Price into hellfire if he asked. 

“Thought about sending you away, reassigning you,” Price said, his gaze flicking up to level Simon with a pensive look. “Bu’ I couldn't. Need ya. 141 needs ya.” 

Simon realised he could breathe again. The mere idea that Price would send him away - to fuckin’ where? No reasonable officer would take him on - left him frozen, every muscle seizing like he'd been turned to stone. Need ya.

Not just the 141. But Price. Price needed him.

“Then wot? Wot we doin’ ‘ere?” Simon’s voice crackled, the words cloying in his throat.

That grimace was back. A pinched look of regret pulled Price’s lips back, his eyes squinting. He scrubbed a hand over his beard and breathed in a deep breath through his nose. “Gonna ask ya sommin’. Ya can say no. S’your right t’ say no. Ya’understand?”

Simon’s fingers clenched into his palms, and he dipped his chin in a barely perceptible nod. 

“This… whatever it is. Could put ‘em danger, Johnny, Gaz, any soldier we have with us. It's foggin’ our minds, distractin’ us. I can't afford that in the field,” Price spoke slowly, like he was trying to reason with himself as well as Simon. “Way I see it is we need t’ nip it in the bud. Best way to do that is give it what it needs. A bond.”

An errant gust of wind could have knocked Simon to the floor at that moment. Like a giant rotten oak tree barely clinging on in the soil. His mouth went dry, huffing in another deep lungful of Price's scent as his heart accelerated in his chest. 

“I know ‘m askin’ a lot of ya. More an’ I ever have. But what we do, the greater good we fight for, s’too important t’--”

“Yeah.”

“Wot?”

“Yeah, I'll do it. I wan’ it. Wan’ you.” The confession tripped out of Simon's mouth before he could stop it. He stepped up to the desk, his hands planting on the surface, which, in hindsight, had probably been a poor choice. He watched Price tense in his chair briefly, before he slowly rose to his feet, weathered palms planting opposite Simon's to level him with a stern look.

“That's the hormones talkin’. Ya need t’ think it through.”

“Naw, I don’t,” Simon said, studying the freckles on Price's face, the sun damage on his forehead, the wrinkles around bright blue eyes, strong jaw framed by his uneven beard. A face he linked with safety and certainty and leadership. “S'you, s’always been you.”

Price dropped his eyes away, his head hanging for a moment, the sigh that followed sounded dog tired. When he looked up, those blue eyes had hardened, the light dulled.. “Simon, ya committin’ to a bond. S’for life. And ya not gettin’ a sweet thing that’ll fawn over ya. I'm not gonna give ya a pup, no family of yer own, ‘m not gonna kneel for ya, not gonna walk barefoot round yer kitchen, do ya laundry. ‘m not some pretty arm piece, Simon. Few years of lookin’, ya might find yerself a proper mate.”

“Don't care ‘bout any of that. Never have.” 

“Because ya never gave yerself a chance,” Price growled, rubbing at his face again. “Take a day. Think about it. Fer…” he swallowed, “...fer me, if not for yerself.”

Simon could smell something new. It was bitter on the back of his tongue. Distress. He lifted one of his hands without thinking, reaching for Price's face, but the captain flinched back. It was an involuntary response and Simon hated himself for causing it. “Sorry,” he grunted, fingers curling into his palm. 

“S’fine, jus’...” Price stood up straight, adjusting his t-shirt, thumbs hooking in his belt. Recovering himself, “...go, fink it over, don't give me an answer ‘til tomorrow after work.” 

“Right.” Simon stepped back from the desk even though every instinct was screaming at him to protect Price from whatever was causing that smell. There was no immediate threat so he couldn't even fight something; his entire skill set rendered useless in the face of whatever battle was going on inside Price's head. “See you for mornin’ briefing, sir.”

Price nodded. Simon left.

He didn't sleep that night. He stared up into the gloomy grey above his bed, wholly fixated on the parting image of Price, his face pinched, his scent riddled with distress and misery. He didn't want this, did he? Didn't want Simon like Simon wanted him. But what was new? Simon was perpetually unwanted. It was the story of his life. 

This was the right thing though. For the 141 and, Simon knew, for him. A mate like Price was more than he could have ever aspired to in normal circumstances. He had resigned himself to dying unbonded, to never experiencing what it felt like to be one with another person, to hear their voice and feel peace, to smell their scent and feel joy, to taste their skin, hold them, and feel whole. 

He had given himself to Price in all but bond anyway. This was a natural next step, even if Price himself seemed conflicted. It was an imperfect solution, riddled with grey, the cracks in the facade papered over, but that was them through and through.

The following day went by slower than a slug crawling across a salt flat. Price was nowhere to be found, sequestered away in his office while he tried to tidy up urgent matters before his three days of booked leave. Simon ran courses with the new batch of rookies up for selection and sparred with Johnny in the gym. The opportunity to exercise his physicality was welcome. His body was strong, capable, the best part of him. The part of him that would serve Price loyally. 

After dinner, Simon headed back to Price's office and tapped the door. The voice from the other side sounded even more exhausted than it had the night before. “Simon,” Price said, not looking up from the form in front of him. “Got yer answer then?”

“Yeah,” Simon said, “it's a yes. I accept. I… wan’ to bond with ya.”

Price placed his pen down slowly and leaned back in his chair. There was sweat on his temples and Simon could smell him even stronger than the day before. Fuckin’ delicious. “Right,” Price said. “Simon, you, uh… you need to know my heat, it's uhm… I find it difficult. Never shared it with anyone before.”

Simon could see Price's discomfort. How much he hated exposing this vulnerability. He sniffed, scratched his chin, and finally looked up at Simon's masked face. Simon blinked slowly. “S’ok. We’ll take it at your pace. You headin’ off tonight?”

Price glanced at the duffel bag on the chair by the window and nodded. “Yeah. You, uh… we can wait ‘til next time if you were savin’ yer leave for somethin’ special.”

“Naw, I'm good. You alright to put it through so I can go shove some pants in a bag?”

Price huffed. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, not only approvin’ your leave requests but now I'm fillin’ ‘em in for you lazy bastards.” He tapped at his keyboard and jutted his chin at the door. “G'won. Leavin’ base at nine. Don't be late.”

Simon left Price to do his paperwork and headed back to his quarters. He grabbed some underwear, some clean t-shirts and a pair of flannel shorts, his headphones and the Asimov paperwork he was chewing through at the average pace of a single page every three days. Omegas needed to sleep at some point, right? 

The final hour for departure sped by and soon Simon was heading out into the base car park to find Price's old Land Rover chugging away on the tarmac. Price sat in the driver's seat, wrapped in his coat and scarf, beanie pulled low over his ears, breathing into his hands.

“All good?” Price asked as Simon climbed into the passenger seat.

“Yeah. You… uh, you ok to drive?”

Price’s jaw twitched and Simon regretted opening his stupid fucking mouth. “Yeah. Fine. Stupor will set in later. Once I'm…” his voice dropped, “nesting.” He said it like it was an embarrassing admission, not a natural part of his instincts and cycle. Simon didn't probe any further and sat in silence as Price pushed the Landie into first and pulled away. The drive into town was quiet. Price turned on the radio once they'd pulled off base and they listened to the latest chart on BBC Hereford & Worcester. 

Price had a little one bedroom flat in Leominster that he commuted from most days. Sometimes he kipped over in the barracks after a long shift and it wasn't unusual to find him asleep in the rec room if a briefing had over run and he was too tired to drive back. The 141 knew it well as they had spent their ruts there since they'd joined the task force. It was cozy, clean, with traces of their captain as a man rather than a legend. 

When Simon stepped through the front door, the Land Rover tucked up for the night in the carport, he drew in a deep breath and felt his eyes flutter. He shed his coat and kicked his boots off and watched with no small amount of affection as Price grabbed them immediately to stack next to his, before slipping into a pair of well trodden slippers. “Brew?” Price asked as they headed into the open plan living room.

“Yeah, gaspin’,” Simon said, placing his duffel down by the arm of the couch before slumping into the middle of it. The material was a well worn brushed cotton, with two tartan fleece blankets thrown over the back. Simon pulled his mask over his head and ruffled a hand through his flattened hair, before burying his newly naked face into the scent of Price soaked into the soft material. He could picture him here in the evenings, wrapped up and snoozing, probably snoring his bloody head off like he did on op. But relaxed, at home, nested.

“Yer like a fuckin’ bloodhound,” Price grumbled as he walked over, a steaming mug of tea clutched in each hand. 

“I ain't drinkin’ outta that Liverpool mug.”

“Ahh, wind yer neck in, it's mine.” Price dumped the other mug on the coffee table in front of Simon, and then fell into the armchair. Still keeping a slight distance. This was different from when they met to weather Simon's rut. Simon was the vulnerable one in that and he trusted Price implicitly, but now their roles were reversed, and Price wasn’t used to not holding the leash. 

Simon slurped a mouthful of tea - perfect brew, strong, two sugars - and glanced at the telly when Price switched it on. The ten o’clock news, a slew of reports about how the world was going to shit and the rich were benefiting from it. Simon was only half paying attention, maybe not even half, because from the corner of his eye he was observing Price. 

He was slumped low in the chair, his lips parted, his eyes misty. The scent rolling off of him was saccharin, deeply appealing, and Simon's fingers twitched against the warm ceramic of his mug. Price managed to finish his before his eyes slid closed, his breathing growing a little ragged as his fingers kneaded at the arms of his chair. “Captain?” Simon prompted, his mug landing softly on a coaster. 

“Yeah, I'm good…”

“D’ya need anythin’?”

Price swallowed, observing Simon from beneath low lashes. A grimace passed over his face, his thighs pushing together. “Gonna shower… there's scran in the fridge, help yasel’.” His accent thickened briefly as his mind struggled to find purchase, and Simon watched him head into the bedroom with a faint smile. He listened to Price move around his bedroom through the wall, and then the rush of water as he turned the shower on. 

How long did he wait? Did he coax? It was usually easier than this. Price led the way, tugging Simon's clothes off, praising him in that rough, no-nonsense way he had; stable, certain. This Price was different. He was distant, anxious, even. Simon waited until the stream of water was disrupted, sloshing against the glass and tiles, before he rolled to his feet.

Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, but he knew he needed to do something. Price was clearly struggling. Limping through the last few hours before his heat settled in and dreading every moment of it. Simon pulled his clothes off, folding them over the laundry basket near the bedroom door, before he walked into the bathroom. He found Price panting in the steam, his hands against the wall as the water streamed down his freckled back, head bowed low between his shoulders.

He wasn't quiet as he slid the glass shower door to the side and slipped into the cubicle, his palm sliding over Price's ribs to glide up his chest. Price startled with a snarl, twisting around to latch a hand around Simon's throat as the other snatched his wrist. “Easy,” Simon whispered, airways restricted as Price squeezed. “Lemme help. Not gonna hurt ya, John.”

Price's shoulders heaved, blue eyes bright and feverish. Simon leaned into the palm at his throat and realised Price’s arm gave. He was shaking. Simon slid a palm up the tiles and eased Price back against his forearm as he pushed further, closer, until his lips slotted to Price’s and his tongue swept into his mouth. Simon used his greater height and bulk to his advantage, enveloping Price in his arms and drawing him into the warmth of his body, hand sliding down his back to his arse to bring their hips together.

Price was skittish, he wanted the kiss but kept drawing back before licking forward again, like he was clinging onto the cliff edge by his fingernails. His hands scrambled over Simon's chest, pushing him, gripping him, uncertain how to respond to the alpha swamping him. Price wasn't small, not by any standard, but Simon had a little extra, enough to cradle him, make him feel safe. Where Price was athletic and lean in his height and strength, Simon was bulky. Lots for a hungry omega to sink his teeth into.

“Simon…” Price grunted, tensing up as Simon's mouth kissed down his throat to the slope of his neck where his gland sat beneath his skin. His nails bit into Simon's shoulders, lips peeling back in a low growl. “Don't… not… not ready, can't…”

“S’ok, I know,” Simon murmured. “Relax. Need ya t’ trust me. Not gonna hurt ya.”

“‘m… don't judge me, for…”

“Not gonna. None o’ this will make me think anythin’ less of you, sir. S’a gift.”

Price flinched. “S’a curse. I… I fuckin’ hate it.”

“I know,” Simon murmured, opening his mouth to suckle on Price’s neck as he caressed up and down his body. Every pass of his palms over flushed skin seemed to be easing the tension, gentling him into his heat. His touch only paused to grab the soap and shampoo, washing Price tenderly, encouraged by the way he arched and writhed beneath the smooth glide of skin on skin. Simon worshipped every scar, every mole, every dip and curve of muscle. Those ragged pants broke around soft whimpers and soon the steam was saturated with the scent of an aroused omega’s heat. 

When his fingers slipped over the full curve of Price’s arse to the crease of his thigh, Price’s foot shifted out, inviting Simon's caress between his legs. Simon gladly provided, fingertips stroking gently over slick folds, pressing a little firmer with each pass until he was teasing Price's hole, tight muscles fluttering at Simon's finger in eager anticipation. “Fuck… you're wet…”

“‘m.. in the shower..” Price rasped, sounding dazed, and Simon smiled against his neck. Tentative hands began to explore Simon’s body, following familiar paths around his full tits and down his stomach to the thick, hot length of his erection pressing into Price’s hips. Simon shifted his own until his shaft could slide between Price's thighs. Spread as they were, it was just a tease, the ridge of his crown drawing back and forth over Price's slit, glans catching across the swell of his own small cock and making him stutter. 

Simon moaned into Price’s neck, the scent, the heat, the feeling of Price's strong body yielding to him inch by inch, it was a heady mix that was teasing him higher into feverish excitement. But he couldn't knot Price here. The first one took a while to go down and he didn't fancy keeping six foot plus of omega pinned to cold tiles while they waited for the tie to end. 

Simon drew Price out of the water and wrapped him in the warm towel from the radiator. The bedroom was warm, the bed even warmer as Simon lowered Price into it, tugging the towel into the floor, and nudging his thighs apart as he leaned down for a kiss. Simon ground his cock through Price's folds, smearing slick and precum over flushed hot skin. Price arched, opening his hips and hitching his legs high up Simon's sides. 

Simon gathered one of Price’s hands and wound their fingers together, pressing them into the mattress above Price's head as he reached down to guide his cock. He held it steady as he thrust his tip into the tight clutch of Price's body, teasing back and forth. It was sweet, sweet torture.

“Simon, hnn, ahh… please…”

“Tell me ya wan’ this.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck… ahh, please…”

“Yer fuckin’ gorgeous, sir. Look at you.”

Simon kissed him, sucking his lips, his tongue, but drew back when he began to thrust in deeper. He wanted to watch Price’s face as he was taken for the first time. The way it relaxed in bewildered pleasure, blue eyes rolling; glistening, kiss-swollen lips parting as a low moan trembled from his chest. Simon bottomed out, his balls pressed to the underside of Price's arse, full and heavy in the heat. 

He had never wanted to knot and breed so much in his life. Not even in the chokehold of rut did the urge feel this strong. The scent of heat soaked his tongue, cloyed in his throat, and as Simon began to thrust deep into Price's body, the snug, warm grip of it sucking so eagerly on the thick girth of his prick, Price finally relaxed, his head tilting back as he panted and moaned. 

The sheets dampened beneath his arched back, Simon's hand slipping beneath him, encouraging the curve of his spine as Simon sat up on his knees, drawing Price up onto his lap to bounce him down onto his cock with his furred chest pressed up and open, letting Simon suck and kiss his full tits, his dusky nipples pebbled hard in arousal as tongue and teeth swept over them.

Price clenched a hand in Simon’s hair, the other dropping behind him to support his weight against the mattress so he had agency in the roll of his hips, meeting each of Simon’s thrusts over his sweet spot. Now that he didn't need both hands to support Price’s body, Simon snuck one between them, thumb rubbing the swell of Price’s leaking cock.  Price got loud, more than the stifled pants of their usual trysts. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–”

Price's thighs pushed wide as his orgasm curled through him, sinking down until every inch of Simon’s thick cock was inside him. Simon ground in, growling low in his chest as he felt Price pulse and throb around his cock, slick dripping down his balls and thighs. Price was completely lost in pleasure, fockin’ beautiful, flushed and euphoric. He didn't fight when Simon shifted him onto his front and raised his hips, mounting him while on his feet, two big hands pressing down on his waist. Price dropped his chest to the bed and spread his knees wide, cocking his hips so that Simon could thrust deep. It was a natural breeding position and Simon's arousal intensified, cock rock hard as his omega presented. 

Watching Price's back muscles flex, his arse cheeks ripple under the force of Simon's thrusts, hearing his blissed out noises as they were punched from his chest, soon teased Simon's knot out of him. It swelled just as Price's second orgasm tightened his hole, and Simon ground forward, circling his hips until it popped inside clenching muscle. 

Price cried out, his orgasm intensifying as his body pulsed, instinctually milking Simon for every drop as he came. It was intense; mind-fuckingly good. Simon scrunched his eyes closed and saw lights behind his lids, and he listened as Price’s gravelly voice broke and whimpered through the swells of pleasure rolling through him.

When the aftershocks calmed, Simon eased them onto their sides, wrapping Price in his arms as his knot stayed snug inside his body. He pressed kisses into his damp hair, teased sensitive skin, and whispered praise. They dozed like that, surfacing to exchange lazy kisses before drifting off again. When Simon's knot went down, he drew out gently, only to replace his cock with his fingers. Price's hole was sloppy, loose and relaxed, and Simon groaned low in his throat. “Gonna breed you, love. Gonna make you mine.”

Price chuffed softly in response, thighs flopping open so that Simon could caress him properly, pushing his leaking seed back inside. Simon didn't need asking twice.

They mated throughout the night into the early morning. Simon left the bed long enough to get some food and water, and helped Price with both as the haze of heat made his movements sluggish. After a few hours of sleep, Simon woke him with another knot, holding him back to chest as he slid into him from behind. Each knot was a thorough breeding, their hormones, their scents, their bodies mixing until Price was ready to be bonded. 

Simon was hilt deep when he finally sank his teeth into Price's gland. His omega draped over him, back to chest, strong body arched in submission. Simon cupped beneath a thigh, thrusting into him with a semi-inflated knot that was making his eyes roll in overwhelming bliss. He tilted his head away under the guidance of Simon's hand at his chin, and Simon finally claimed the object of his desire, knot swelling inside him and triggering an intense wave of pleasure that made Price's body seize up.

The wound stopped bleeding as Simon licked it. He remembered vaguely reading something about alpha's having a clotting agent in their saliva sparked by the process of mating. Price’s pained huffs faded into softer sighs, and Simon held him as his body adjusted to the sudden surge of hormones in his bloodstream. Simon slid his palm over Price’s belly and cupped beneath its slight swell. 

“I know ‘m not your first choice,” Simon whispered in the quiet, his throat hoarse. “But…”

“Simon,” Price murmured, soft, wistful. “You're it. Jus’... always thought ya deserved better ‘an me.”

Simon's heart clenched in his chest, his nose burying in Price's hair. “Ain't nothin’ better ‘an you.”

“Got… bad taste in clothing and men, that bloody bally…”

“Olrigh’ boonie hat,” Simon chuckled, rocking his hips up a little in revenge. Price groaned, his body bearing down around Simon’s knot in a sudden throb of pleasure. “Heard bonded mating is a whole new level, but this… fuck, the noises you make.”

Price huffed softly. “Gettin’ a big head, Riley…”

“Naw, reckon I'm on the money, maybe I need t’ remind you again.” Simon slid a hand down Price's body to stroke his cock, rolling his hips slowly to grind his knot over Price's sweet spot, the stretch just the right side of too much. Price gasped, his back arching, and Simon clamped an arm around his chest to keep him still, giving him no choice but to endure the heated pleasure curling through his hips.

They had another day and a half to secure their bond before they had to return to work, and in that time, Simon would make sure Price never had a reason to dread his heat again. 

[obsessivevoidkitten]

(Just another idea that wouldn't get out of my head, hope you enjoy it. Has noncon implied later, sexism, gender neutral omega reader, a/b/o, musk/pheromones, and kidnapping. Sorry for any mistakes as it os 4am)

1200 years in the future. Omegas had recently gained equal rights within the last 30 years. You are an omega in a world still adjusting to the new rights.

It was late at night, and no one else was in the parking lot. You were just getting your groceries put into the trunk of your car. A normal activity. Certainly not one that you would have such disastrous consequences.

But you were doing it at the wrong place and wrong time.

An alpha, Brady, was running past the grocery store despite the late hour. Tall, muscular build, black hair and wearing a tank top. Earlier, he had finished a spectacularly awful date and was going for a jog to get his mind off of it.

Stupid omega liberation, he thought to himself. They're small, weak, and fragile. Meant to be protected and looked after by a strong alpha that kept them full of knot. Everyone knew omegas went stupid for knot during their heats.

But everything was ruined now that omegas had all the same rights.

Brady didn't think that omegas were inferior or anything, but they were special and had to be treated differently. It was just nature.

His earlier date did not share his views and ended things quickly.

As he went by, his nose caught your scent. It was faint, as if covered, but pleasant. He looked over and saw you struggling with heavy groceries. You smelled so nice and looked just so helpless and adorable, so he offered you some assistance.

"No, no. That's okay. I got it!"

His smell almost made you flustered. Why did some alphas go out all seeaty without covering up their strong scent? Being alone with an unknown musky alpha at night made you a bit nervous.

"But those are heavy, a cute lil omega like you shouldn't be carrying stuff like that."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. What an archaic mindset from the times when omegas were used as prizes in athletic comeptitions and had no rights.

That was the last straw for Brady. There he was, a nice sweaty pheromone drenched alpha, clearly in his prime, offering you a bit of help, and you just shrug him off like that? Especially when your scents clearly showed you were such a perfect mate?

Brady was enraged. He quickly tossed you right into your trunk and closed you in before casually putting the rest of your groceries into the back seat and then proceeding to drive off to his home. After all, he had to be considerate and make sure you had your food that you liked. Though this would certainly be the last time you would be purchasing it for yourself.

Your "omega rights" would be the right to his fat knot tying you to him, the right to his scent covering you entirely at all times, and the right to make a nest in his bed.

His body was filled with adrenaline at the thought. When he got you home, he would be breeding you IMMEDIATELY.

[esthercore]

HSR Men and After Care ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

Argenti is a yes, the jack of all trades, everything you can think of, cuddling, talking, cleaning, everything, always, prolonged after care, almost giving you a home spa and massage. Making you feel the luckiest price/princess in the world, yet so effortlessly.

Aventurine's likes cuddles, massaging you and words of affirmation, telling each other pretty things and kissing each other's scars. Staring into each other's eyes before falling asleep.

Blade just lays their and let you do whatever you want to with him, or just do anything you tell him to, really need to be taught tenderness, but will try his best for you.

Boothill will be the one needing some positive pep talk. The man's 95 percent body is metal, so he feels really insecure in his ability to pleasure you. Tell him he did good, and hold him if he tears up. Once he's feeling better again, he help clean up and massage the knots out of your back.

Caelus is so lovely. Oh please teach this sweet racoon puppy how treat you, and he put all his effort into it. He loves you so much and is so desperate for you. He put's the most effort in aftercare, as unlike Argenti who's actions come naturally, Caelus always try to go extra mile to make sure his lover his happy. Maybe even shamelessly ask Himeko for advice or better yet Kafka.

Dan Heng is really good. Coziness is his forte, so bunch of quality time with each other. Not much of a talker, but will listen to you as you lay in his arms, venting out anything and everything that's been bugging you recently, and then kiss your worries out your pretty mind.

Dan Feng (the actual high elder in past) will do the same, but will have tail rapped around your waist, as you two sit on the mat, your back resting on his bare chest, his robe lazily draped, barely hiding his mat, looking at the fountain out in your private courtyard, smoking from his pipe as your beautiful voice fills the room.

Dr Ratio is methodical. He has an algorithm like schedule he likes to follow, laying a towel below you as he prepares the bath, then carrying you princess style, cuddling you in the warm water. His rubber duckies floating around, as he lazily feeds you some grapes and your drink of choice he had prepared. Sometimes he likes to read you whatever stupid fiction book you're into at the moment, things he would never even open himself, but if it's for you, he happily read you the entire thing like an audiobook.

Gallagher is a simple man, he help you clean up, be there till you recover' and then have a smoke, and go about his day, unless you specifically ask him to d something, he don't see the point of doing it.

ForJiaoqui, well is it really a surprise, he will feed you first thing first after some rounds? He needs to ensure you have enough energy. Maybe you're still stuck on his knot, as he make you sit all pretty in his lap, as he feeds you the herbal porridge he had kept ready for his amazing mate.

With Jing Yuan it's cuddle central baby! Gonna plop your body in his, as if you're a plushie, clutch you tight and just fall asleep. Smack him awake if you want proper after care or pass out too, it's not like to you will have energy left after multiple rounds with him.

I believe Luocha will be the best with after care. Very tender, and gentle. The pretty man will be insistive for cuddling you, will clean you so good, make sure you are hydrated, fed and in top notch condition. Will flatter you so much and only be satisfied once you feel like a spoilt prince/princess.

Moze gives you no time for a breather pick you up like a sack and carries you the bathroom, help clean you up, and takes a shower as you yap whole soaking in warm water. Will cuddle after you two are fresh and clean.

Sampo is a meanie, he's the type to tease you even during after care. Calling you a nighty slut, and reminding you the way you acted so desperate and whiny during sex, as he scoop the cum out of your holes, or simply plug you up, if he feels like it. If you tear up he simply his your tears, and hug you tight. Will start calling you sweet names, and i love you's, when you're on the verge of falling asleep tho.

Sunday is well Sunday, he would have water prepared, maids already ordered to run you bath, and even some snacks for you. Even if it's compulsive office sex, he would always be prepared. Very determined while taking care of you. Likes worshipping your body, and trail you with kisses, telling you how perfect, and how pretty you are.

[dwaekkicidal]

thoughts on owner channie w puppy seungmin & kitty reader w owner lino  >ᴗ<?

the way i started pacing my room after reading this and waiting for my computer to turn on so i could write something LMFAO-

also u must be in my walls or something because ive been going batshit crazy over hybrids lately but i havent told anybody? get out of my head???

do NAWT ask me how this has 1.4k words... i will not explain myself.

nsfw below the cut» x reader mainly but mxm at the very end

anywhoooo.... onwards!

so lets just say that we have owner!channie who doesn't know what to do when his puppy!seungmin becomes a brat all of a sudden. he's growling at every male hybrid he looks at, not listening when channie tells him to do something, and even humping + cumming on a pillow or two (definitely more than that but channie doesn't have to know that)

and then he's meeting up with his best friend, kitty-owner!lino, who mocks his best friend for not being able to prove himself as the "head dog of the house"

he keeps up this teasing up until channie describes a few more behaviors that rings alarms in lino's head and he realizes that his friend's stupid mutt is just going into heat!! and lil ol' channie didn't think that far ahead so he's absolutely not prepared to deal with his puppy's first heat alone

but then lino reminds him that he has a pretty, well-behaved kitty sitting at home with no mate and her own heat on its way soon~ so they agree to have them meet and plan everything out

the first time you meet, seungmin is absolutely losing his shit >< he can smell you before he sees you and you just so smell so. sweet. his heat makes the smell a million times worse and he just wants to eat you alive. more figuratively than literally but he doesn't think he would mind taking a chomp or two-

and channie is absolutely mind-boggled that the stupid brat he's been dealing with all week is suddenly being good, all thanks to the mere presence of another hybrid.

little does he know it's only thanks to how hard seungmin is biting his cheek so that he doesn't bend you over right here, right now in the middle of this park where everybody would see

after that they move fast, thanks to seungmin's heat starting early, and lino prepares you as much as he can before helping you settle into channie's guest room

channie even put a mini fridge in there- filled it to the brim with both of your favorite drinks+water, put a huge stack of blankets and spare clothes on top of the dresser, and filled a few dresser drawers to the brim with snacks

channie took the week off of work while lino opted to "work from home" and they stayed close by, camping out in the living room together and "reluctantly" listening closely so they could hear any possible calls for help from either of you

but no matter how much preparation they made, they were not in the slightest prepared for how almost feral seungmin became

the first few hours were the most unbearable, it was hard for you to get used to this stupid, insatiable mutt and his unnecessarily big knot. but you did get used to it eventually!

it only took multiple rounds and your poor cunt getting overfilled with his cum, much to his dismay. it only made him angry and pushed him to fuck into you even harder as he whined and complained about how you "need to take it better" so he could fuck a litter or two into you.

& both men could hear the growling as well as the plap plap plap of seungmin's balls hitting your poor, abused cunt >< your moans and cries bleeding through the walls to the point where channie thought for a second he would get the cops called on him for a noise complaint

but he stopped worrying about that when the few seconds of silence were disrupted by even more sobs and begs for seungmin to give you his pups!

though, minnie took such good care of you after each round!! he made sure you drank enough water and was good on snacks until lino came in with the bigger meals for both of you. but, that was all thrown out the window when he found himself rock hard, yet again.

he just couldn't hold himself back from folding you into every position he could think of that would keep you below him, at his mercy, and keep your pretty, puffy pussy ready for him at all times

channie felt like it was constant. like the two of you had spent every minute of those days drooling over each other and fucking each other's brains out.

which to some degree was true... neither of you could deny that, but you both still got... occasional breaks! they may or may not have been short-lived before seungmin was ready to go again, but nobody needs to know that!

all that your owners needed to know was that, by the time seungmin's heat was over, you were well bred and he felt like himself again!

but- oh! would you look at that? your owners came in to help you guys clean up after the fact, but it appears that seungmin managed to trigger your heat... but not to worry! he is very keen on repaying you for your help and is already shoving his cock into you before lino can even get out the door~

so,, maybe you guys weren't exactly done yet.

bonus;

puppy!seungmin realizing he had a lot of fun misbehaving during his heat so, now that you and him are well acquainted and hang out multiple times throughout the week, he goes out of his way to make his owner's life miserable~

fucks you into every surface he can think of: the dining table, the kitchen counters, the bathroom sink, the bathtub/shower, the coffee table, the couch, against the windows, in the middle of the hallway, channie's desk...

channie's bed

& seungmin always makes sure you make the biggest mess possible so that he can see the veins on channie's neck pops out when he blames it on his "instincts"

it pushes ALL of channie's buttons. not only does he have to clean up the insane amounts of cum all around his place, but he also has to smell sex literally everywhere all while he "can't" get his dick wet :((

so i bring you: owner!lino who lets owner!channie fuck you, his eager kitty, into the mattress all the while puppy!seungmin is all but tied to a chair.

lino watches over him and makes sure that he doesn't touch himself, cum, or even look away from the bed, for that matter

double bonus; mxm continuation of ^

lino's got his big, veiny hands jerking minnie off only to pull away and leave him leaking when he almost cums for the nth time :((

& channie's never subjected him to anything like this before so he caves a lot sooner than any of them thought; tears prickling his pretty boba eyes and his cock an angry red as it twitches with each apology that comes out of his lips

but.. oh! their pretty kitty is too tired to go another round? 'oh im sorry minnie.' poor pup. 'what will we do with you now?'

it doesn't take long for channie to fold. he loves his puppy and he would do anything to make those stupid tears go away- even if that means splitting him in half on his cock <3

he'd always thought about fucking his pretty mutt, but never thought it was on the table until those big, begging puppy dog eyes stared up at him all watery and his puppy was sitting there begging him to help him :(

he can't help himself when he lays down and lets seungmin have his way with his cock! but then all of a sudden lino joins in- letting his kitty take a nap and rest while he slides a hand around seungmin's waist and the other in his hair

he controls his hip movements like this and snaps at channie when he tries to tell minho to 'just let him do what he wants.'

no. no. no. absolutely not. 'stupid pup needs to learn his lesson.'

lino makes them change positions so that they can eiffel tower him; lino fucking his throat raw while channie's dicking him down hard enough to make the boy feel him in his tummy <3

& he's making the biggest mess all over the sheets!! a mixture of drool and precum soaking dark spots into channie's previously clean sheets, the realization making something in channie snap hehe

yea. im sick in the head over this. thank u anon i love you so much

[ultravi0lence14]

BORDERLINE

SOLDIER BOY X SWEETHEART!READER

WARNINGS: soldier boy as a whole, mentions of drugs, crude language

SUMMARY: in a feeble attempt to thwart your crush on soldier boy, you decide to practice shooting a gun with him, realizing that the crush you have on him is on the borderline of obsession.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

the attraction you held for soldier boy was starting to become a problem.

it had been two weeks since you helped the boys rescue soldier boy from his cold induced sleep, and each waking second you were with him was getting worse and worse for your sanity.

although the man was a grade A jackass, he had this whit and charm about him that had you falling at his feet. it didn’t make it any better that he was totally hot. who cares if he was technically a grandpa, you were so far gone no one could bring you back.

you were gracing the borderline of obsession, and soldier boy would be a fool to have not noticed.

how could he not? you were always batting those pretty lashes at him, staring with those wide eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking, and always nervously biting your lip or stuttering over your words when he spoke to you.

ben thought you were adorable; with your glossy waves, short skirts and tight fitted tops. you were everything he found attractive, your personality just being the cherry on top.

so when he saw you, small denim skirt and tight tank top, making his dick harden, he realized that it was time to make a move.

you were staring down at butcher’s desk, looking at the gun he had given you to protect yourself. though there was a slight problem; you’ve never shot a gun in your life, and there was no way that butcher was going to teach you, even if you asked nicely.

“the guns not gonna bite ya’ babydoll,” the sound of soldier boys smug voice rang from behind you, making you stiffen. “c’mon, pick it up, i’ll teach ya’ how to use it.”

the apples of your cheeks reddened, slowly looking at the weapon and back at soldier boy. “you don’t need to do this ben, i don’t want to inconvenience you.” your words made his jaw clench. it wasn’t even the fact that you used his real name — a small gesture that made his stomach tighten. but it was the fact that you thought the mere idea of him helping you would be annoying to him.

you could never annoy him.

never.

you were the only person in this stupid group he could stand to be around.

“you could never annoy me, babydoll. now c’mon,” he spoke, reaching across you to grab the gun and stopping a breath away from your face, his nose basically touching yours. “you need to learn how to shoot, protect yourself from the fuckers out in the world.” he implemented his words with a sultry kiss on your cheek, the smell of weed and something distinctly soldier boy hoarding your senses as he pulled away and walked towards the shooting range in the building.

standing in place, your eyes were wide as you recounted what just happened. did he really just kiss you on the cheek? face so close to yours you could taste the earthy drug on his breath? it was all so intoxicating. so much so you didn’t even notice the man in question standing by the office’s entrance, a smug smile on his face.

“you comin’ babydoll? or do i need to haul you over my shoulder and carry you myself?” the imagery of your ass on full display as you were flung over his shoulder made the knot in ben’s spine stiffen, having mentally stop himself from getting a hard on as you walked sheepishly closer to him.

the walk to the secluded gun range was silent, your brain running ramped with how close soldier boy was to you; while ben tried to stop himself from pushing you against a wall and kissing you senseless.

as the two of you walked into the stuffy room, your eyes instantly roaming around to notice multiple targets with an onslaught of bullet holes in them. a long, stretching metal table to stand behind was glaring at you, glass panes dull without light reflecting off of them.

with a breeze of nonchalance and arrogance, solider boy walked over to the table and adjusted the gun in his palms. he fiddled with the clip, smacking it on the table and making sure all the bullets were in perfectly.

when he clicked it back into place, the man of the hour in your mind adjusted the safety off before aiming the gun upwards and shooting a couple of bullets at the target.

the loud sound made you plug your ears and jump in shock, but you also couldn’t help but notice how he landed his shots perfectly on the targets skull each time.

it was hot, watching him shoot a gun so effortlessly. yet you also couldn’t help but scold yourself at the thoughts twirling around your brain. how you wished he would kiss you senseless, be as reckless with you as he was with that gun while he pounded into your-

“get that pretty ass over here babydoll,” soldier boy grinned out, crooking a finger in a come hither motion. “gonna start our lessons nice and easy”

timidly, you walked over to the smirking man, gasping as his one arm snaked out and gripped your waist to pull you into him. your noses were brushing each other, breaths mingling as ben leaned forward and quickly nipped at your bottom lip.

no time to even react, soldier boy maneuvered your bodies so he was caging you in between the table and his body — his big arms wrapped around you in a snug and protective shield.

“first of all,” he started, whispering in your ear as you looked down at the gun in front of you. “this is how you grip a gun.” he showed you the proper ways to hold it, demonstrating and explaining through the proper technique as you tried to listen and not let your brain explode. “does that make sense, babydoll?”

his question caught you off guard, for you’d been staring at his veiny arms instead of listening.

with a sheepish nod, you grabbed the gun and held it in the same position he had. the feeling of his hands gripping tightly onto your waist made you coil tight in anticipation, and the ragged pull of his breath against your ear had yours catching in your throat.

“good fuckin’ girl.” he rasped out, the feeling of his smirk tickling your earlobe. “such a good listener for me, hmm?”

a sheepish nod filtered from your bones, leaving soldier boy to playfully kiss at your neck as his arms wrapped around yours. “now this is how ya do it.” he murmured in your ear, lifting your arms up while his big hands encompassed yours. “keep steady, aim straight at your target, and squeeze the trigger. though be careful ‘bout the recoil pretty girl. as much as i’m always here to catch you, i don’t want you hurting yourself.

nothing came from your parted lips as you focused solely on aiming at the target. nog even the feeling of ben’s hands gripping yours and his arms intwined around your body could shake the wave of concentration that coursed through your body.

with a shaky breath, your finger jumped to squeeze the trigger. a jolt thrummed up your arms, the ricochet from the shot jolting your bones.

you hadn’t even realized you’d closed your eyes until you felt ben’s hands untangle themselves from yours, palms going to your shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“look at you, babydoll!” he praised, lips brushing the shell of your ear as you peaked your eyes open. “that’s my fuckin’ girl! right on the money!”

it took you a while to realize that your shoot had pierced directly through the targets chest, hitting exactly where their heart would lie beating in their bones.

letting out a deafening squeal, you jumped slightly on the spot, turning around and throwing your arms around soldier boy’s neck. “i did it!” you squeaked, feet lifting off the ground as ben spun you around in his grasp. “holy shit ben i did it!”

“yes you did baby” he murmured in your ear, placing you down on the table and spreading your legs so he could fit in between your thighs. “and now it’s time for your reward.”

his skillful tongue dove into your mouth, lips mashing against each other as the both of you indulged in a heated kiss. whatever crush you had on this man turned into full blown obsession as he gripped your hair in one hand, using the leverage to pull your head back and leave trails of kisses down your neck.

this maddening lust you held for him wasn’t going away soon. especially after you learned what his tongue and fingers felt like exploring your pussy.

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @gibson-g1rl @deanangel @whisperingdaze @figthoughts @honeyryewhiskey @haunteres @foolinthera1n @ilovedeanwinchester4

NAT BABBLES: first soldier boy fic. . . pls be nice to me🥹

DIVIDER CREDS: @adornedwithlight

[holy-puckslibrary]

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~ 

I. it’s getting so much clearer… 

Matthew regrets making you a key. 

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble. 

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring. 

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage. 

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home. 

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane. 

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare. 

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is. 

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?” 

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood. 

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven. 

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange. 

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load. 

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone. 

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it. 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand. 

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course. 

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line. 

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist." 

And he does. 

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head. 

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list. 

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one. 

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate. 

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly. 

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.” 

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard. 

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future. 

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor. 

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently. 

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did. 

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.” 

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection. 

“—looks so fucking stupid.” 

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey. 

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind. 

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day. 

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?” 

“Of course, it fucking do—” 

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting. 

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…” 

“It looks, what?” 

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you. 

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.” 

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup. 

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you. 

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat. 

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you. 

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep. 

What’s gotten into him? 

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.) 

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself. 

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge. 

Not with you looking like that.  

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.” 

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes. 

You snort. “Funny." 

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you. 

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge. 

Matthew turns you to face him without warning. 

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later. 

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest. 

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates. 

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible. 

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.  

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way. 

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey. 

“W-We need to be quick—” 

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good? 

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.  

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse. 

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.” 

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.” 

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds. 

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is. 

A robbery, if you ask him. 

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites. 

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles. 

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused. 

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes. 

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”  

“I'm not.” 

“You've never been a good liar.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect. 

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams. 

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you. 

“Don't change the subject.” 

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither. 

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.” 

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you. 

“So?” 

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive. 

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.” 

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony. 

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard. 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance. 

And you do.  

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser. 

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time. 

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade. 

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.  

Mathew smiles. 

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough. 

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.” 

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now. 

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic. 

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed. 

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life. 

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.” 

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice. 

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”  

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?” 

“They aren’t!” 

They absolutely are. 

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles. 

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple. 

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears. 

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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[revelboo]

Sure! Hound and Teebs are both sobering up enough to realize they’ve royally messed up and that kidnapping a little friend just because you’re cripplingly lonely under the premise of ‘protecting them’ whether they want it or not isn’t okay.

It did the weird thing it’s doing lately where I can’t directly reply to this one.

Heavy Boots Pt 3

Hound x Reader

• You’re scared of him. Servos flexing on the datapad in his hands, he watches the way your eyes scan his habsuite. Quiet and shell shocked as you look for a way to escape, one of the blankets he’d given you draped over your shoulders and dragging behind you. And this isn’t what he’d wanted at all. Had wanted a companion. Someone to accompany him on patrols, talk to him about something beyond the war effort. He’d imagined a smiling human, glad to be rescued, happy to explore the green world outside the Ark with him. Not… this. And he’s not sure how to fix it.

• The vents are going to be your best bet, looks like. Can’t really tell from up on his berth, but you think you might be able to squeeze through the slats. Those have to go outside at some point, right? Catching him watching you over the top of his datapad, you turn your attention to the ceiling, pretending you’re just checking the place out not plotting. Vents had worked for Bruce Willis, right? And Hound’s so big, he won’t be able to get to you in there. Could you just walk to wherever your buddy is and get out that way together? Going still when he stands and taps a servo against the berth, you force a smile. “I’ll be back, but anything you want me to find for you?”

• Hates the way you go still and lean away from him like you think he’s a threat, just shaking your head at him and offering him a fake smile. There’s no way for you to get down from his berth, though. And he wants to try to at least make this better. Figure out how to get a real smile from you. Something you might like. A way to begin making amends.

• After he leaves, you walk to the edge and lean out to look down. It’s a long drop, but he’d filled your stupid doggie bed with blankets. Using your teeth and pulling, you begin to tear off strips, making a little pile. Because just staying here to play house pet? Not happening. Knotting the strips together, your heart begins to race. There’s not much space between the bottom edge of his berth, but it’s enough to wedge the end of your crude rope through after knotting the top so it won’t slip through. At least you hope it won’t. Yanking on your rope to check if the knots will hold, you try to convince yourself that it’s just like rappelling down from those stupid climbing walls your last ex had loved. Easy. Sure.

• There’s a greenhouse on the outskirts of the little town he’d found while exploring in his alt mode. Transforming and keeping low, he wedges his fingers under the structure and lifts the whole thing out of the way. Begins picking out potted plants you might like. Things to make his habsuite more welcoming. Has no idea if you even like plants, but he doesn’t have a better idea. Just wants to cheer you up until he can work up the nerve to apologize for, well, everything.

Previous

[drewsnr1slut]

Dressing room

Summary: rafe and y/n go shopping, and while they’re doing that rafe gets kinda needy…

Tw: smut, use of whore/slut/…

“How is this outfit baby?” I asked excitedly, placing my hands on my hips and doing a little spin. the little outfit I wore was a torn up black fitted tank top, with a matching micro black skirt. his eyes analyzed me from head to toe. he stood up, adjusting his pants as he walked over to me. “Baby, you know you look amazing and everything.” I rolled my eyes and walking back into the dressing room, he followed after shutting the door. Rafe pushed his body up close to mine, snaking his hands around my waist to my exposed stomach. he planted soft kisses on my neck biting gently. he fidgeted with the waistband of the skirt I wore. “no.” I chuckled softly as I pushed him off me, he groaned quietly and threw his hands to his sides. “baby cmon.. why not?” he said pouting, but I knew he was trying to hide that stupid smirk. I let out a sarcastic laugh as I turned to hit “because I’m not having sex in a dressing room, idiot.” I said laughing a little, he sat down clearly mad with me. I scoff and slid off the current shirt I had tried on, revealing the lacy bra I had on, the hem of the matching panties peaking out from the skirt as I bent over. he groaned and let out a scoff. “your killing me y/n.” I giggled and turned around. he still had on his pissy expression and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. I walked over to him and gently grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “baby, we are in a public area. no.” I gave his cheek a quick kiss, he stood up and slammed me against the wall harshly. my eyes widened in shock “Rafe what the fu—“ he quickly cuts me off by smashing his lips against mine. I moaned quietly, I pushed his lips off mine and scoffed. “Rafe, i would so love to fuck you right now. but you know people would hear us, I just can’t be quiet.” he planted harsh kisses on my neck, I let out a little whimper. “let me handle that then.” he said with a smirk, gliding his tongue against the spot under my ear. he slid off my skirt and my panties along with it. I tried to speak again, to take it slow and not to harsh. but he slapped his hand against my mouth, silencing me quickly. he ripped off his belt and jeans, then rammed his cock into my tight pussy. my eyes rolled back and my back arched, he bit his lip in pleasure. “this tight pussy could make me cum on the spot.” he grunted, letting out a breathy laugh. I let out a muffled whine in response, he continued to pound me as he spat explicit sentences at me. my hands flew to his biceps for support, I couldn’t hold myself up at this point. he grabbed my thigh, placing it around his hip allowing him to dig deeper into me. “Rafe- t-to ~ngh~ much!!” I cried, but he didn’t care. his veiny hand muffling my whimpers and moans. his free hand flew to my bundle of nerves, rubbing rapid circles my whines became more frequent as that knot began to form in my stomach. “I’m g-gonna cum!!” I moaned out as my eyes fluttered due to the pleasure. he pulled me closer and grunted in my ear. “no your not slut, you cum when I say so.” I whined in response, nodding my head as I obeyed his every word. my legs shook here and there, his middle and ring finger still rubbing circles on my clit. his huge cock stretching me out completely.

“if you make one fucking sound your not cumming.” I screwed my eyes shut and threw my head back, jesus christ I wanted to cum so fucking bad, but when rafe said something he meant it. so I listened to him and shut my mouth, pursing my lips, knawing at my bottom lip, anything to keep those lewd noises from coming out. “good fucking girl, keeping that pretty little mouth shut while I pound you. you like that? you like when I fuck you senseless slut?” I nodded my head, my eyes struggling to stay open as he stared directly in my eyes, his praising only getting me closer and closer. his thrust getting sloppy, I could tell he was close. he grabbed my waist and flipped me around, pressing my body up against the mirror as he pounded me from the back, his hand snaking down back to my clit rubbing fast circles again. my eyes rolled right to the back of my head, feeling his tip ram right into that sweet spot I desired. he grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back forcing me to look into the mirror as he fucked me. “look at you, little whore taking my cock s’good hm?” every word he said to me put me under a spell. he could say anything he wanted to me and I’ll take it like the good girl I am for him. I felt that familiar knot form in my stomach again, and I knew for a fact he was close too. the way his thrust got sloppier and sloppier told me everything I needed to know, I thrusted my ass back just to feel more of that pleasure I longed for. his groans and grunts becoming more frequent as well. he threw his head back slightly, as his hand slid off my mouth I whined out. “gonna ~mhh~ cum..!” I said out of breath. my legs shaking, my eyes screwed shut and my back arched. “fuckkkkkk, cum baby cum.” he grunted as he grasped my waist harshly, slamming his dick into me. our skin slapping together loudly one last time, as we both came together. “ohhhh shitttt…” rafe dragged out, letting out a breathy laugh as his warm cum coated my walls. some dripping out of my used pussy “fuck!! oh fuck yess!!” I moaned out quite loudly. I didn’t care anymore, and neither did Rafe. he thrusted into me once more, riding out that high we both loved and enjoyed. I let out a quiet whimper once more as he slipped out of me. feeling empty from his long veiny cock. he dug his middle and ring finger into my pussy, tasting our mixed juices. I stared at him with a tired smirk on my face as he stared back with that same stupid smirk. he helped me put my clothes back on, and he put his on. “I changed my mind baby, I don’t need any of this.” I said in a tired tone as I threw the outfits I had matched together onto the bench. Rafe picked them back up and held them. “no, they look gorgeous on you baby.”I looked up and smiled at him, and he smiled back. “also, I’d like to rip them off to pound you again.” he smirked, playing with the inside of his cheek. knowing how much I loved it when he did that. I rolled my eyes and scoffed as we walked out the store, we knew some people heard. as we paid and left, one of the store clerks had gave us a weird look. we laughed it off as we made our way to the next store. “.. so?” he looked into my eyes and quirked his eyebrow up, I already knew what he was asking. i sighed and gave him a weak grin I rolled my eyes and bit my lip. “cmon say it, I know you wanna.” he teased on, I groaned and hit him playfully. I chuckled in defeat. “.. maybe quickies in public aren’t so bad.”

[goblinontour]

Oh Baby, I Must Be Mad

you’re a bitch, he’s a bitch, he makes you his bitch

warnings: fetus!alex, smut, blowjob, fingering, grinding, fucking, talking, shouting

word count: 6.6k

You sat cross-legged on your bed, elbows propped on your knees, talking and talking as the words rushed out, barely giving you time to breathe. Your voice filled the small dorm room, your frustration practically vibrating off the walls. You barely noticed the cold that clung to everything. The kind that sank into your bones, made your breath feel like frost. But Alex, sprawled out next to you on the bed, felt it. 

He was bundled up like it was midwinter. Tight black jeans stretched over his long legs, a simple t-shirt under his jacket, and even that wasn’t enough. He’d pulled your blanket over himself at some point, though it barely covered him. You could see him, tucked up against the pillows, legs crossed at the ankles, his head tipped back slightly as he stared at the ceiling, eyes half-closed like he was contemplating his escape.

“And I swear, if Evan makes one more comment about his dad’s connections- like, okay, cool, we get it, your dad knows people, but you don’t have to keep saying it like it gives you the right to interrupt literally every conversation-” You huffed, pulling your hair into a messy knot on top of your head, the movement just as irritated as your words. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to the program, and I’m about to lose it if-”

“Mhm.” Alex’s response was so quiet you barely heard it, more of a grunt than anything, and it immediately set your nerves alight. He wasn’t even looking at you, just lying there, his hand resting over his stomach, fingers idly tracing the edges of his jacket.

Your mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing. You stared at him for a second, feeling the bubbling frustration turn to anger. “Are you even listening to me?”

He blinked, slowly, before turning his head just enough to glance at you, his eyes heavy with boredom. “Yeah.” he said, the word drawn out lazily, like it took effort. “Evan. Dad’s connections. He’s annoyin’ you.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter, your arms crossing over your chest. “You’re so not listening. You’ve been laying there like I’m just background noise.”

Alex didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling. His fingers drummed a slow rhythm against his jacket, and it was clear that whatever you were saying wasn’t the priority here. It made your blood boil.

“Alex.” you snapped, uncrossing your legs so your knees bumped into his side. “Seriously. I’m talking to you.”

“I am listening.” he repeated, his voice a bit firmer now, but still with that edge of disinterest that made your irritation flare up.

“No, you’re not. You don’t care.” The words came out sharp, and you could feel the tension in the room rise as you glared at him, your fingers tightening into fists in your lap. “I’m here venting about my day, and you’re just lying there like you couldn’t give less of a shit.”

He exhaled through his nose, slowly, before pushing himself up slightly on his elbow, his brow furrowing. His eyes, which had been so indifferent moments ago, were suddenly darker, more focused on you now. 

“I’m listenin’.” he said, his voice low and clipped. “But maybe that’s because I don’t care about fuckin’ Evan or whatever prick’s been pissin’ you off in class this time.”

His words hit you like a slap, cutting through the air with the sharpness of his accent, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him. The dismissiveness of it, the casual way he said it, like your frustrations were nothing, made something snap inside you.

“Are you kidding me?” you shot back, your voice rising. “I don’t care about your stupid band half the time either, but I still listen when you go on about chords and lyrics and all that other shit you talk about.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” His jaw tightened, and he sat up fully now, legs bent as he turned to face you, his eyes flashing with something sharper. “I talk about the band for five minutes and you act like it’s some massive inconvenience, but you’ve been goin’ on about this bloke for the last, like, hour.”

“Yeah, well, at least when you talk, I actually listen.” you shot back, uncrossing your legs and swinging them off the bed. You stood up, the cold floor biting at your feet, but you didn’t care. Your anger was burning hotter than anything now. “You’re just lying there like you’re too cool to care about anything I’m saying.”

“You never let me get a word in, anyway.” he muttered, pushing himself off the bed, standing now, his hands running through his hair in frustration. His voice was rising, his usual calm demeanour completely unravelling. “I came all this way, and all I’ve done is sit here listenin’ to you complain about some arsehole I couldn’t give a shit about.”

“Well, maybe if you actually bothered to contribute to the conversation, I wouldn’t have to talk so much!” You stepped toward him, arms crossed tightly over your chest, eyes glaring into his. “And I didn’t ask you to come all this way just to mope around like you’re doing me some huge favour by being here.”

“I’m not moping. I’m just wonderin’ why the hell I even bother sometimes when I can’t even say one thing without you cuttin’ me off.”

“That’s not true.” you snapped. “You could’ve said something anytime.”

“I tried!” His voice was sharp now, the frustration fully breaking through. “But every time I open my mouth, you jump in with somethin’ else. You don’t want a conversation, you just want me to sit here and nod along like some fuckin’ idiot.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat, because a part of you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. But admitting that now, in the heat of the moment, felt impossible. Instead, your anger flared up again, the defensiveness taking over.

“You’re exaggerating.” you shot back, your voice tight. “I let you talk.”

“Do you?” His voice dropped to a lower, dangerous tone, his eyes burning into yours. “When? ‘Cause all I remember is you ramblin’ on and on about somethin’ you’re mad about, and the second I try to talk, you either cut me off or go on another tangent. You never actually listen.”

You stared at him, your chest rising and falling quickly as your heart pounded in your ears. His words stung, but they also made you want to scream. 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” you shot back, stepping even closer to him, your eyes blazing. “You never listen to me either! Every time I tell you something, you act like it’s beneath you or like you have better things to think about.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re always complaining about the same shit over and over again.” he snapped, his face inches from yours now. His voice was hard, cold, the frustration rolling off him in waves. “It’s the same story every time. Some bloke pisses you off, or some girl’s annoyin’, and I’m expected to sit here and listen like it’s the first time I’ve heard it.”

You felt your face heat up, and not just from anger. The way he said it, like your problems were trivial, made your blood boil. “Oh, I’m sorry that I have things in my life that aren’t perfect. Not all of us can be the lead singer of some band and have everything just work out.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you.” he sneered, his face tightening in anger. “You think everything’s so fuckin’ hard for you.”

The room seemed to freeze in place, the air between you thick and electric. Neither of you moved, both staring the other down, waiting for someone to make the next move.

“I’ve been workin’ my arse off for this band, and all I ever get from you is complaints about how I’m never around, or how I don’t care enough, but you don’t even try to understand it. You don’t get it.” His voice was raw now, cracking with the weight of it all. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“Well maybe if you actually talked to me instead of making everything about the band, I’d understand!” you shouted, your chest heaving with the effort to get the words out. “But you don’t! You shut me out and act like I’m supposed to just sit here waiting for you to decide you want to share something.”

He took a step back, sitting back on the bed, running both hands through his hair, gripping at it in frustration. “Because there’s no point talkin’ to you when you never listen. You prove that every fuckin’ time.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you shouted, eyes burning. “You think I don’t listen? You think I don’t try? You’re the one who shuts down anytime I try to have a real conversation with you.”

You both stared each other down like you were two seconds away from combusting. Alex’s chest was heaving, his face flushed with anger, his eyes sharp and dark with frustration. He wasn’t backing down, and neither were you. 

“Just- just shut the fuck up!” Alex finally snapped, his voice louder than you’d ever heard it, raw and biting. He swung his legs off the bed, standing up abruptly. He yanked off his jacket with an angry pull, the zipper catching slightly before he tore it off entirely. The jacket hit the floor in a heap, and he started pacing, his hands running through his hair again, tugging at the strands like he was trying to pull himself together.

“You can’t just tell me to shut up!” you fired back, stepping toward him. “I have every right to say what I’m feeling, especially since you’ve clearly been tuning me out this whole time!”

He stopped pacing for a second, glaring at you. ”Oh, yeah? Maybe if you didn’t go on about the same bloody thing every fucking time, I wouldn’t have to ‘tune you out’!”

“Don’t act like you’re some victim here!” you snapped. “You’re the one who’s been cold and distant, just lying there.”

“Cold and distant?” he spat back, his eyes narrowing, his pacing more agitated now. “For fuck’s sake, I came all the way over here to see you, and all I get is you ranting on about Evan.”

“You came here, but what’s the point if you’re not even here mentally?” you shot back. “You’re just here.”

“God, shut up!” He stopped dead in his tracks, whipping around to face you. His voice was low and dangerous now, like he was on the verge of losing it. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Just shut up for one minute!”

“No.” you spat. “I’m not going to shut up just because you can’t handle a real conversation.”

“God, you’re impossible!” He stormed over to you, closing the distance in two angry strides, his breath hot and ragged as he grabbed your face in his hands. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing against your cheeks, and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours, hard, heated, and urgent.

You gasped against his mouth, the fight draining from you in an instant as your brain short-circuited. The kiss felt almost punishing, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that left you no room to argue. For a second, you didn’t even know how to respond, your hands hanging uselessly by your sides, your heart racing like you’d been thrown into something you hadn’t expected at all. But then, instinct kicked in, and you kissed him back, hard, your fingers tangling into his hair, pulling him closer despite yourself.

Just as suddenly as it began, he pulled away, breathing heavily, his hands dropping from your face as he took a step back. You were left standing there, eyes wide and lips parted, your mind struggling to catch up to what had just happened.

Alex stared at you, his hands on his hips, his chest still heaving, a wild look in his eyes like he was barely holding on. “Finally…” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

Your brow furrowed as you tried to make sense of everything. “Finally what?”

“Finally, some fucking quiet.” he said, exasperation dripping from every word. His voice was quieter now, but the edge of anger hadn’t entirely left. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking up to meet yours as if daring you to argue with him.

The shock was starting to wear off, and the heat of the argument began to creep back into your chest. “Quiet? Quiet? That’s what you wanted?” you demanded, incredulous. “You think kissing me is going to shut me up?”

“Seemed to work, didn’t it?” He raised a brow, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, even though his eyes were still stormy.

Your face burned with indignation, and you took a step forward, poking a finger into his chest. “You think you can just kiss me to stop me from talking? You’re unbelievable, Alex!”

“And you never know when to stop talking,” he shot back, the smirk fading, his expression turning heated again. “you go on and on and never give anyone a chance to get a fuckin’ word in.”

“That’s because you never say anything worth listening to!” you spat, your voice rising again as the bickering started all over.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” he groaned, exasperated. He yanked his t-shirt over his head in one swift motion, throwing it somewhere behind him. The sight of his bare chest, the muscles in his arms flexing as he tossed the shirt, caught you off guard, but you had no time to react before he was on you again. His hands grabbed your waist, and in one swift move, he pushed you down onto the bed.

“Alex-” you started, but before you could get another word out, his lips were on yours again, silencing you with another kiss. He hovered over you, one knee pressing into the mattress beside your hip, his hands framing your face as he kissed you deeper, harder. 

You tried to push him back, to protest, but your body betrayed you as your hands gripped his arms, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to keep fighting. His body was warm and solid above yours, and the heat between you both was overwhelming. The cold air in the room was completely forgotten as his lips moved against yours, the weight of him pinning you to the mattress.

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his breath ragged, his hair falling messily into his eyes. “I can shut you up.” he whispered against your lips as he stared into your eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he kissed you again before you could speak, his body pressing down against yours, keeping you firmly beneath him. Every inch of you was buzzing with frustration, and the way his kiss was relentless, like he was determined to prove his point. His hands moved from your face down to your waist, fingers digging into you as he ground his body against yours. 

“You’re unbelievable.” you gasped between kisses. 

His lips curled into a smirk against your mouth. “Maybe I just know how to get what I want.” he murmured. 

Just then, he shifted his weight, and his hands slid under your tank top, pushing it up slightly as his fingers grazed your skin. He pulled back just enough to look down at you. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this.” He yanked your top down, exposing your skin to the cool air, the sudden chill contrasting sharply with the heat of his body hovering over you. “While you were busy talking about…fucking Evan.” He cupped your boob, fingers roughly squeezing as he kept your mouth occupied with his tongue. 

You responded in kind, your hands moving to his back, fingers curling into the waistband of his jeans. In a moment of reckless abandon, you pushed your hand down into his pants, fingers curling into the firm curve of his ass over his boxers. The movement drew a low moan from him, which vibrated against your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile against his as you felt him respond. 

“God, you’re driving me insane.” he breathed, pulling away slightly. “Do you have any condoms left?”

“No.” you managed to say. 

“Okay.” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Then we either risk it, or you blow me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, half in disbelief and half in amusement. “Is that really how you want to play this?”

“Just offering options here.” he shrugged, a grin creeping back onto his face, his bravado almost infuriating. “But if you’re not into either, I guess we just keep arguing.”

“Alex!” you protested, but even as you said it, your pulse quickened. 

He leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours. “What’s it gonna be? I’d rather not wait around if you want to keep arguing.” 

You bit your lip, torn between irritation and an undeniable pull toward him. “You really think you can just get me to do whatever you want?”

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I think I can convince you.” 

Every protest you had slowly melted away as you surrendered to the heat building between you, knowing you were both playing a dangerous game, but it was a game you were willing to continue, at least for now.

You pulled back slightly, catching his gaze. “You really want to risk it, huh?” 

Alex paused, his brow raised in challenge. “What can I say? I like living dangerously.” He shifted back, propping himself up on his elbows, clearly enjoying the power dynamics at play.

You leaned closer, a smile creeping onto your lips as you began to unbutton his jeans. The sound of the zipper made your heart race. There was an intensity in his gaze as you slid your hands into his jeans, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 

His breath hitched slightly as you pushed the denim down, exposing more of his legs. He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of anticipation and amusement, revelling in the thrill of the moment. “You’re feeling bold.” he remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I’ve always been bold.” you shot back, your confidence surging as you pushed his jeans down further, letting them pool around his ankles for him to kick off.

He laid back against the pillows, the fabric soft against his skin, and you could see the flicker of excitement in his eyes as he watched you. “What are you going to do now?” he challenged. 

You smirked, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines along his thighs, barely brushing against the hem of his boxers. “Just enjoying the view.” 

His muscles tensed under your touch and he shifted slightly, his breath hitching when your fingers grazed the sensitive skin just above his waistband. “That all you're going to do?” he asked, his tone almost taunting, but you could hear the underlying impatience.

You leaned forward, your lips hovering just above his stomach. “Maybe.” You could feel the way his body reacted to the proximity, every slight twitch, every subtle intake of breath. “Unless you're in a hurry for something.”

His hands fisted the sheets as you dragged your fingers along his waist, tracing maddeningly slow circles on his hipbones. His jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply, trying to maintain control. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, your lips brushing the edge of his boxers, dangerously close but not quite enough. His eyes were locked on you. “You love it.” you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the spot just below his navel. 

He let out a low, frustrated groan, his hips shifting slightly. “You’re really going to make me wait?” he asked. 

Your fingers trailed lower, teasingly slipping beneath the waistband for just a second before retreating, leaving him wanting more. His breath hitched again, and you could see the way his chest rose and fell, quicker now. 

“You’re torturing me.” he muttered, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he was enjoying every second of it.

“Just a little.” you replied with a grin, your lips brushing over his skin again, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses down his torso. 

“Don’t tease too much.” he murmured. 

You paused, looking up at him. “Teasing is half the fun, don’t you think?”

Alex let out a frustrated laugh, but the spark in his gaze was undeniable. “Nah, not now.”

“Just wait.” you said as you leaned in closer again. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, exposing him fully. His body tensed as the cool air hit his skin, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, expectant.

You could feel his impatience as you let your tongue flicker out, just the tip brushing against him in the lightest of touches. His hips twitched slightly, a frustrated sound escaping his throat. You smirked, continuing to tease, your mouth barely making contact, just enough to drive him crazy.

He growled low in his throat, his hand coming to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair with a firm grip. “Come on…” he muttered. “Don't play around. Suck it properly.”

The arrogance in his voice made you pause, lifting your head just slightly to meet his eyes. “So demanding.” you murmured, lips hovering above him. His jaw clenched, and you could see the way he fought for control, his fingers tightening in your hair.

He pushed his hips forward, trying to guide himself deeper into your mouth, but you held firm, teasing him with slow, lazy licks along his length. “I said,” he repeated, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed his hips toward you again, “suck it. You know how to. Come on, baby.”

“Patience.” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his tip before pulling away again, the smug look on his face wavering for just a second as you denied him the satisfaction of going further. 

His hand tightened in your hair, pulling slightly, his breath coming out in short, frustrated bursts. “Come on…” he grunted, but beneath it, there was an edge of frustration. His need for control was palpable, and the way you were pushing him to the edge without giving him what he wanted was clearly getting under his skin.

You gave him a look, your lips barely brushing against him again, not giving in yet. “What if I wanna take my time?” you asked, knowing how much it would push his buttons.

He let out a low, exasperated groan, his head falling back against the pillows as he tried to thrust into your mouth, but you pulled back just in time, leaving your mouth empty and him wanting. “For fuck’s sake.” he muttered, “Stop messing around and put that pretty mouth to work.”

His hand moved more firmly in your hair, trying to guide you back down, his cockiness only thinly veiling the desperation you could see in his eyes. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction just yet. You let your tongue trace slow, lazy circles around him, every now and then taking him just barely into your mouth before pulling away again. 

“You’re such a fucking tease.” he growled, his hips jerking upward again full of exasperation. “You’re pissing me off again.” 

Before you could retort, he flipped you over with surprising strength, pinning you beneath him. You gasped, caught off guard, and he wasted no time yanking your pants down, exposing your skin to the cool air. He pushed your top up, revealing your chest to him fully. 

“Alex-” you started, but he silenced you with a kiss, moving his lips down your body. He kissed his way down until he reached the waistband of your panties. 

He pressed a soft kiss against your covered cunt before pulling them to the side. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but there was an excitement coursing through you as he hovered over you, his presence overwhelming. 

Then, without warning, he plunged two fingers inside, the sudden fullness making you gasp. Your back arched instinctively, the sensation electric as he moved his fingers with confidence, finding that spot that made you shiver.

“Oh, no words now, eh?” he teased, a smirk on his lips as he watched your reaction. His fingers worked expertly, and the room filled with the sounds of your breaths and the rustle of the sheets beneath you.

You tried to gather your thoughts, to form some kind of response to his taunting words, but every time you opened your mouth, a moan escaped instead. Each time you tried to speak, another sound slipped free, your body betraying you.

“Come on.” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your ear. “Just enjoy it.”

As his fingers continued to thrust inside you, the slick sound filling the room, you felt him shift above you. His hips pressed down, and you realised with a start that he was rubbing his cock against your upper thigh, the hard length of him sliding against your skin. The friction was maddening, and you could feel the slickness building there, his arousal mingling with the sweat on your body. 

“Feel that?” he whispered as he rocked his hips, pressing himself harder against your thigh with each thrust of his fingers. You could feel just how desperate he was becoming. Yet still, he kept control, refusing to let go. 

You whimpered, your hips bucking. You could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, spreading through your limbs. “Look at you…” he taunted, his breath hot against your neck as he ground himself harder against you. “You can’t even handle it, can you?”

You moaned in response, your body tightening around his fingers as he continued his assault. Every time his hips thrust forward, his cock slid against your slick skin. The sounds he made, low, throaty grunts of satisfaction, only heightened everything. 

The smugness in his eyes was unmistakable as he watched you squirm beneath him, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm. “See?” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance as he rocked his hips again, the head of his cock brushing dangerously close to where his fingers were buried inside you. “This isn’t so hard, is it?”

You managed to catch your breath enough to respond, “You think this is easy for me? You’re driving me insane…”

He chuckled and picked up the pace, pushing you closer to the edge. “Good. I want you to feel it. You’ve been talking nonstop, so let’s see if I can make you speechless.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your body betrayed you, responding eagerly to every movement. “Like you could actually silence me.” 

“Oh, I think I can manage that.” he replied. 

“Is that a challenge?” you asked, half-laughing, half-breathless.

“Perhaps.” he said, his fingers curling just right. “But right now, I’m focused on you. You know you love it.”

“You’re really insufferable.” you managed to say between gasps.

“Only when I’m around you.” he shot back. “Seriously though, how’s it feel? You like this?”

“It’s-” You struggled to find the words as the intensity grew. “It’s good, Al. Just- don’t stop.”

“Good.” he said, his voice low and sultry. “I want you to remember this the next time you think about annoying me.”

You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he pushed deeper, his fingers curling just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. You were teetering on the edge, every thrust of his hips against your thigh, every curl of his fingers, sending you spiralling closer and closer to release.

He watched you with that same amused glint in his eyes, completely in control of your body, of the situation. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to keep you on the edge without letting you fall over it. “You want it, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice smug and teasing as his cock slid against you again, his slick arousal mixing with yours. “You can’t hold out much longer.”

You could feel it, the way your body trembled beneath him, the way your breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. “God, Alex, if you don’t stop talking, I swear-” you started, but your words trailed off as he increased the pressure, his fingers hitting that sweet spot again.

“Swear what?” he challenged, looking down at you. “You gonna tell me to shut up?”

“Maybe.” you gasped, the tension building to a breaking point.

“Not likely.” he grinned. “Let’s see how long you can last before you really can’t say anything.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his persistence. It was a dance of wills, a push and pull that left you craving more. His smirk was softer now, fading into something more focused, more intimate.

“Come on.” Alex murmured, voice rough but coaxing. His breath was hot against your neck, and his fingers curled in just the right way. “I can feel it. Just let go.”

You didn’t need much convincing. Your body was already giving in. You gasped as the pressure inside you built, your voice dropping into breathy moans you couldn’t suppress. You tried to hold back, remembering just how thin the dorm walls were, but it was impossible. 

“Alex, I’m-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence,, your body jerking in his grip as finished around his fingers, leaving you breathless, boneless, and trembling beneath him. 

He slowed his movements just enough to draw it out, making sure every last bit of pleasure wracked through you before he finally stopped. “Good girl.” he whispered, lips grazing your jawline, pride in his voice as if your release was as much his victory as yours. “Knew you’d let me make you come.”

Your chest rose and fell in heavy pants, your mind still spinning from the sensations coursing through your body. You gazed up at him, a smirk tugging at your lips despite the heat still thrumming under your skin. “You’re too smug for your own good.”

“Sure.” he replied, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his grin unmistakably cocky once again. There was a playful glint in his eyes, the arrogance almost dripping from him as he leaned in close. “Pretend you’re not a fan.” His lips brushed yours softly at first, the kiss tender and brief, before he pulled away just enough to murmur, “Now, it’s my turn.”

Before you could fully recover, he shifted, settling between your legs. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your still-sensitive skin, making you squirm beneath him. His movements were almost shaky now, the restraint in his body barely held together. His breathing was uneven, and there was a subtle tremor in his muscles that told you how close he already was. “You ready for me?” 

“I think I can manage.” you replied, trying to maintain your composure despite the way your body still trembled from the aftershocks of your own orgasm. 

He pushed into you at that. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your fingers immediately digging into his shoulders as your body arched beneath him. He felt impossibly good, the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely overwhelming your already sensitive body. 

“Fuck.” he groaned, his forehead dropping against yours as his body shuddered with the effort to keep moving. “You feel so good. I’m not gonna last long like this.”

You could hear the strain in his voice, and as his forehead pressed against yours, you brushed a hand up, your fingers running lightly through the damp strands of his hair. His skin was flushed, and when you pulled back just enough to see his face, it was written all over him. He was barely holding on. You laughed softly at his admission, your thumb brushing along his temple as you took in the sight of him. “Already?” you teased, though your own breath came in quick, shallow gasps. “You were just talking all that big game…”

He groaned again, this time with a note of frustration, his hips picking up a faster rhythm as he thrust deeper into you. His movements were erratic now, and the way his brow furrowed told you he was fighting to hold on. “Shut up, please.” he muttered, voice strained, the bravado slipping further. 

“Please?” you echoed, your grin widening as you ran your fingers lightly over his forehead. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and you could see the way his face contorted with pleasure, his muscles twitching as the sensations overwhelmed him. “You must really be-”

“Shut up.” he interrupted, his voice breaking as his control slipped entirely. His thrusts became more desperate, his body moving without thought now, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. His brow was furrowed deeply, and his jaw clenched as he gasped for breath. “I’m serious, I’m- fuck-”

His eyes flickered open for a moment, meeting yours, and then, just as he hit that point of no return, he pulled out, his hands fumbling as he gripped his cock. He stroked himself quickly. You watched, breathless. He hovered over you, his face twisted in pleasure, his mouth falling open as he let out a rough, broken groan.

He came hard, his body tensing above you as hot streaks of his release spilled across your stomach. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief moment, his expression was pure, unfiltered ecstasy. His lips parted, and your name slipped past them in a hoarse whisper torn from his throat. His body trembled as the last of it spilled from his cock, every part of him laid bare.

For a few long moments, he stayed there, body shivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his head bowed as he gasped for air. 

“Fucking hell.” he muttered as he collapsed next to you, his hand resting lightly on your hip. He turned his head, chest still heaving, and looked at you with a grin that was both satisfied and exhausted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, wiping a bit of sweat from your forehead. “That was quick.”

“I warned you.” he shot back, still catching his breath. 

His usual attitude was back, but his voice was softer now, like that vulnerability hadn’t fully faded, lingering in the small, cramped room. The space seemed even smaller now, with both of you sprawled across the tiny twin bed.

“Can you scoot over?” Alex groaned after a minute. “I’m about to fall off your tiny bed.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “Maybe if you didn’t take up so much space…”

“It’s not my fault your bed’s designed for hobbits.” he quipped, but he still shifted, giving you a bit more room instead. 

The room was warm, the sheets sticky beneath you, and everything felt overheated and suffocating. But in the best possible way.

“God, we’re so sweaty.” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “And everything’s…sticky.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” he replied, running a hand through his damp hair, which was sticking up in every direction. “But it was worth it.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh. “You say that now, but just wait until you have to do the walk of shame down the hall covered in sweat and…other things.”

He shot you a look. “I’m not walking anywhere until I get some sleep. I’m spent.” 

“You can’t just crash here.” you pointed out, though you weren’t exactly opposed to the idea. “What if my roommate comes back?”

He glanced at the door, then back at you. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully, though his body was already sinking deeper into the mattress, clearly exhausted. 

You shook your head, amused. “You’re insufferable.”

“I know,” he mumbled, “and you still love me.”

As the quiet settled over the room, the warmth of your post-coital haze was interrupted by a familiar, teasing touch. You felt Alex shift beside you, his fingers brushing lightly against your stomach where his cum still lingered, sticky and now cool.

He glanced at you with a lazy grin as he wiped the mess away with his fingers, then, without a second thought, wiped it down on the corner of the already tangled sheets.

“Gross, Alex.” you groaned, wrinkling your nose in mock disgust.

He raised an eyebrow, the grin never leaving his face. “What? You wanted me to leave it there?” His tone was so casual, so matter-of-fact, it made you laugh despite yourself.

“You could’ve, I don’t know, used a towel or something.” though you knew full well there wasn’t one within reach. Not in this tiny dorm, not with the haphazard way things were usually thrown around in the space you had to share.

He shrugged, unfazed. “Eh, too far.” Then, his expression softened, his teasing dropping away for a moment as he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I just wanna hug you and not get it all over me.”

You rolled your eyes at his excuse, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway. “Fine.” you sighed, your voice betraying your amusement.

“Fine.” he echoed, his tone matching yours, though his grip tightened slightly as he pulled you in closer. His chest pressed against your back, his warmth seeping into you as you nestled into the curve of his body, your legs tangling together under the sheets. 

“You’re such a mess.” you mumbled, not entirely sure whether you were talking about the situation or him in general.

“Yeah…but you love me.” he replied, his breath warm against the back of your neck, echoing his earlier words with the same easy confidence that made it impossible to argue with him. 

You smiled into the pillow, too comfortable and too content to offer a snarky retort. Instead, you let yourself relax into his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back a gentle reminder of the closeness between you. The room was quiet, except for the faint hum of the dorm heater kicking in despite not doing anything more than just filling the space with a soft hum that made you even more drowsy.

“You tired?” Alex asked after a while.

“A little.” you admitted, your body still humming with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened. 

“Grand.” he murmured, his fingers drumming a random pattern on your hip. “Means I did my job.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Always so proud of yourself.”

“Just callin’ it like I see it.” he said, a smile evident in his voice. He pressed a light kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment before he spoke again, softer this time. “But seriously…you okay?”

“Yeah.” you said, turning your head just enough to glance back at him. “I’m fine, Al.”

He gave you a small, satisfied nod, as if your answer was all he needed to hear. “Good.” he said, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Just making sure.” 

“You’re still gross, though.” you murmured sleepily, half-asleep already. 

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. “Yeah, well, I love ya.”

a/n: hope it’s decent, idk, based on this request

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[neuvilette-tea-party]

｡ﾟ•┈୨ Le temps de guérir Part 3 ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Steb x F!reader

Part 1 - Part 2

You almost have a heart attack remembering your mentor and secret crush is now your unfortunate roommate, what else life has in store for you now, heh? Probably nothing more, surely...

Tags: Angst/comfort, fluff, pining, Steb definitely has guilt and PTSD, slow burn, forced proximity, bed bugs, shared shower, inadvertently erotic contact, community, oh no! there was only one bed!

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You stretch with a grumble, feeling a headache approaching. You lay down your arms with a deep sigh, observing your bedroom, sniffing with the lack of order all around. Books, clothes, and a dirty plate on the ground. 

You have to clean all that... 

You yawn as you lazily go down your stairs, scratching your tummy, barely seeing in front of you with your eyes still full of sleep. You immediately head out to your kitchenette to prepare a well-needed warm coffee. 

You are in full zombie mode, in complete autopilot as you pour the water in and dose the beans. You yawn behind your hand as you lay against the counter waiting for the coffee maker to heat up when you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. 

You jump out of your skin and almost trip on your feet. 

“Dear...! Steb!” You shout, your heart sprinting in your ribcage like it would burst out any second, “Wha... Why are you here?!” You ask, flabbergasted. 

He freezes mid-signing like he doesn’t know how to explain what is evident while all comes back to you like a punch in your guts. 

The war, the kiss, the tension, the movie, your new roommate... 

You facepalm yourself as your heart calms down slowly. 

Dear gods, why did you have such a stupid idea? You berate yourself, hand on your knees 

Steb looks at you, not knowing how to help without worsening the situation. You feel him put his hand on your shoulder delicately, unsure. 

“It’s all right, It’s okay. I’m fine.” You temper with a thumb up, “Thank you Steb, it’s okay.” You stand back straight with a deep sigh, grounding you, “I’m fine, I promise!” You smile at him. 

He slowly nods, releasing your shoulder, a hand scratching his neck. 

“Have you been awake for a long time? Did you eat?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. 

“Oh Steb, you shouldn’t have waited for me like that. You’re at home here, you can rummage around and make your favorite breakfast, I don’t mind.” You explain, opening your cabinets, “What do you want? I can cook for you.” 

He immediately shakes his head and hands. 

“Taratatatatatata, mister. You are my guest, it’s my role to take care of you! I make killer chocolate chip pancakes, you’ll see!” You take out your large bowl and eggs. 

Steb immediately signs you his intention, before scratching his neck. 

“You don’t have to help, you know.”  

He sharply shakes his head, notifying you that he won’t back down. 

“Okay, okay, well... I don’t have chocolate chips anymore, do you mind cutting the chocolate tablets?” 

You both wash your hands and start working. 

You gulp, feeling yourself fidgety next to him. You give quick glances as he slices the tablet expertly with your big knife, clearly at ease with a blade. Your worktop is so small that you regularly hit each other elbows, creating knots in your stomach. 

Steb is unaware of your turmoil and is fully focused on his task to make the best chocolate shards ever! 

You whisk your dough until it is all shiny and liquid, mix everything, pour it into the hot pan with a cube of butter, and cook them. You flip them with your spatula when you notice Steb scratching his side with a wince, making you frown. 

You serve the golden pancakes on two plates while Steb takes some topping off the cupboards and you go to sit and eat. As you push Steb’s plate toward him you see him desperately scratching the back of his neck with gritted teeth. 

“Why are you scratching yourself like that?” You ask, looking at Steb scratching his arm. 

He shrugs but winces in clear discomfort, never stopping the scratching. You squint at him and gasp. 

“Steb! You are red all over!” You skirt the table to approach him and pull on the collar of the baggy shirt. 

Sure enough, his neck is reddish and swollen as he scratches so much, and spreads all over his arms and surely his entire torso. Rashes all over his beautiful green scales. He picks up something off his neck and examines it between his two fingers, squinting. 

His eyes round up and he jumps on his feet, grabs your hand, and pulls you on your feet, sprinting up the stairs. You can’t ask a single question he pushes you inside the bathroom with him and starts undressing before your very eyes. 

You look at him, not knowing what to do about all that or yourself. Once he stripped down to his boxers he turns to you with a serious gaze and approaches his hands from your clothes. You slap them away immediately. 

“What is this all about?” You demand. 

You’re not about to let him undress you like that! Not without a nice drink first! 

He looks dead serious as he signs. 

“Zaunites bed bugs?!” You choke. 

No need to tell you twice, you start undressing at once!  

Disgusting little bugs! 

Steb opens your buttons, helping you out before you throw all the clothes in the washer and turn it to the maximum temperature. 

You are now both practically naked in the same cramped room. But frankly? You can’t give a crap, those critters are a real nuisance! 

Steb grabs your arm and enters the tub, pulling you with him. He seizes the shower head and blasts you with fuming hot water. You sit on your ankles as he visibly knows how to treat the problem and lets him soak you, he scrubs your hair vigorously to drown the disgusting little bugs. 

Yurk! 

You feel his large hand traveling your body as he searches for the nasty critters, hearing a low growl emanating from the aquatic Vastaya behind you.  

You are not especially knowledgeable on bugs, but each year Piltover and Zaun have an invasion of the creatures, and outside of devouring any fabrics of a house, they spread a lot of blood diseases, sometimes mortal ones... 

You mentally slap yourself as you realize your undergarments are now see-through... That became a habit quickly, huh?  

Steb turns the water off and makes you spin towards him, pulling you back on your feet. You try with more or less success to modestly cover yourself but his eyes are so deadly focused, like during your missions together, you understand that he does not realize the situation himself! 

His mind is focused on getting rid of any bug on your skin right now. 

He frowns, turning your face at every angle, his ears shaking in anger. He lowers himself before you as he inspects your chest, your tummy, and your legs, pinching the skin here and there. His face is right at the same level as your groin region.  

You gingerly cover the region as naturally as you can, but as a perfectly professional Medic, Steb doesn’t register that detail, fully focused on his medical task. 

He manipulates your limbs with great precaution, his ocean eyes scanning your exposed skin like a robot. 

You do not disturb him in his task, only fidgeting your fingers. It turned weird really fast, exactly as you predicted! You reject him, invite him to live with you, watch an erotic movie, and end up practically naked together in the same tub... 

If the god playing with you could take a five minutes break, you would appreciate... 

He finally nods to himself and helps you get out of the tub. You take out a clean towel and scrub your body after checking it while Steb repeats the operation on himself, blasting fuming water on his scales. 

He took you by such surprise it did not occur to you to tell him that you did not feel itchy at all... But better safe than sorry! 

Coughing, you open the window for fresh air and for the steam to escape. You rummage through your cabinet until you find an old lemon perfume. 

The lemon and the alcohol repel those little monsters and you vaporize it all over your exposed body. 

You try to put some in your back when Steb exits the tub and comes to help. He takes the bottle and gently applies a layer on your back, delicately massaging the skin with the perfume. 

“Thank you. Turn around, I’ll do your back!” You announce, agitating a pair of tweezers. 

Steb sits on his ankles on the ground as you kneel behind him, tracing his scales to find the parasites. Those little bastards love nudging themself between two layers of scales, you take out five sipping well-hidden but dead, fortunately. 

You meticulously inspect his large back, moving his back fins around delicately like a paper sheet but each time you brush them a strange shudder shakes his shoulders, his chest trembling slightly. It must still be sensitive after his wounds, you press your lips.   

“I think it’s go-Oh my Lord they are some in your gills!” You notice as you inspect his back neck. 

You trace one gill to slightly open it but Steb grabs your hand, his breath short, squeezing it lightly. 

You have like a deja vue sensation. 

He releases your hand with a short breath, the tip of his ears trembling, and starts signing. You gulp as the ground opens up under you. Fins and gills are erogenous zones for aquatic Vastayas, and you’ve been manipulating them around while Steb had to take it all silently. 

“Thank you for telling me straight, Steb. I’ll be cautious.” You promise. 

5 minutes, JUST 5 MINUTES for goodness sake! 

The good news is that the water drowned and burnt most of the critters on his body so they come without difficulties. You delicately pull out the last ones, mindful of his gills and fins all over his body, and spray him down with the lemon perfume while he gulps, still tensed after that unfortunate erotic contact. 

You hand him a towel and he pats himself gently before wrapping it around his waist, skin still bruised and reddish but his expression is appeased. 

You sit down, wrapped in your towel and he imitates you, both catching your breath. 

“Damn bugs!” You let out. 

Steb nods slowly, a thin smile appearing on his lips and then gently chuckles. You look at him with a raised eyebrow as he rubs his face with his hands, throwing his head backward as his large shaken by his laugh, and after an instant you join him, unable to refrain from your own giggling. 

Really, nothing will be spared to you two! 

You both finish with a deep sigh, your feet grazing. 

“God damn...” You grin, more amused than worried now. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

You close the living room door and lock it with the key. 

“All right, we don’t have a sofa bed or a kitchen for the next 48 hours for the product to take effect.” You announce. 

Steb nods, back in his enforcer uniform that has been spared in the bathroom. 

No upper room has been touched by the critters and everything seemed to have come from your old sofa bed. 

The invasion was quite early, still! 

“No more movies too.” 

He shrugs with a lopsided grin. 

“I don’t know you but I'm fed up with that house for now, let’s get outside!” 

He nods eagerly and you pass on a coat end exit your nest to discover Piltover under a thin drizzle. You smile as you see Steb twitching his ears and opening his gills wide in the mist. You nudge him and you head up wherever your steps decide to guide you. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Dear gods...” You let out. 

Your steps guided you to ruins. 

Steb’s house ruins to be more precise. 

Nothing is left, all walls are down, no furniture survived, and it is only a hill of rubble. 

Steb walks among the rest of his past with a closed but calm expression while you feel on the verge of tears. 

This is... so unfair. 

He did so much more than you, so why is he the one who lost everything? 

You walk among the fragments of walls and roof scattered everywhere at a loss for words. You cough with the impressive amount of dust around, detailing the pure waste of all of this is... 

An entire life 

Disintegrated in a matter of minutes... 

You take another step and lower your gaze as you hear the sound of glass, realizing that you stepped on a picture frame. You crouch to grab the picture delicately, discovering who you think is a younger Steb between two adults Vastaya, smiling brightly at the camera. 

The frame is ruined but the picture itself is miraculously intact, like a small miracle. 

You admire this instant of happiness suspended in time itself with a fond smile, discovering a tight, united family. 

You approach Steb who just managed to pull out the parts of a destroyed electronic piano from the debris. You hand him the picture with a reassuring smile and he takes it, almost apprehensively, and admires it, his cheek scales waving intensely. He stands back up, eyes still fixed on the pictures as he gulps, almost like he is about to cry. 

You look at him a bit worried but no tears roll down, he only fixes the smiles on the paper, eyes foggy with emotions. 

“Hey! HEY! You! The enforcer! Come here!” A displeasing voice rises up behind you. 

Steb does not move like paralyzed by the photo. 

“Come here right now!” 

You snarl and spin to discover an angry man with a woman following him, worried. You slide down the rubble and approach, frowning. 

Now is not the time! 

“Not you! The enforcer!” He dismisses you with a gesture of the hand like you were nothing. 

You sniff and take out your enforcer badge. 

“I am an enforcer. What do you want?” 

“We want all the persons responsible for all of this!” He gestures to the destroyed neighborhood, “All the houses have been destroyed or pillaged, we saw none of you come to help us during the battle and now nobody came to help us rebuild! What are you doing exactly?!” 

“We are doing what we can, sir. The building teams will be here shortly!” 

“We’ve been served that charade for 3 weeks! And we see no one coming! What are we supposed to do, grab you all by the collar for you to finally do your job?” 

“Sir, please calm down-” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, I have children, we are abandoned. What do you plan to do to help us? Or do you intend to only rebuild the neighborhood of the nobles?” 

“Everyone will receive help, no one will be left behind.” 

“We’ve been left behind decades ago. You enforcers are here to protect the money of the upper crust and walk all over us! What did you two do during the war? Huh!? Anything?! You did something, enforcer?!” He shouts at Steb on top of the fuming remains of his house. 

“Sir! If you want to scream at someone, I am right here!” You make a barrage with your own body, blocking the enraged man, “Leave him in peace, he needs time.” 

“OH? Oh, he needs time, does he?! What a luxury, I can’t afford that luxury! I lost my house! Can he even understand that?” 

“Yes, Sir, he can very well. This is his own house in ruins right here. Believe me, he understands perfectly your situation. We have a lot of teams working, someone will come and help. You need to trust me.” 

“To trust?! Do you hear yourself?! We... We...” He stops shouting, voice overflowed by tears, breaking down in front of you. 

The woman circles his shoulders to press him tight while your throat dries out. 

What to say? 

You have nothing to say to soothe such a wound, to appease such a trauma. All of those lives ruined, how many will truly be able to rebuild solid foundations and move on? 

“Please...” The woman quietly says raising her eyes to you, “Just... Tell us Piltover didn’t forget about us.” 

“No Ma’am. Piltover did not forget about any of its citizens. Ste... My colleague is in contact with someone really high up in the Kiramman family, he can plead for teams to be redirected toward you. We will do everything we can to help everyone, but it takes a lot of time.” 

She lowers her gaze pensively and nods, taking the man still crying away to leave you alone. 

You look at them walking away from you with a bitter taste in your mouth. 

You are sure Piltover’s efforts will be redirected toward those neighborhoods... At some point. 

But when? 

A week? Several? 4 months? 2 years? 

You bury your hands in your coat’s pocket with a gulp, feeling a bit dirty, and spin back toward Steb, still on the top of the rubbles. 

He slightly turns his head in your direction as he hears you approach and hurriedly wipes something off on his cheek and folds the pictures to put it in his chest pocket as you finally reach him. 

His breath comes back to normal but his eyes are swollen and red, looking in the distance. 

He turns to you with a very tight smile and moves his hands into a question. 

“They... They just wanted some information.” 

He tilts his head and asks again. 

“Yes, you may be able to help them in fact. But not now... We are here for you.” You gently smile, looking into his swollen eyes. 

He shortly nods, blinking his third eyelids. 

But you know... Deep down he feels useless and responsible. He still did not explain to you what happened, but he wears the weight of his regrets on his face with low ears and shoulders. 

You take his shoulder with your hand and squeeze it as he did so much for you under his tutelage when doubts were swarming you. 

“Hey... I am here with you. We will surpass all of that, together. Okay?” 

His smile reappears shortly as his ears shake quickly. 

“I am not abandoning you now. Come on! I’m sure there are still some memories buried under the  rubble, we are not leaving with empty hands, I promise you!” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

“I did not know you played violin!” You exclaim, pressing the family pictures book against your chest as you walk towards the Grand Park. 

Steb readjusts the strap of the violin case on his shoulder as he explains. 

He has been playing the violin since early childhood, his parents wanted him to get into a group of friends the same age after they moved into Piltover. Apparently, baby Steb was quite shy and preferred the company of books and adults. 

You give him a side look. 

Evidently, seeing his house destroyed again weight on his mind, but he is evidently happy to have found the book intact, protected by a bookcase that fell just around it, and his face illuminated when you triumphantly lifted the violin case out of the debris with a stupid victory dance. 

It will never be enough, but it is something at last... 

His hand doesn’t release the strap of the case, holding it firmly like he was afraid it would disappear all of a sudden like the rest. The case is a bit dusty and bumpy but the violin is untouched, thank the Gods. 

Steb suddenly stops before a building, making you turn to him with questions. 

“A hotel?” 

He nods with swift signs. 

“Yes, you can’t sleep on the sofa for two days, but I’m not kicking you out.” You explain as you approach him with a confused frown, “You can still sleep in the house.” 

He tilts his head, asking. 

“Well, my... Bed.” It downs on you as you say it out loud. 

But your bed is the last place to sleep in your little house. 

His throat muscles tighten as his turquoise eyes round-up with the surprise. 

You press your lips in a thin line, fidgeting your fingers. 

Yep, yep, yep... 5 minutes of peace right? 

But you can’t just kick him out to a hotel like that? All his stuff are at your place. 

“Listen. We shouldn’t spread the bugs more than they already invaded the city. It’s only a matter of two nights.” 

He tilts his head left and right, debating the rights and wrongs of that situation. 

“You don’t even know the state of the rooms in that hotel, most of them may be destroyed and you still need a workstation.” You close the matter. 

You spin away to let him see the fire spreading in your cheeks, heating up like crazy. 

He follows you diligently as you pass the gates of the Grand Park of Progress and realize a lot of people are here.  

“Ah! I think there is a shelter nearby!” You remember. 

A lot of families with children are here, looking exhausted but with small smiles, simply happy to be able to enjoy the park for one hour or two and get some fresh air. Parents look tenderly at their kids coursing each other and sliding down the slides or swaying on the swings. 

A small moment of peace. 

There is even a small merchant of ice cream back in business! 

You both sit down on a bench, Steb wrapped his enforcer jacket around his hips for more anonymity and you simply observe the passersby, inhaling the fresh air with some relief. You look at the children running around and laughing with a smile and turn your head as you hear a baby crying not far away. 

You jump on the bench as you hear a squeaky sound right next to you and see Steb adjusting the cords of his violin, tightening them before trying again, repositioning his long fingers. 

A long, clear note rises in the sky as he slides his bow gently on the cords. 

You silently admire him as he tests his instrument with different positions, different notes ringing deliciously in the air. He looks so focused, his hands and fingers moving along the instruments with fineness, like a caress, creating magnificent sounds. 

He turns his eyes to you as he feels your insistent gaze on him, his gaze traveling between you and the violin in a silent question. You immediately raise your hand in an appeasing manner. 

“I don’t mind at all! I love music, it’s great being able to see a musician this close!” You invite him to continue. 

He nods, a bit relieved, and straightens his back as he clears his throat, laying the bow on the cords and making it slide again. 

He starts an infinitely tender melody you never heard before but would suit a lullaby wonderfully. You listen, eyes fixed on your mentor, gently cradling yourself to his music. 

It is beautiful and also terribly sad. 

When you listen to that melody you feel like listening to a tragedy, a story full of hope that will never have a good ending no matter the efforts to correct fate. 

You gulp as you feel your throat contracting under rising tears. 

This is the kind of sadness you can deal with and revel in, a cathartic emotion created by a skillful artist to alleviate everyone’s heart once the tragedy ends. 

A moment of elegance and refinement. 

Even the wind subdued just enough to carry the notes farther without drowning them. 

You sigh, transported so far away from your mortal body, like you were on a new plan. 

A magical plan, where music notes and heartbeats are the same, creating a powerful symphony of vibrant memories and dreams. A silent tear rolls down your closed eyes as you let yourself submerged by the emotions Steb creates with his skillful hands. 

You think even the baby stopped crying, soothed by the soft melody. 

You gasp, taking a shaky breath as Steb makes his cords resonate a last time as the melody ends. 

It was... Marvelous, gut-wrenching, and you needed it you realize. 

You reopen your eyes as you feel a knuckle caressing your cheek, discovering Steb wiping a tear off your skin with concerned eyes on you. 

You cannot help but smile his way, your heart a little bit lighter thanks to him.  

You sigh and look around, realizing several people joined in a circle around your bench to listen to Steb’s music. 

“You have fans, superstar.” You grin at him. 

His ears shake with a rosy shade spreading on his cheeks. He must not be used to have a large audience. 

“Hey!” A voice rises, commanding both of your attentions. 

A human woman and another Vastaya, a canine one, break the circle with a flute and a djembe to come closer. 

They are more probably Zaunites than Piltovians, judging by their clothes. 

“A jolly folly, you know this one?” She asks. 

Steb nods and stands up. 

“One, two, thee...” She counts down. 

And they start a new melody, much more joyful and rhythmic. A lot of people start clapping in rhythm, familiar with the music, some grab a partner and start swaying together. You snap your fingers as you bob your head up and down, your feet twitching with the desire to dance. 

The three musicians harmonize together as the crowd grows more and more, captivated by the joyful music. 

Desperate for just a moment of frivolity. 

The tempo wins over Steb he taps his foot and tilts his bust left and right with playfulness as the flutist bobs up and down with him, a smile wrapped around the flute’s head.  

Everyone around you dances in some way, with partners or alone. Several couples start swinging with impressive mastery as others just sway their arms together. 

A large round dance around the musicians starts to form and someone grabs your hand to invite you in. 

You all strut around them in a circle, raising your arms in a hola with loud laughs. You cannot help but laugh yourself, holding on to the two persons’s hands while you spin, focused on Steb playing his violin. 

He is really good you came to realize. The temp is very fast and you don’t think you hear any false notes coming from him. 

The other two are really good too! They have evidently been playing for long years and it shows. 

Steb and the woman stop, letting the percussionist throw himself in a frenzied solo with big smiles on their faces, abandoning themself to the art. 

It culminates in a grand final with high, quick notes and a furious tempo making you want to dance until the end of the night! 

No matter what happened, Piltover is still here, still standing! 

And you are all still alive! 

The last notes resonate under the applause and the shouts of the audience that grew exponentially during the piece. You clap your hands hard, breathless, and heads spinning while Steb nods and shakes hands with the two Zaunites, happy about this fleeting moment.  

He passes back the case in his back, grabs the book, and heads towards you as the two musicians start a new music with an enthusiastic public. He nods and waves to people patting his shoulder, thanking him for his talent. 

You both rejoin, pantless and a bit sweaty, but definitely happier. 

“It was really, really good, Steb! You have a real talent.” You try to catch your breath, hands on your hips while he humbly accepts your praise with a nod and shaking cheek scales. 

“Come on, I’ll pay you an ice cream for your performance!” You giggle. 

You walk along the bank of the Park’s lake, licking your ice cream cones with childish delight. It is much less crowded around here, much more peaceful and calm. 

You sit down on a new bench, facing the lake where ducks gently swim, a couple of swans just a little farther. You let out a deep satisfied sigh, contemplating the view. 

“If you want to take a dive, I'll hold your cone.” You teasingly propose. 

Steb chuckles as he bites down his ice cream, his gills wide open to take as much fresh air as possible. You chuckle with him as the sun slowly starts to go down, painting the sky in pink and mauve shades. 

“This is beautiful...” You let out, admiring the scenery. 

Steb nods slowly with a deep breath. 

“I love this city... Despite all of its failures and defaults.” You admit, nodding to yourself. 

He spins his head towards you, tilting it with questions. 

“Okay... I don’t like everything! There are some aspects that can be improved. A lot. But still. There are worse places to live in.” 

He nods, biting down his ice cream again like the cold is only a minor inconvenience on his teeth. 

“Say... I think I saw you with sharp teeth in the picture, as for your parents? What’s up with that?” You ask curious. 

Steb was raising his cone to his mouth again but stopped, putting his hand back down, his shoulders lowering a bit with his ears. 

“... Steb?” You ask in a murmur  

He licks his teeth pensively and lets out a deep sigh, his free hand rolling into a fist, gripping the fabric of his pants. 

He purses his lips, hesitating. 

“Forget it, Steb... I am sorry, I should not have asked.” You take his hand rolled in a fist and gently squeeze it. 

His gaze lowers to your hands and then raises to meet yours, a lot of emotions raging and battling in his turquoise gaze. You frankly smile at him. 

You press yourself against him and lay your head on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. 

“We’ll see the end of the tunnel at some point... I am sure of it. I promise to be at your side at that moment.” You declare, nudging your cheek against his shoulder. 

You hear him gup, but, 

Slowly 

He lays his head on top of yours. 

You both remain silent, observing the setting sun disappearing behind Piltover’s buildings, the Swan couple taking off together to disappear, flying through the sky. 

You close your eyes, breathing deep, feeling Steb’s warmth sipping through your skin as his musk slowly reaches your nose. 

He smells pretty good! 

You reopen your eyes in a flash when you feel Steb’s finger on the corner of your mouth. He takes it off immediately, showing you the cream you had smeared over yourself that he just whipped off. 

His lips wrap around his thumb to suck on the cream and you observe that action with a strange fascination. 

You sigh, placing your head back on his shoulder. 

How will you survive this love, you wonder 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

“Home sweet home!” 

You close and lock the door after Steb with a sigh of relief. You just finished eating your take-outs under Piltover’s starry sky and now you need a good night’s sleep. 

You see your closed living room door and sigh deeply again. 

Ah yes... You forgot that little detail. Well, that is rock bottom for the both of you, nothin worse can happen now! 

You lazily open your coat as you start climbing your stairs with a yawn. 

You stop dead in your tracks with a cold realization. 

Your room 

Is in a fucking mess 

You cannot let Steb see all of that! 

Steb turns to you in surprise when you start sprinting up to your room. 

You barge through your bedroom in a panic, it looks even worse than this morning! You grab the dirty plate and put it in your bathroom sink, you have no better options for now! 

What worries you the most are all the bras and panties lying around waiting for laundry day. 

You crawl onto your floor in a panic, gathering them into your arms when you hear Steb’s peaceful steps climbing the stairs and approaching your bedroom. You roll them all in a ball and stand up in a hurry in front of it when gentle knocks resonate at the door. 

“Don’t enter, it’s a bit of a mess!” You try to sound as relaxed and unbothered as possible, kicking the clothes under your bed. 

A silence occurs before you hear him walking away to the bathroom. You scrutinize your room like a robot to locate all the garments you missed and gather them in a hurry when Steb opens your door making you jump and spin towards him. 

He holds the dirty dish with a confused expression. 

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, huh...” You hide the laced panties you hold behind your back with an innocent expression, “My kitchen sink is broken and I have to do my dishes in the bathroom sink until the repair man arrives.”  

He tilts his head, considering the plates before signing with one hand. 

“Don’t feel obligated to look at it, Steb, you are my guest!” You object. 

He starts signing again but he slows down discovering the mess of books and clothes all over until his gaze stops on a laced bra lazily hanging onto your mirror.  

“Ah!”You jump and take it off hurriedly, hiding it behind your back too “Get out please!” You demand with a high-pitched, hurried tone, “I need to put some order back to this room!” 

He looks at you, a little gauche and embarrassed, and closes the door behind him. 

You growl and throw the two undergarments under your bed.  

You crouch and pile up your books, lifting them, and leave your bedroom to enter your small office to tidy everything. You glance at your workstation while you put your books back. You’ll need to give your key to Steb for him to fill forms. 

You hear the sound of water in your bathroom and as you go back to your room Steb exits it with his toothbrush in his mouth and a plate now clean. 

“I told you you were the guest here.” You grumble; 

He shrugs and hands you the plate while brushing his teeth vigorously. You put it back on the table in your bedroom for now and quickly tidy up the room. You search for new male clothes around, but this was the last shirt apparently. 

You only find pants.  

Steb doesn’t formalize himself and passes them on in the bathroom while you put on your pajamas in your room. It’s not perfect but it’s not shocking you judge observing the state of the bedroom. 

You brush your teeth and head to bed. You discover Steb reading the back of the book on your nightstand, bare chest. You gulp as you notice how large his shoulders truly are... You were not really in the headspace to notice all of those details that day under the tent... 

And suddenly it downs on you again. 

You’re going to sleep in the same bed as your mentor who tried to kiss you. You gulp. It is technically a double bed, it’s just on the smaller side, a bit cramped for two. 

Steb raises his head at you with a tight smile, his cheek swales waving lazily like he is... pleased. His eyes are unreadable outside of some softness in the gaze. He show you the book and signs. 

“Oh... Yes, it’s a good book.” You nod, “I can lend it to you once I finish it.” 

He nods enthusiastically and his fins tremble harder, happy. 

You mentally sigh once you are both under the cover, at a respectful and modest distance from each other. Of course. 

Steb looks pretty relaxed all things considered. He has been pretty casual with you during this entire day. Clearly he doesn’t trouble himself like you do. 

Maybe his former shyness and embarrassment are more the products of shame for having tried to kiss you of all people than some sort of hidden mutual fondness, you come to realize. 

Piercing your heart.  

You really need to wake up and stop dreaming, you are clearly not on the same page! 

He turns his head to you and nods with a tight grin, and you turn off your bedside lamp. 

And darkness and silence swarm you. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Steb grips the cover, digging his nails into the fabric trying to remain calm and composed. 

He feels your warmth waving though his sensitive Vastaya skin, mercilessly reminding him that you are next to him 

So 

So close 

To him. 

He rubs his face with his hands, sighing to himself.  

How did it come to that? How did everything cumulate in this very situation? 

He contemplates the ceiling through the darkness, his hand in his hair. Every time he closes his eyes, he feels the ghosts of your gentle hands manipulating his supersensitive fins back in the bathroom, sending his heart into a frenzy. 

Those thin undergarments becoming see-through once wet. 

This laced bra laying around. 

He had to lock himself in the bathroom and splash his face with cold water to remain composed. He had to fight back the visions of you in this laced bra, squeezing and rounding up your... enticing breast. 

He gulps, listening to your calm and deep breath. 

He can almost hear your heartbeat. 

He wishes he could nudge himself in your warm embrace to hear them both better...  

Like when you laid your head so casually on his shoulder. He was so surprised and did not know what to do, he thought you were still angry at him until that moment. 

But maybe not? 

You touched him so causally that he felt emboldened to wipe your lips clean of the cream, but he could not make sense of the gaze you gave him. 

He discreetly slides his hand under the cover until he can graze yours and gently 

Secretly 

Lock your pinkies together. 

Feeling his heart pumping harder. 

He sighs again, slightly appeased by that secret contact, and closes his eyes to sleep with you. 

In your own bed

@aecarstairs @wiltyard @sanktastuff @mahirublue @chocalycake @rositabluemoon @blackwoodwinter @archangel1206 @marshallowy @crimson23capricorn @m0na-lis4 @chjopchjop @editedjeans @joshuhaos @dulcecita-luzita @cyberneticfrk @nottherealamber @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @sadlycerenity

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after finding the courage and the balls to ask you out, Peter couldn't help but test the waters.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNINGS ୨୧ dub/non consensual (reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any. MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs

Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.

The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.

Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.

He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.

Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.

He wanted you.

Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.

The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.

Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.

"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?

Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good

As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?

But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?

I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.

Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?

That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.

But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.

He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.

He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.

What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?

He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.

But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.

He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.

What if you didn't reply?

What if you did?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"

He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.

For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.

What happens next?

"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"

He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.

Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.

"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.

Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.

"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.

"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.

"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"

Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"

The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.

"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"

He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."

May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"

"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."

By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"

"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone

"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”

May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."

Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"

"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.

Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.

Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."

"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.

"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."

Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.

May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."

Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."

So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"

Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"

He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.

What if this is a mistake?

But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.

And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

There you were.

"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."

Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."

You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.

Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.

“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”

Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"

"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.

Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.

You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.

When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.

Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.

The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.

But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.

This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.

As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.

He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.

"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.

The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.

The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.

Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!

"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"

"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."

You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."

He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.

Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.

Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.

"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"

"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"

"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"

Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."

You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"

"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."

"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."

Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."

That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.

“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”

Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”

“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.

Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.

There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"

You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"

"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."

"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.

'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.

Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"

You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."

Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.

But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.

Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.

“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.

You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”

The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.

By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.

“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”

The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"

Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"

"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."

Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.

After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.

It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.

However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.

"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"

He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.

"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''

You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.

"I think that's really admirable, Peter."

That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.

Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.

"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."

But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."

But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"

You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.

The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.

So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.

"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.

After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.

"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."

You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."

Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."

As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.

"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.

You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.

"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.

Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.

"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"

You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.

Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.

Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.

"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.

Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.

"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.

"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."

You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.

Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."

His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.

"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."

Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"

Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.

"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.

"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."

His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.

"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit

You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth

This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.

He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.

He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.

He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.

Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.

Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.

One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.

You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.

Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.

As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.

Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.

Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.

Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.

Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.

His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.

You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.

"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.

"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"

He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.

You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered

The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.

Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.

He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"

Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch

Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"

He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.

Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.

"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me