#they were LITERALLY knee deep in the passenger seat like

[theofficialpresidentoftheusa]

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury…………they fucked in that Honda odyssey……I rest my case thank u

[oepionie]

— "THE PRINCESS TREATMENT." various

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend and the different ways he pampers and spoils you rotten ♡

⊹ [ cw ] — mentions of winter storms, prefect is implied to have bad living conditions, mild violence in the tweels parts, jade breaks someone's wrist, crowley slander, ace slander◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFFY! feminine reader! no gendered pronouns used, riddle uses his dorm position to spoil you, seeing trey driving is very hot, deuce biceps, leona and azul sugar daddy era, ruggie would rather freeze to death than have you be cold, jack carries you, jade and floyd will fight for you, rook makes you his muse and paints you, malleus renovates the entire diasomnia dorm for you, sebek carries your pink handbags◞

⊹ [ characters ] — riddle, trey, deuce, leona, ruggie, jack, azul, jade, floyd, rook, malleus, sebek◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 4.9k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

—♰ RIDDLE

Princess treatment, Like—literally

Loathe is Riddle to admit—He can't deny the fact that being his lover meant you got special treatment. Prime example being your position at unbirthday parties. At the banquet table, just beside Riddle's designated throne, was your throne. Similar in style, it had a heart-shaped crest and golden frame; the only difference was that it was milky white rather than deep red. And despite his best efforts to downplay the favoritism shown to you, Riddle knows for a fact that he had the throne commissioned himself.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Come with me." The dorm leader says as he moves towards you, leading you towards your throne. He didn't fail to notice how your legs shook slightly as you walked alongside him or how your hands didn’t leave his coat once. Not that he minded.

The redhead clasped your hands in his as he sat you down onto the leather seat before adjusting the train of your dress to ensure that it wouldn't bother you.

"How are you fairing?" Riddle asked softly, kneeling before you to slip a leather-clad hand behind your knees. He set your feet up on a plush stool and slipped your pointed heels off, gently caressing your ankles. "I overheard you earlier, griping about your feet aching. I certainly hope you're not pushing yourself too hard."

"Ah, no. I just chose the wrong heels today. They're too pointy." You sighed, poking at your crimson red heels, which were discarded to the grassy sides. Groaning, you reclined back on your throne, the billowing, fluffy skirt of the dress Riddle had recently gifted tumbling all about you.

"I see." Riddle nodded in understanding, taking your hand and pressing a quick gentlemanly kiss on your wrists. "The croquet game is up next. I suppose you'd rather stay here?"

"Yeah, I think I need some alone time," you sigh. Riddle squeezes once more your hand in reply, letting his eyes shut in contemplation.

"Very well," He hums, moving to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "Do rest here a while, rose."

There was a soft smile as the leather of his hands glide across your back. "Oh, and, please let a member of my dorm know if you ever need anything. Worry not. I've instructed everyone here to be at your beck and call."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ TREY

Passenger princess treatment<3

Every weekend, it was routine for Trey to whisk you away from your beaten-up dorm. After all, he was sure it was nice to spend the day in a place where you weren't inhaling dust and spiders every second. Both of you would always go over to his parent's café in the city for a simple little brunch date. And without fail, Trey would always pick you up at 9am sharp by the school gates.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"… I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?"

Soft music played from the car's radio as the third-year weaved through the barren intersections, careful and slow. It seems as if the roads were merciful to you both today, calm and free of any traffic.

Trey languidly reaches one of his hands, calloused from his years of baking, over to rest gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs soft circles and nonsensical patterns over your plump skin while the other gripped the steering wheel in a loose hold, biceps flexing as he twisted the wheel to turn the car.

Focused as he was, you didn't miss how his gaze flits back and forth between the road and you, the expression swimming within them almost akin to a distant longing.

You place your hand atop his and lean against the passenger door. A wide grin spreads over your glossy red lips as you shake your head playfully. "Keep your eyes on the road."

Mirthful laughter spills from your mouth before your eyes flutter shut as you sway along to the song, mindlessly kicking your legs around. "Crashing and going to the hospital doesn't really sound like a good date idea."

A pensive smile creeps up on Trey's face, and he lets out a low chuckle. "Yeah? I just can't help it. You're a much more interesting sight."

He watched as the sun's dazzling light bathed your image in a beautiful, pleasant glow. To him, you looked ethereal, seemingly glowing and shining under the golden streaks of sunlight that pour through the windshield.

"What did I just say?" you sighed, smiling cheekily as you smoothed a hand over his clover-colored hair, fixing the stray strands moved askew by the wind from the open windows. "Hello~? Wonderland to Trey? Eyes on the road?"

He paused for a while before chuckling, his hands splaying out on the steering wheel as he turned his gaze back front. "Right, right. I'll be careful, princess."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  DEUCE

Carries your things for you and will not let you do any heavy lifting at all plus he buys you drinks!

Screw Crowley Dire. You were sick of Ramshackle's awful, scratchy furniture. For once, you wished you could sit on something that wasn't littered with dust bunnies or looked like it came straight from the depths of the underworld—no offense to Idia. And so, using the money you had painstakingly saved over the last six months, you decided to buy a cute, frilly sofa.

Problem was—you couldn't lift it at all. It was too wide and heavy for your poor untrained arms. Fortunately for you, your boyfriend was more than happy to help ^^

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Um…Deuce? Are you sure you don't want me to work?" Perched atop the kitchen counters, you were worriedly staring down at him.

While he was preoccupied with lifting the couch, you were lazily sipping on a bubble tea—a drink which he bought for you himself. Humming, you let your gaze move from the soft line of his cheekbone, to the sharper cut of his jaw, before resting it onto the thick of his arms. " I don't mind helping, you know."

Deuce was standing by the door, arms tucked beneath the couch as he braced himself for lifting. "Yeah, I got this. Don't worry."

Now, why was he here, exactly? Well…First off, you didn't intend to call him at all.

In the middle of trying to haul your couch into Ramshackle's entrance, Deuce had appeared out of nowhere, offering his help. Despite your vehement denial, the stubborn boy wouldn't take no for an answer, and eventually forced you to sit down, shoving the bright, bubbly drink in your hand without saying a word.

So, here you were. Shamelessly ogling at him while he tried to find a way to bring the couch in.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt—Oh!" You gasped, hand flying up to cover your agape mouth when Deuce easily lifted it up as if it were made of air. In response to your expression of astonishment, he grinned and playfully flexed his arms. "See?"

While Deuce set the couch down in front of the TV, you slipped off the counters and strode over to him. Jumping into his embrace, you draped your arms around his shoulder and pressed a big kiss on his cheeks, watching in delight as his face exploded in pink. "You're so strong! Thank you so much!"

Deuce let a wobbly smile stretch across his burning cheeks, his hands slack atop your hips. "Y-Yeah! No problem."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ LEONA

Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 + Hints at passenger princess treatment

Leona Kingscholar was not a romantic. Naturally, he has stayed to himself ever since he was little. This lion was not the kind to be sentimental, gooey, or emotional. So it is astonishing how quickly this stone-cold personality of his breaks down when he's around you.

Every little thing you do drives him into a lovesick frenzy, and he has no idea how to stop it. He wasn't particularly into grand displays of affection or romantic gestures. Ergo, in an effort to express his adoration, he turns to more…costly methods.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Tell me what you want." Leona demands, tone serious as he wraps a rough yet protective arm around your hips. Both of you were standing smack dab in the middle of a large shopping mall. Though the more you stood here, the more you began to realize that this place wasn't really your…ordinary mall.

First and foremost, when Leona pulled up, there was private parking, and that was already intimidating to you in and of itself. Second, it seems like every single store in here was a luxury brand. You've seen a couple of these logos plastered onto the tags of Vil's or Jade and Floyd's clothes.

As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure their plastic bags cost more than your entire yearly allowance combined.

"Ah, um…"  A nervous sweat built up on your brow as you fished your wallet out, peering into what little funds you had. "Leona, honey—I just needed to get some school supplies…Is there a different mall we can go to?" You sheepishly smiled up at him. "I don't think I can afford to get anything here."

Silence immediately follows as Leona stares at you with a dumbfounded look. Blinking bluntly, he scoffs. "Who said you were paying?"

"Hu-Huh?" You stammered, fiddling with your wallet. The lion's eyes were ripped wide open in shock, as if the mere thought of you spending your own money on your own things was a criminal act. Something so ludicrous that even a person with his deceptive persona finds it distasteful.

"Ain't it obvious already? I'm paying," Leona huffs, dragging you to a nearby jewelry shop. Behind the glass were displays of glittering pearls and jewels, each of which had delicate and intricate carvings. "And we're gettin' more than stationary."

"But-!" You start, only to get interrupted as his calloused hand clamps over your mouth.

"No buts."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  RUGGIE

Giving you his coat when you're cold and just being sickeningly sweet<3

Ruggie was used to working for others, and this habit of his pours over to you. Though it wouldn't take long for people to notice that his acts of labor was…different with you.

For others, Ruggie works because there's an exchange, a benefit, or a payment for him. For you, however, he does things with no motive in mind. He would never ask for more because he genuinely didn't need anything more, and if he ever did, a simple kiss or hug from you would be plenty.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

It was a frigid winter day and both of you were walking to school together, a routine you both developed over the past few months. As you followed him through the deep snowfall, the cold wind nipped and bit at your skin, making you shudder. Despite the struggle, you push on, the rough pads of your boots dragging along the thick blankets of snow.

Unfortunately for you, the flimsy cardigan you bought at Sam's did nothing to keep your body safe from the cruel winter.

While Ruggie's oversized warm coat helps kept him sufficiently warmed up, you, on the other hand, are struggling. You know you should have gotten a thicker coat, but this was all you could afford last minute.

Ever so caring, your boyfriend is quick to notice this and turns back around, trudging through the snow to meet you.

"C'mere," Ruggie drags you into his embrace and starts to slowly inch the coat off his shoulders. With your form now pushed against his body, he takes the chance to press a soft kiss against your cheeks. At the exchange of affection, both of you erupt in soft giggles, lovesick grins stretched across your lips.

The moment feels intimate, loving, and safe.

"Here ya' go." Suddenly he's engulfing you in his thick cloak and zipping it up. Protesting, you try to give it back, but all he does is snicker and shake his head. He peppers warm kisses on the side of your bare frostbitten neck, relishing in the giggles that spill from your lips. "Keep it. I can handle the cold. I'm used to it but I can't have you freezin' out here, now can I?"

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  JACK

Carries you when your feet start to hurt, tee hee

Jack was strong and well-disciplined. He's worked hard and trained himself to peak physical condition, yet even then, he's continually seeking to improve himself even more. He's tried it all: fitness routines, weight lifting, and sports. And it pays off.

His strength has proven useful in a variety of circumstances. from physical education classes, sporting events, marathons, and, strangely enough, carrying you when your heels begin to hurt your feet.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Jack looks around the booths as he takes your hands in his, pulling you along the festival crowds, "Hm. I think the takoyaki stand is around here. You were craving that earlier, right?" If it weren't for the intense dull ache at the bottom of your ankles, you would have been delighted to hear about the delectable octopus snack.

Instead, you hissed and pulled on the beastman's hand, halting to a stop, unable to take the torture of your heels any longer. "Jack, hold on a second."

Groaning, you slouch down on a nearby bench and kick off your heels, scowling at the dull throb that's pressing itself against the back of your foot. Jack quickly knelt down by your side, ears alert and tail swishing.

"What's wrong?" He questions as he drags your legs over to rest on top of his firm thighs. "Do your feet hurt?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "I kinda regret putting on heels at a festival like this…I didn't realize it would hurt so bad. I just wanted to look cute."

The wolf ponders for a moment before swiftly turning around, presenting his back to you, "Get on."

"Eh?" You blinked, tilting your head to the side. Jack looks away, keeping his head tilted to the ground as a dark flush swept over his skin. "I'll carry you…I-If your feet hurt, I won't mind carrying you."

"Oh!" Smiling, you slip onto his back and wrap your arms snug around his neck. Jack clutches your heels in one hand while the other grasps onto your thigh. The beastman easily stands up, supporting both his and your weight as he heads towards the food stands.

"Who knew you were such a softie, Jack! Hehe." You tease, pressing a kiss against the side of his neck. The beastman flushed even more, avoiding your gaze at all cost.

"Tch. I-I don't go around doing this for anyone."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  AZUL

Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 #2

Azul lived to spoil you.

For you, the octo-mer gleefully buys mountains of clothing. Your entire wardrobe has been thoughtfully planned by him (and often rapidly purchased, Floyd is always the victim to his 12am shopping whims).

Other than clothing, he's also quite fond of jewelry. He clasps pure pearls to your ears, drapes diamonds over your neck, and slips rings onto your fingers. It would be the highlight of Azul's day to see the items he had purchased for you proudly displayed for all the students on campus to see.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Shall we?" he asks softly as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from your chair. The smooth white silk of your dress cascades off the plush leather seat, draping down to your ankles. Azul swiftly guides you away from the lounge, signaling at both Floyd and Jade in the corner to clean up before turning his attention back to you, once more. "I hope the food was to your liking, angelfish?"

"Oh, it was," you confirm, a smile playing on your lips. Leaning up, you press a warm kiss against his lips, one which he returns. "Thank you for the wonderful night, Azul! The dress as well. It looks beautiful."

"Why, of course." The octo-mer hums, running his hand up your back. As he slips both of you into his room, he shuts the door with his foot and guides you to his vanity. "Though I do have one last gift."

"Another?" You chuckle, "Don't you think you spoil me too much? I don't want it to seem like I'm leeching off of you…"

"No, you could never," Azul says as he motions you to a seat near the table of his vanity. The octo-mer reaches over and opens a drawer, revealing a nice velvet box.

As the box is opened, a gorgeous sea-glass necklace with a stunning silver-coral colour is exhibited to you. It sat prettily atop a white plush pillow, winking at you. Azul deftly runs a hand up your neck to pull your hair back and your lips parts in a "o" when he clasps it on.

"Azul," you breathlessly murmur. "I can't possibly—This must have cost a fortune."

"It's for you," Azul smiles. "Only for you."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  JADE

You have scary eel privileges'

It was not uncommon for Jade to come knocking at your door in opportune times of the night to accompany you out for a walk. You mentioned once how you loved stargazing and Jade hasn't let that go since. For he too had always carried a fondness for the night, more specifically, the moon.

It was constant, a repetitive lustrous cycle, and despite his thrill seeking nature, he took comfort in its consistency. Walks with you were the highlight of his week, and he certainly does not take interruptions from pesky little bugs lightly.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

The night sky above Ramshackle was littered with painted specs of sparkling stars, burning brightly amidst the gradients of blue and black. Jade had a firm hand situated by the small of your back, gently guiding you along the dirt path of the trail.

"It's so beautiful…" You murmur in astonishment, craning your head up to peer up at the canvas of stars. Chuckling, Jade tugs you in closer to slip his large jacket over your shoulders. "I'm glad you like it, pearl. I do hope it's not too cold?"

"Not at all."

Both of you continue along your hike, going deeper and deeper into the thick, dense forest. As you trudged on, a bundle of wild mushrooms caught your eye and you halted to a stop, recognizing the patterns and spots on the fungi in a book Jade had once shown you.

"Wait here a moment. I just saw those mushrooms you wanted so bad. I'll go get it!" Before Jade could even reply, you were already off, sneaking past tall bushes and prickly trees. 

Just as you were about to pick your first mushroom, a low growl interrupts you. Freezing, your eyes dart upward to see a Savanaclaw student towering over your form. 

He did not seem happy.

"Oya? You're that Ramshackle punk, aren't you?…I have to say, Leona let you off real easy after that little spy mission you did in our dorm." He sneers, rolling the joints of his shoulders and moving closer, backing you up against a tree. "That's all good with me…Cuz' If he won't do something bout' it, then I will."

Suddenly, he was drawing his fist back, aiming for you. The sudden shift happened so quickly that all you could do was flinch and hunch over, preparing yourself for a hit.

Only for it to never come.

"My, my," a familiar voice muses. Breath hitching in your throat, you peek up and see Jade looming behind the boy. The eel's hand was coiled tight around the beastman's wrist, clasping tighter and tighter until there was a sickening snap. 

"How foolish of you to think I would allow that."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ FLOYD

You have scary eel privileges' #2

Floyd was a lot softer and caring than a lot of people would give him credit for. That or he just gives you special treatment. After all, the big bad eel found you endearing. You were his one and only beloved little shrimpy. 

You were the one who stood by him even when others dismissed him as strange or frightful because you loved and adored him wholeheartedly. So, he can't help but be protective of you.

Nothing will ever hurt you so long as he's by your side.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Shrimpy? What're you doing here?"

Sniffles and cries wreck your chest as you curled up on Floyd's bed, clutching his shrimp plush tight in your arms. Said eel was standing by the door, a look of shock plastered onto his features before it turned ice-cold as he approached your weeping form.

"My poor shrimpy…" Floyd rasps, tugging off his gloves to cup your wet cheeks with his big hands. "What's wrong with my shrimpy? Did someone do this? I'll squeeze 'em if they did."

The eel crawls into bed with you, tugging the plush out of your arms and slipping himself into your embrace. Soft warm kisses are peppered on your wet cheeks as Floyd coos at you.

Sobbing, you raise a hand to furiously wipe at your eyes before exclaiming, "It's Grim again! Why does he have to be so difficult?! I worked so hard for my alchemy exam, but it seems like he doesn't care! He's brought our grades down again!"

"It's that cat of yours again, huh?" Floyd clicked his tongue, thumb pressing against the corner of your teary eyes. He pressed a warm palm to your cheek, examining your face with close inspection as he slowly reached for your hand and set it down atop his beating heart. "No worries. Just let it all out, shrimpy. I'll have a talk with the baby seal later hehe~"

You sniffed and brushed his comments aside as you pulled away from the embrace, an action which made him pout. "…I'm not sure he'd even listen. Grim is as stubborn as a rock." 

"We'll see about that, shrimpy." Floyd scoffs, a frown on his face clearly visible as he pulls you closer once more.

"Yanno, I'm pretty good at alchemy myself." Floyd chirps, a dark grin slowly stretching across his cheeks. "I'm sure the baby seal won't mind having a private tutor session with good ol' me."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ ROOK

This man WORSHIPS the ground you walk on.

As they say, "Before you die, experience the love of a writer, poet or painter. If you're lucky enough to be an artist's muse, they will immortalize you." Such a muse you were to Rook.

Though it would take quite a lot of coaxing before he could have the pleasure of having you as his muse, at the rare moments you did agree—Rook did his utmost best to do you justice on the canvas.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Portraiture looked into the life of the subject, revealed what was hidden deep inside, and examined it. With his hunter-like manner, Rook was all too acquainted with this study.

"A-Am I doing this right?" You murmur, trying your best not to move around as you held a bouquet of daisies up to your chest. There was a cream-tinted dress draped across your body as you reclined against the backdrop Rook had set up.

"Oui. Such beauty in your gaze, trickster. Angels lurk behind your eyes." The hunter flirts, resolute gazed locked onto your flustered ones as he drags his brush against the palette. There was an experiment with the hues for a time before he blended a few other colors.

"I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to do this." As he'd found the color he wanted, Rook turned back to you. He took careful note of every nuance and detail of your glowing visage and committed as much as he could to memory. Rook knew he’d have to make your portrait perfect. He simply couldn’t allow for anything else.

"You're very persistent," you huff with a small smile on your face. "I had to cave in eventually, huh?"

"But, of course!" Rook cheekily grins, turning his attention back to the canvas. "I can't let a chance like this pass me by."

Time passed and layers upon layers of color came together to form the picture he sought after. Out to the right, spread across a lush sofa, was your incandescent form. And he surely didn't hold back on the details. The creases in the fabric, the curve of your smile, and the contours of the plush pillows scattered on either side of the plush crimson sofa all draw the eye.

It was a large painting that he had boldly placed in Pomefiore's living room, much to Vil's chagrin. Try as he might, the dormleader couldn't get the hunter to remove it at all.

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ MALLEUS

Princess treatment? pff. That's cute. No, it's queen treatment to him.

You had a bad tendency of rambling on about whatever that came to mind, often without realising that another person was in the same room as you. Even if you initially didn't mind this little quirk of yours, recent events have made you realise that you should probably curb your mouth-running.

Even more so considering that your partner, caring as he was, had a tendency to be quite…impulsive. Especially when it comes to matters concerning your comfort and well-being.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Malleus was flipping through a catalogue of colour samples and scrutinizing each texture with careful judgment. Slipping the page into your hands, he murmurs, "This is all rather lovely. Perhaps a dark crimson will suffice. Or would you like this wine red dye, my dear?" The dragon looked at you, patiently awaiting your response.

Only for there to be none.

You stood awkwardly at his side, your cheeks flaming up with shame. Tugging at his coat, you rose up on your tiptoes and whispered quietly, "Tsunotaro…when I whined about it being cold, I didn't mean for you to go this far."

"Oh?" He quirks a brow up, "Do you not like these colors?"

"Mal," you utter gently, handing the catalogue back to him. "I don't really think we need to—"

"Young Master. If I may," Sebek interrupts, voice raising to a strained high squeak, "Please do tell. Why are we replacing every.single marble floor in the dorm…with carpet?"

Malleus draws you in his arms, all while ignoring the enraged stare painted on Sebek's face. "My darling's feet become frigid cold when they walk along the marble flooring. I think it's due time for it to get redone," he says while running his hands tenderly up your back and gazing at you with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Sebek blinks, a strained smile sneaking up on his cheeks, "Well. I'm sure they can use slippers—"

"Nonsense." Malleus snarls, eyes flashing a luminous green. "How dare you even think of subjecting them to such a ludicrous act. Hmph. Using…slippers—How preposterous." 

"No. I think my way is much better." Shaking his head, Malleus turns back to the catalogue—paying no mind to the grief-stricken look on his retainer's face. "Now dearest, do you think burgundy would look good in the kitchen?"

───────────────────── · ·

—♰ SEBEK

Carries your sparkly pink purses for you, slay king<3

Sebek was not a fool. The fae was well aware he could be a bit…much at times. And even if he doesn't express it, he really values your nearly infinite patience with him. 

The boy was awkward at affection, and this is especially highlighted when it comes to anything involving romantic gestures. Even though your snappy crocodile was hard-headed and stubborn at times, he still showed you how much he cared in his own little ways. Even if it were something as simple as carrying your sparkly pink bag around the campus.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"You ought to have known better than to jest so lightly about Diasomnia that way!" Sebek barks out, a leather-clad finger digging deep into Ace's chest. However, as opposed to being upset as Sebek had anticipated, the ginger chortles, muffled giggles sneaking past his clamped up lips.

"Sebek, buddy." Ace wheezes out, shoulders shaking from the strain of his suppressed laughter. "It's kinda hard to take you seriously…wh-when you have that."

The Heartslabyul runt gestures towards your designer purse, which was snugly resting against Sebek's bicep, slung over his shoulder. 

It was quite the eye-catcher. The sparkling pink diamonds of its handle twinkled a bright brilliant white, so bright in fact that it was almost blinding. 

Epel takes notice of the logo and crocodile keychain attached to it and he perks up.

"Oh, it's one of those girly-lookin' designer bags Vil is always yappin' about," Epel points out, squinting his eyes to get a better look at it. "Ain't that the prefect's bag?"

Unfazed by Ace's mocking, Sebek scoffs arrogantly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Indeed, it is. As a knight-in-training, it is only right for me to possess the quality of a gentleman. Chivalrous acts like this are nothing to be ashamed of." He abruptly snapped his head over to glower at Ace, who was sitting rather comfortably in the cafeteria bench, crossing one leg over the over as he met Sebek's irritated stare. "Not that I anticipate someone like you to ever have experience with it.."

Sebek then rose from the table and strode boldly in the direction of your classroom, the pink bag swinging with each heavy step he took. Epel was leaning over the table, placing a shaky hand on Ace's shoulder as loud laughter racked through his body.

"Darn' right," Epel cackles, wiping the tears away from his eyes before turning to the ginger. "Nice ta' see someone still has sum chivalry…Unlike you, Ace."

The ginger visibly deflates, rolling his eyes as he mutters, "Yeah, yeah. We get it. He's down bad."

—TAGLIST:

꒰ ♡🧷: if you want to be tagged for ALL of my works, comment here!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad @kyraxiyn @mayaaaeo @fluffimemes @awkwardspontaneity @phoneandchips @gussuri @lunavixia @heatofmyexoheart @heatofmyexoheart @pianopuppygirl @cross-crye @cerisescherries @cecilebutcher @savanaclaw1996 @msykaroly @a-bit-late

@furoidoleech @skadi-winterfell @mushroomchaos101 @taruruchi

[happy74827]

Ice Breaker

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You start to see your acquaintance/friend in a new light after saving your life.

WC: 6994 (oh, jeez)

Category: Fluff, Eventual Smut (lmfao), Lime/Spice, Slow Burn(ish), {TW: Drowning, Improper Use of Claws (Kinda a joke, kinda not… it’s hinted in the very beginning), P With P, Slight OOC? MDNI!!}

Why am I petrified to post this?? Literally shaking.

So, uh, please be nice to me 😭🫶 Smut is NOT my strong suit. This is like my 3rd attempt at it and the first time I’m posting it. Kinda scary. But I wanted to be that person who wrote all genres (dunno why), so here’s a fic containing mostly all genres? I guess?

@yoursacredqueenmother helped with some parts (mostly the ending) and my confidence so shout out to my queen!! Love you girlie 💞

『••✎••』

Warmth and pain. It’s all you felt. Your lungs were aching, begging for the oxygen that the cold water was denying you. Your vision blurred as your body screamed for air. The feeling of a strong pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you out of the depths and into a blinding light. You felt the air hit your face as you were laid onto solid ground, a large hand pushing on your chest.

Suddenly, you felt the pressure of a mouth being pressed against yours, and it took a moment before your mind registered what was happening.

It was then a sound of a gasp and a deep, throaty growl sounded from above you, and the warm, comforting weight of the hand was suddenly gone. Only replaced by a sound that resembled a sword being drawn from a sheath.

And then, pain once more. You felt something lodge into the airway, and your body was instantly set into a frenzy, attempting to rid itself of the object. In an instant, the sound similar to a sword repeated itself, replaced only by the feeling of being turned onto your side. Your body began to convulse as a mix of the icy lake water, and your stomach acid spewed from your throat.

When your body finally stilled, your eyes fluttered open to reveal a blurry vision; you began to hear things more clearly. Muffles turned into a voice, which turned into words.

"Shit… Fucking shit," Deep and gruff, almost a growl. You remembered that voice. You knew that voice. "Jesus, you’re ice cold. Fuck!"

The sound of a zipper was heard, and before you knew it, a weight was placed over you, and you were off the ground and in the air.

That’s when you peered up and saw him. The very same man who claimed he was far from a hero. He was carrying you with his arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. He was constantly flickering his gaze to look down at you while you did nothing but stare back.

It was after a moment that your senses were coming back to you, and you began to notice things more clearly.

His jaw was clenched tight, and the look in his eyes was one of concern. You didn't know if it was your imagination, but it looked like there was a tint of red around his iris, which was now a piercing hazel color. The muscles of his face were taut and strained. The furrow of his brow gave him a look of worry while the twitch of his lips hinted at annoyance.

"Lo…" You didn’t realize the impact the water and the ice had had on you until you tried to speak, the sound coming out weak and broken. His gaze flicked back to you, and the red ring around his eyes was gone.

"It’s alright. It’s… You’re gonna…" The cold air hit his face as he opened his mouth, causing his breath to turn into fog. "You’re gonna be fine, Sweetheart. We’re gonna get you somewhere warm, alright?"

You couldn't help but shiver at the term of endearment and nodded in response, knowing that any attempt to speak would probably just come out in a croak.

You didn’t remember much after that, only bits and pieces. You remember the sudden quietness as he ripped open the door of his truck and settled you down on the passenger seat. You remember him securing his jacket around your body, his hands lingering a bit too long on your shoulders.

You also remembered the absolute mental breakdown he had when his truck wouldn’t start.

He had slammed his fist into the dashboard, the impact leaving a dent in the metal, while a loud pang signified the adamantium bones beneath. He was muttering curse after curse and had his head leaned back against the headrest, eyes screwed shut, and a look of frustration and pain upon his face.

It was only when he slammed his head into the steering wheel, clearly aggravated by the failure of his truck, did the it finally decide to work.

You don’t remember the drive, only that the heat was cranked up to its maximum, and he was speeding, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight and his knuckles turning white.

But you remember the look he gave you when he lifted you from the truck, carrying you into some off-the-road motel. For a while, you thought he actually broke into it, but he paid during your trip, both in and out of consciousness.

And now, here you were, completely swaddled in a mass of blankets, in front of a fire that Logan had made as he was pacing the room. His brows were furrowed, and he had his fingers running through his hair in an almost desperate manner. He looked stressed and maybe even a little scared.

Your mind was still foggy, and a wave of pain shot through your head. A wince escaped your lips, and you instantly regretted the noise as Logan snapped his head to you, his eyes wide and his lips parted. He strode over to you, squatting down to your eye level.

"How do ya feel?" He asked, his voice softer than usual.

"F-Freezing," you whispered, your teeth clacking together. Logan looked around frantically, unsure of what to do.

"There’s no fucking hot water in this place," he muttered to himself. "What a shit hole. Fucking cheap bastards. Shit." He continued to ramble, cursing up a storm.

"Logan," you managed to breathe out, your hand reaching out from under the covers and grabbing his bicep. The man was tense as hell. "I-It's fine."

His eyes widened a fraction at your touch before narrowing in frustration.

"It ain't fine," he said, his tone rough. "You’re freezing to the point where yer shaking like a goddamn leaf. How is that fine?"

Your brows furrowed as you tried to sit up, his arms reaching out to push you back down, but you shrugged him off.

"Logan, I'm not… I’m not dying."

He stared at you for a moment, the crease between his brows becoming more pronounced before he shook his head, the muscles of his face twitching in annoyance.

"That ain't the fucking point."

"Then what is the… the point?"

He stood up, beginning to pace again. You watched him carefully as he rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling and cursing to himself. You could feel the frustration practically radiating off him.

You were going to ask him what was wrong, what was the problem, why he was acting so strangely, when his gaze met yours and your breath hitched in your throat.

He looked so… different. You were used to his scowl and his hard features. Quite honestly, his personality was trash mixed with an added dash of salt. But now, even though he held those same hard features, your eyes took it in a whole new way.

His scowl made him seem protective and concerned. His furrowed brow seemed almost endearing, and his clenched jaw gave him a sense of determination.

It made you want to think back on the way he held you and how his arms were secured around you, making you feel all kinds of—

Warmth…

The idea that made you jolt forward, almost falling off the bed.

"Shit!" Logan was at your side in an instant, his arm reaching out and supporting you. "Are ya tryna kill yourself? Lie back down."

"No," you shook your head. "You."

He frowned. "What?"

"You," you repeated, a small smile stretching across your lips. "I need… You."

He stared at you for a moment, his face dropping into a look of confusion. It would’ve been funny if you didn't feel so damn cold.

"Me?"

"Yeah… I n-need heat," another shiver went through you. "And you’re like a furnace. An overheated dog."

"Like a what?" He narrowed his eyes.

"A… just— I'm cold, Logan." You were starting to get tired. "Please."

He blinked at you. Then, he looked at the ground, then at the bed. He was silent for a moment, and you were afraid he wouldn’t do it. But then, his hands were finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it up over his head.

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. So, why did you suddenly feel a heat spreading in the pit of your stomach despite him not even touching you yet? Why were your eyes suddenly wide and focused? Why were your lips parting and your mouth becoming dry?

There was just a perfect amount of hair trailing down from his belly button and leading down into the waistband of his jeans. It was almost like a treasure trail but thicker. His muscles were so well defined, their cords protruding from the skin, and he was flexing and twitching as he moved. His stomach was taut, and his hips were slightly visible. His chest was broad, pecs perfectly formed, and the lines between them were the most appealing things you had ever seen.

And right in the center was the all too familiar chain, with the dog tags dangling down, resting just over his sternum.

You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, a strange and unfamiliar heat washing over you. You didn’t really realize how long you were staring until he spoke.

"A lot of girls would pay good money for the view you're getting," he smirked, and the heat in your stomach only got hotter.

You averted your gaze and coughed into your fist. "Sh-Shut up," you mumbled, pulling the blankets back and slipping under the covers.

Logan sighed as he moved the blankets away from your goosebump-covered skin and settled himself in next to you.

Instantaneously, you sighed as the heat emitting from his body enveloped you while he tensed at the contact.

"Shit, you really are freezing," he grumbled.

You couldn't help the slight moan that came from you as his warm arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressing flush against your back, and his breath ghosting the back of your neck.

You could sleep like this. In fact, you probably would because you were so tired. Your eyelids felt heavy, and the feeling of his warmth made you feel safe.

For a moment, the only noise that was heard was the crackling of the fire, both your panting breath and his, and the sound his throat was making as he swallowed.

"I, uh," his voice was lower and a lot deeper than before. It seemed to rumble through him and into your back. "I thought ya died. When I found you, I thought you were dead."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your mouth went dry. Damn, already with the emotions.

"Well, I'm not," you told him, your voice a lot softer than his. "I'm fine. I’m okay."

You felt him nod against your shoulder. "Right."

And you knew, deep down, that he was lying.

Logan was never a good liar. You knew it from the moment he stepped foot into the mansion. And this, his actions, was living proof of what a horrible liar he was.

"Logan?"

He grunted. "Hmm?"

"Why did you do it?"

You could feel the way his eyebrow quirked in confusion. "Why did I do what?"

"Follow me, and save me," you stated simply. "You had no reason to."

He was silent for a moment. "And, what? I was supposed to leave you there to die?"

"Yes."

"That ain't—"

"But it is, Logan," you said, and he was quiet once more. "You said it yourself. You aren’t a hero. So why did you save me?"

You always knew the answer. But even if you were currently freezing, you wanted to hear it come from him. It was tiringof hearing the same phrase over and over.

And clearly, you poked a nerve because in an instant, his arms were off of you, and you were being flipped over, with all the blankets thrown to the floor, only to find yourself face to face with Logan.

"Is this you pulling my teeth?" He growled, a look of anger on his face. "It sure as hell ain’t a damn good time."

You couldn’t stop the way your eyes kept flickering down his chest, his pectorals tensing as he breathed.

"You say you aren’t, but you are," you told him, not even listening to him. You were too focused on the way the flames of the fire danced along his skin. "Heroes save people. You saved me."

"This isn’t about heroism." He seethed, and the anger was evident. "It’s about you being a stubborn ass and getting yourself in a damn dangerous situation."

"Dangerous situation?" Now it was your turn to get angry. "Are you serious? Are you actually serious?"

"Who the hell just storms off to go frolicking around on top of a goddamn lake? What the fuck were ya thinking?"

"It’s called ice skating, you stupid bastard," you snapped, feeling your body returning back to a chill due to his absence. "I didn't expect it to break, and I didn’t expect to f-fall through. I don’t have f-fucking x-ray vision."

"Any person with half a brain could see how thin the ice was," he spat. "I mean, look at you! Ya, look like a goddamn popsicle."

"I was trying to enjoy myself, Logan. Something you wouldn't know anything about."

"Enjoy yourself?" He barked out a laugh. "You could've fucking died. That isn't enjoying yourself, Icypop, that's being fucking stupid."

"Don’t call me that."

"You are fucking stupid," he hissed. "Do you know what that would've done? Do ya know what it would've done to—"

"Logan," you snapped. "You… This… This is proving my point. If you truly weren’t a hero, you wouldn’t have cared. You would have let me drown and gone on your merry way."

"Anyone would have cared."

"Not anyone," you retorted, "Not everyone."

"You just think that because it's what you want to think."

"No, it's the truth."

"No, it isn’t."

"You saved me, Logan," you whispered, your eyes finding his, which were still burning with anger. "Get it through your head, you idiot. You saved me. I wasn’t even aware you had followed me, but you c-cared enough to keep me from dying. You aren’t a bad guy, Logan; stop trying to convince yourself you are. Because, clearly, you aren’t."

The two of you were staring at each other, neither of you speaking a word. Your breaths were coming out in puffs of air, while his were heavy and almost raspy. The look on his face was intense, and he was practically trembling with anger.

You couldn't tell what was running through his mind, but you had a feeling it was along the lines of, "I'm not a fucking hero. Shut the hell up," or, "Just let me believe what I want to believe."

You didn't know which one it was, but either way, it would be pointless to argue with him.

He would always try to convince himself that he wasn’t a good person. He would try to convince himself that he wasn’t meant for such things.

Even with proving the opposite in so many situations, he still would never take the hint.

And now, with the way he was looking at you, the two of you breathing in the same air, the heat of his body surrounding you, your eyes trying to forget his state of undress, it was hard not to argue.

You didn't mean to do it, but your hand lifted up, and your fingers grazed the chain of his dog tags, sending a shiver through his body.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes flicker down, taking him in for a second time, your eyes trailing down his chest and his abs before finding the patch of hair leading into his—

You swallowed thickly before meeting his gaze again. His eyes were dark, and his pupils dilated. The way his chest was rising and falling, and his jaw was clenching made it obvious he was trying to control himself.

Caught, you quickly dropped your hand and averted your eyes. You didn’t want him to see the effect his body had on you, even if you had no control over it.

"I'm not a hero," he finally whispered, and it wasn’t his words that surprised you, but his voice.

His voice was deep and raspy, and you couldn't stop the way the heat was pooling in the pit of your stomach or the way a strange feeling was taking over your mind. "But, I do care. A hell of a lot."

"Lo—"

"Don’t call me a hero for caring," his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to his body. "I care too much for worthless shit like that."

Your throat went dry. He was so warm, so very warm.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. Your breathing quickened, your heartbeat hammering in your chest. Not a single coherent thought came to your mind. All you could think about was the way his breaths lined up with yours. The way his skin was brushing against yours. How he smelled so very distinctly Logan, and the way his lips looked so very inviting.

It was taken too far when your tongue slipped out and wetted your own lips, and Logan's eyes darted to the movement.

He stared for the longest time, seemingly frozen, his chest rising and falling heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He pulled away only an inch or two, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

What was he thinking? What was going through his head? You wanted to ask, but you were afraid to break the silence. Afraid to say something and make him come to his senses.

So, instead, you watched his face carefully, the way his lips parted, and his pupils dilated before his eyes found yours once more. Reading him was hard, but this… this was an expression you had seen before.

It was when Jean was flirting with Scott. The way she would lean close and give him that smile, and the way his cheeks would heat, and his eyes would dart down to her lips, then back up.

This was attraction.

And it was an expression you didn't think you would see on Logan. Not for you, at least.

You were one of his close friends, but did you play nice with each other? No. Did you get along? Yes, but those rare arguments the two of you had were heated, and sometimes they didn't make sense.

Did you tease him and mess with him? Definitely.

But never did you think that would lead to this.

Logan was attractive. He was built and tall, and he was very muscular. The definition of a man. His rough, hard features only made him more desirable. And his short temper and bad attitude just drew women to him like flies. They tend to lean towards the bad boys.

You didn’t. You picked the nice ones. The kind ones. The ones who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You had been with a couple of guys since coming to Xavier's, and all of them had been so nice and so polite, but you did come to the conclusion that they were rather boring.

You couldn't remember the last time you were flustered by a man, or the last time your heart pounded so quickly, or the last time your breath caught in your throat.

But here was Logan, suddenly giving you those feelings and making your stomach do flips. The man who pretended to be the opposite of everything you wanted in a partner was the only one making your heart race.

You didn't know if that was good or bad.

This feeling, though, felt good. Felt so very good.

The way his arm was around your waist, his hand gripping your side, his body flush against yours, his lips just inches from your own, felt too good.

The heat from his skin felt good. The feeling of his warm breath was good. His scent was good. Everything was so, very good.

You were tired, and your eyelids felt heavy. The way your limbs felt like lead and how cold you felt was getting to you. You could feel your body starting to relax.

The only thing keeping you awake was Logan.

He was still so close, and his grip hadn’t loosened. But you couldn't help it when your eyelids started to slip closed, and your body went slack against him.

Logan's grip on you tightened, his arms holding your body tighter, his breath catching, before you felt the softest of touches on your forehead.

Kisses… Kisses were being peppered across your forehead, and it made you shiver.

His lips were so soft. His kisses were so gentle. It was so different from the hard exterior he held. It was like he was a completely different person.

So, you looked up and found yourself nose-to-nose with Logan. His eyes were staring right back into yours, and there was a soft look to his features.

The hand on your waist moved and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin there.

"You need sleep," his voice was low and raspy. He was whispering as if speaking any louder would break the moment.

"That’s not what I need," you replied just as quietly, not breaking eye contact.

His brow furrowed. "What do ya need, darlin'?"

Words were hard to find and hard to put into sentences. You could’ve said a lot of things. Food, a shower, more blankets, a cup of tea, but the truth was, none of those things would satisfy you.

And the longer Logan's eyes were locked with yours, the more assured you were that what you needed wasn't any of those things.

So, instead of words, you moved your hand to gently grasp the chain of his dog tags. It held the same warmth that was emitting from his skin.

You didn’t know if he knew what you meant or if he understood what you were trying to say.

But the look in his eyes and the way his grip tightened gave you the feeling that he did.

It was silent, and tense. But, it was comfortable, and so, very nice.

You didn’t know if you had the strength to lift your body and kiss him. Or if he had the willpower to.

However, you didn’t need to make the decision. Because when he lifted your hair out of the way and buried his nose into the crook of your neck, his lips just barely hovering over your pulse, you were certain.

So, you did what any other girl would do in that situation.

Your hand tangled itself in his hair, and you pushed his face closer to your neck.

There was a growl, a deep, animalistic growl. One that shook your core from the heat in his voice, and the sound was almost enough to make you moan.

But you were surprised by the feeling of his lips pressing against your neck. You’d imagined with the way he was built, and with his personality, it would be rough and fast. But the way his lips gently caressed your neck, and the way his hands roamed your body made it seem like he wanted to take his time.

His mouth started trailing open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your neck, his hot breath sending good shivers through your body. He sucked and nibbled, making you shiver, and the way his hand moved to caress your waist was gentle.

It was so unexpected, but it was so very welcome.

His lips traveled up your neck until they were just behind your ear, where he placed a small kiss before nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Warm enough?"

It was the first thing he had said since your neck began being attacked, and it wasn’t a question that had an answer.

Because, while you were indeed warm, the way his hands were roaming your body and the way his lips were on you was causing an entirely different kind of heat.

And it was obvious that he was trying to get his point across. The way his hips were pressed against yours, and the way his arms were wrapped tightly around you was definitely not helping.

You knew he could smell it, your arousal. And he could most likely hear your racing heartbeat and feel the way your body trembled.

He was waiting for an answer. He wanted an answer.

"Logan," you breathed, your eyes slipping shut and your hands finding his chest. His skin was hot under your touch, and you couldn't help the way you trailed your fingers down his pecs and his abs.

He shook a bit, clearly still not used to your freezing touch, but his grip on you didn't loosen, and neither did the way his body was pressed against yours.

He was hard. Everywhere. His arms were strong, his chest was defined, and his legs were muscular. He was a brick wall, and you couldn't help but admire it.

You couldn't believe how attractive the man was.

Logan Howlett. The guy who was an asshole. The guy who would kill a man with his bare hands. The guy who was working on his temper. The guy who would accidentally pick a fight at the drop of a hat.

The guy who just saved you. The guy who cared about you.

Your hand slid down his stomach, and his muscles contracted under your touch. You were getting closer and closer until you hit the brown border that held up his jeans.

Your hand didn’t stay for long because a hand greeted you, wrapping around your wrist and stopping your movement.

Logan lifted his head from the crook of your neck, and his dark eyes stared into yours. There was a warning in his gaze, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Stop," his voice was low and raspy.

Your eyes searched his face, but there was nothing there. No emotion. Just a blank stare. "Why?"

"Don't."

You ignored him and tried to move your hand, but he tightened his grip, making it so you couldn’t move it.

"Logan," you whispered.

"I said stop."

You looked into his eyes and noticed something. His eyes were darker, his pupils were blown, and the look in his gaze was intense.

And it finally clicked.

He was turned on, and he was trying to keep himself in control.

And, you thought about it. If Logan were to lose control, what would happen? What would happen if the man who could slice a man open with his bare hand was in a situation like this, with his hormones raging and his self-control fading?

You didn't think much of it, but when the thought crossed your mind, a rush of arousal surged through you.

You wanted him. You wanted Logan Howlett. And it was a surprise.

He was going to say another word, but your lips captured him, and the hand on your wrist immediately released you.

It was like a switch was flipped. Logan growled into the kiss as you tugged him closer by his hair. The kiss was passionate, and the way his hand slipped under the damp shirt you were wearing was almost too much.

While his one hand was under your shirt, the other was against the bedsheet, his body leaning over you. He was hovering, but his lips never left yours.

Your shirt was gone in an instant, ripped from your body, and tossed to the floor. He paid no mind to the fact that he had ruined a perfectly good shirt, and the only thing he cared about was your bare skin.

Your lips parted, and his tongue darted into your mouth, tasting you. You could hardly keep up, his tongue dominating your mouth and his hands roaming your body.

"Lo," you managed to moan against his lips before his mouth was on yours again.

He didn't reply, but the way his fingers were trailing over the skin of your thighs was answer enough.

It was getting hot, too hot, and Logan knew that.

He pulled away from the kiss, and the string of saliva that connected the two of you broke and landed on your chest. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were dark.

Your hair was messy, and you were still wet. Your body was shaking, and goosebumps were littering your skin.

You were looking up at him, your eyes searching his face. Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was rising and falling quickly.

He was staring at your lips, and the way they were swollen from the kiss, and his hands were trailing along the expanse of your stomach, before moving back down to the hem of your jeans.

Logan had undone them, and his fingers were playing with the band.

Your eyes didn't leave his face, but you were surprised when he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

He was waiting for something, and when you nodded, the next thing you knew, your pants were gone. The only thing that remained was his jacket, which you still had on from your lake experience.

It felt like a distant memory, one that was fuzzy and far off. It's odd how something as traumatic and horrifying as nearly dying could turn into something as heated and intimate as this.

Logan was watching your face carefully, his hand resting on your thigh, and his eyes were searching your expression. He was waiting for any indication of doubt.

The only thing indicated was desire.

He seemed satisfied with your reaction, and his hand slowly moved further and further up your thigh before the tips of his fingers reached the fabric of your panties.

His thumb was hooked under the band, and he pulled the black fabric aside, moving his other hand to unbutton his jeans.

He pulled the zipper down, and his hand slid into his boxers.

His head fell back with a sigh, his eyes closing as his hand moved along his length.

You watched, entranced, as he pleasured himself. You didn't realize you were biting your lip until his eyes were on yours, his eyebrows furrowed, and his breaths were shaky.

He let go of himself and leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, as he struggled to hold himself together.

He was still waiting, and you couldn't figure out why. Why was he hesitating? Wasn't it obvious that you wanted him?

"Okay, Cowardly Lion, you can do this."

His head tilted to the side, and his nose bumped against yours. His breath fanned over your face, and his hand was gripping the side of the bed.

"Don’t call me that," his voice was gruff.

You grinned and moved your hand to the back of his neck, holding him in place. "Cowardly. Lion."

Logan growled, and you couldn't help the shiver that ran through your body. It wasn't scary. Not even close. It was hot and sexy, and it made you want him even more.

He was hovering over you, and his hand was on the side of the bed, his knuckles clenching the sheets. For a second, you believed he’d let his claws out and slice right through the mattress.

But again, only for a second.

He was watching you, his gaze locked on your face. He was staring, and his eyes were dark, and the way he was looking at you was intense.

You didn't say anything.

So, his hand moved.

And his fingers hooked under the band of your underwear, and he slowly, oh, so, slowly, pulled the fabric down.

He tossed the garment somewhere in the room, and his eyes trailed over your body.

He was staring at you, admiring your body, and the way the moonlight shone through the window made it all the better.

Your legs were spread, and you were completely naked. The only thing that was covering you was his leather jacket.

Logan's eyes moved back up your body, and he swallowed. "You’re pretty great when you’re wet."

A smirk made its way onto your lips, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you. "You should see me after I get out of the shower."

He growled, and the hand that was next to your head came up and grasped your chin, tilting your head back, and his mouth was on yours in an instant.

The kiss was heated, and it was a shock. Not a surprise, though. This was the original thought that went through your head. The way his hands were rough and the way his grip was tight.

This is how you expected him to be. Rough and fast. But this was not that.

This was so much better.

Your teeth clashed, and his tongue fought with yours, his body pushing you further into the bed.

You gasped into his mouth as his hand traveled back down to stroke himself a few more times before he was just outside your entrance.

You couldn't stop the whine that escaped you as his tip nudged against your core before his length started to push in.

His eyes slipped shut, and his hands caught him from falling. The bed creaked, and you could feel him trembling as he took a moment to collect himself.

When he had, there were only two things on your mind as the jolt of pain mixed with pleasure hit you.

One, you couldn't believe Logan had been holding out on you. This was amazing, and you could see yourself getting addicted to the way he made you feel.

And two, it was the way he had his jaw clenched, the way he was breathing, his hips pressed flush against yours, and the way his muscles were flexing.

He looked so good, and it was hard to focus on the fact that he was actually inside of you. His cigarette-stained breath fanned over your face, the way every time he moved slightly faster, he became more vulnerable and less guarded, the back of the throaty moans he made, the way his lips were swollen from the kissing and the biting.

All of it was a big turn-on.

His hands were gripping the bed, and his dog tags were bouncing off of his chest, hitting your skin with a cold metallic sound.

The way his hair hung in his face, and the way his eyes were dark, made him look incredibly sexy.

"Lo," you whimpered, and your nails scraped his shoulders, leaving red lines in their wake.

Of course, by the time he had reacted to the slight pain, they were already gone.

He leaned down, his arms wrapping around your body, and he held you close. He pressed his lips against your neck and sucked the sensitive skin.

It was quiet, except for the sounds of the bed creaking and the gasps and pants that slipped out every now and then. You weren’t very vocal, but that was only because you were more focused on how it felt.

And it felt so good.

It was a lot more enjoyable when it wasn’t painful, and you were more than happy that the pain had subsided and was now replaced with pure ecstasy.

He was big, bigger than you had originally expected. So, he had taken his time.

Well, not really. He had tried to, at least.

Logan had tried to hold out, but the way you had squeezed him and the way you had whimpered when he was halfway in had caused him to lose his grip on reality.

But he had tried to take his time. And that was what counted.

Your hands tangled in his hair and pulled his head closer, making him moan into your mouth.

He was moving faster, and he was losing his mind. Your lips were swollen, and the way your chest was rising and falling was amazing.

He was holding himself up, his arms flexing as his hips moved against yours, and the sound of your name falling from his lips in such a way was a sound you wanted to hear more often.

He was close. You could tell by the way his thrusts were becoming sloppy and the way he was gasping.

But you were, too.

It was the first time, the only time, you had ever experienced such an intense high. And it was a rush.

Your head fell back, and your fingers tightened in his hair as your orgasm ripped through your body. You were shaking, and your mouth opened in a silent scream as the intensity of it all hit you.

Logan followed soon after, his orgasm hitting him just as hard. His was more brutal towards you, though, as he full-on collapsed into your body, his entire weight pressing into you as he came.

It was an experience you didn't think you would ever forget. Especially when he accidentally unleaded his claws and sliced through the mattress.

"Ah, goddamn it," he sighed and slowly pulled out. He was still on top of you, but he had turned his head to the side to see the damage. "I'm not paying for this."

You were breathing heavily, and your hands were tangled in his hair, your body shaking from the aftershock.

He turned his head to look back at you, and his dark eyes studied your face.

You were a mess. You had bite marks along your neck and chest, your lips were swollen, your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was rising and falling rapidly.

Logan's eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were parted. The way his hair was a mess, and the fact that his eyes were darker than usual made him look extremely attractive.

You couldn’t help but notice how completely out of breath he was and all the sweat and the heat radiating off his body.

He was hot, literally.

"You, uh," you swallowed and tried to keep your hands steady. "You want to take a dive in the lake?"

It took a few moments, but eventually your question had registered, and you have never heard this man laugh like he had right now. He completely lost it, and he was laughing.

And it was a deep laugh. One that could make someone feel safe. One that could make anyone fall in love with him.

His laughter died down, and he turned to look at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "I think I'll pass."

"Oh," you breathed and bit your lip. "You don't know what you're missing."

Logan stared at you, and his hand moved from the bed to trail down your stomach. Blood was coating his knuckles from the five-second fight that had taken place when his claws had popped out, but he didn't seem to care.

You were staring at him, and the way his dark eyes were boring into yours was intimidating.

"How about," his hand slid down further, and the tips of his fingers touched your lower abdomen, "I take a dive in the shower with you instead? Can’t drown in the tub."

Your eyebrows were raised, "Am I that fragile that a simple shower will kill me?"

You were obviously joking; that soft banter had been something the two of you had always done, but there was also a hint of curiosity.

He sat up to look at you. His eyes were darker than before, and the way his hands were running along the expanse of your torso was sending shivers down your spine.

"Says the girl who slipped through ice," he leaned down, his arms caging you in, and his forehead was pressed against yours. "You really are—"

Crack.

Call it what you will: fate, destiny, bad timing, but there now, there was no way in hell he’d escape the expensive bill the motel would surely send.

The bed completely gave out.

It had taken a few seconds for it to register, the sudden drop and the loud noise. But, once you had, now it was your turn to laugh.

And boy, did you.

Your laughter filled the room, and your entire body shook. He started to blame it on the production of the bed, of course, but you knew deep down he couldn’t escape the big fat bill the motel owner was going to send.

He even got up to try to find another possible explanation, and as you pulled his jacket closer to cover yourself, you watched him try and fail to find one.

The smile never left your face, and when he turned to look at you, his dark eyes were studying your expression.

"You think this is funny?"

"Very," you grinned and leaned up on your elbows. "How about we go out for dinner tomorrow night, Edward?"

Logan's eyebrow raised, and he stared at you. You could see the visible disappointment on his face, and it was amusing.

"Alright, come on," he took hold of your arms, and pulled you out of the bed, jacket and all.

"Where are we going?" you asked and let him lead you out of the room. "The shower?"

"Yeah," he nodded, and led you into the bathroom, "I think it's time I teach you how to swim."

You grinned, "We have no hot water, remember?"

"Then, I’ll just have to make sure you don't get cold, won’t I?"

[ilwonuu]

𐦍༘?can i 𐦍༘⋆

↬ choi seungcheol

𓇣 pairing- nonidol!cheol x fem reader, dom!seungcheol x sub!reader, bestfriend!cheol x fem reader, friends to lovers<3

𓇣 summary- your best friend calls you late at night for something other than a innocent hangout.

𓇣 warnings- dumb confessing love to each other, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, cum swallowing, kissing, MDNI, lmk what else

𓇣 a/n- this is just a random fic that u wrote a long time ago.. i liked it enough to post so lmk what you think!! should i write a part two? ALSO IM BACK FROM LITERALLY NOT POSTING FOR DAYS!!!! im posting a lot of fics today<3 luv u guys 😡

tossing and turning in your bed has gotten you wide awake. you’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past hour. it now being 1:30am as glance at your clock.

you sigh closing your eyes again before you start to get a call. you groan reaching for your phone. seeing it’s seungcheol you make a confused expression, pressung answer.

“cheol? it’s so late what’s up?” you question and he just sighs. “okay- um this is gonna sound crazy but can i pick you up? i’ve been thinking you all night.” he confesses. his voice sounding tense but lust filled.

“thinking about me? what do you mean?” you are beyond confused now, wanting him to explain it. of course cheol has said something like this to you before, but this time it feels different.

“just let me come get you and i’ll explain then. can i?” he asks. you don’t even know why but your mouth is immediately saying that you would love for him to pick you up.

you having no control when it comes to cheol. you sigh again as you force yourself out of the warmth of your bed to grab some pants to throw on.

quickly changing as you know cheol, how fast he would get to your house. speaking of, your phone lights up with a text from the boy telling you he’s outside. you slip on your slippers and head out of your house into his car.

“well good morning to you.” you say sarcastically as you get into the passenger seat. “can i just drive and explain? it’s kind of a lot to take in.” he starts to drive to your guys usual spot to watch the sunset. you couldn’t do that now obviously…

“so.. were you asleep when i called?” “no unfortunately i haven’t been sleeping very well and these were one of the completely sleepless nights.” he sighs not taking his eyes of the road.

“i’m sorry i hope you can sleep better tomorrow.” he says looking at you for a moment to give you a soft smile before finally arriving at your spot.

“are you gonna tell me why you wanted to pick me up at 2 in the morning?” you turn your gaze to him and he just nods. “don’t freak out okay-“ he cuts himself off.

“y/n- i’m in love with you. and everyday i’m more and more in love with you. i couldn’t get confessing to you off my mind. i wanted you to know in person.” he says looking at you for a reaction, response, anything.

“cheol i-“ he sighs thinking he already knows what you’re gonna say. “i know you don’t feel the same. i had a feeling you didn’t but i just need to tell you okay? it was killing me and i just don’t want anything to be weird now-“ you stop his words with your finger.

“cheol shut up. i’m in love with you too.” you confess as well catching him completely off guard. “wait are you serious? don’t mess with me that’s not funn-“ you cut him with a kiss against his lips.

“you believe me now?” he nods pulling you to kiss him again. “you don’t know how bad i wanted to do that.” he admits with a deep sigh.

“cheol-you know-i- me too.” his hands intertwined with yours. you feel so safe with him. you want nothing more than to be his. you want him to be yours.

“y/n i- please let me kiss you again.” and that’s how you ended up here. on your knees in the backseat next to your best friend, reaching for his dick as he fucks his fingers into you.

“cheol-“ he smirks down at you. “feel good baby? keep going.” you nod at his words finally pulling his dick out of his pants. shocked at the size of course. you have never been with anyone with a dick this big- nearly coming on his fingers.

“go ahead, let me see you baby.” he’s looking down at you with intimidating eyes. you give his dick a couple strokes causing him to hiss but mindlessly ruts his hips up with your hand.

you kitten lick the tip of his dick not breaking eye contact with him. a load groan erupting from him. his fingers are starting to fuck into you faster. your moans against him making him crazy.

“fuck just like- that. feels so fucking good.” his hips moving with your mouth as you fuck yourself back onto his fingers.

“look at you. o-oh fuck” your mouth speeding up on his cock. his fingers curling inside of you causing you to moan. you gag on his dick as his hips start to meet your mouth.

you cum on his fingers hard as you feel him start to fuck your mouth. he fucks his fingers into slowly before pulling them out to bring them up to his mouth.

he hums before groaning when he sees you looking up at him. he pulls his fingers out his mouth, his hand inching to your ass rather quickly.

“i’m gonna- fuck i’m coming. you’re so beautiful.” his cum shooting deep into your mouth as his hips fuck up with his groans.

you keep eye contact with him as you swallow. he groans trying not to fuck your mouth again. you sit up to kiss him.

“you’re so pretty.” he gives you a big smile as the two of you get dressed. you blush and look away from him. “want to come to my house?” he smiles at you.

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙰𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚊 - 𝙰𝙱𝙾 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

ft Unknown Omega/First Heat, stepcest, claiming|mating + Daddy Kink, fingering, belly bulge, creampie, knotting, breeding

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own BNHA or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: includes stepparent-stepchild stepcest and large age gap(R: early 20s, A: late 40s-early 50s), obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

WC: 4,375

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

“Daddy! Can you drive me to the mall? I gotta get my phone fixed!” You called down the stairs to your stepfather. While you had your license, you didn’t have your own car and your stepdad’s was the only car you could use, though never without his permission.

“Sure thing, sweetheart! Just meet me in the car when you’re ready to go?” You heard his deep voice call back up to you. His deep, gravelly voice had an odd effect on you today. You had always known his voice was hot, though you tried to not let your mind wander too much. Today, though, it sent a shiver down your spine and just about made you weak in the knees. Literally. You felt your knees almost buckle below you.

“What the..” You muttered but just shrugged it off as your mind still being a little hazy from sleep. So you continued to slide on your clothes and pack your messenger bag.

“You almost ready, princess?” As you heard his voice again, the same shiver shot down your spine and a warmth planted itself in your lower belly. Now chalking it up to simply being hungry, you just grabbed your bag and threw the strap over your shoulder.

“Coming, daddy!” You heard the door close though it didn’t latch and you jogged down the stairs to meet your stepdad at his truck.

“Morning, princess. What’s wrong with your phone?” He asked when you climbed into the passenger seat.

You looked over at him and noticed his long black hair was tied back in a loose bun that hung low on the back of his head and his stubble was growing back from when he’d had to shave it for a meeting with the school board of the High School where he works. He wore a tight-fitting long sleeve black shirt and simple dark blue jeans with his normal black boots. His normally tired eyes didn’t quite seem tired but they were still lidded in an easy manner.

“I have no clue when it happened but the screen is entirely cracked and it looks like someone ran over it with at least a dirt bike..” You grumbled, twisting to pull your seatbelt across your body, leaving a hint that your stepbrother might have been responsible, though your stepdad seemed to gloss over it. He probably chalked it up to your constant butting heads with his son.

“Huh, well, hopefully, they can fix it quickly, it’ll be bad if no one can reach you if you go out on your own.” The rumble of the engine shook the truck and he started on his way to the super-mall in town since that was the closest place with a cell phone shop.

“While we’re there do you wanna get some food? I’m starving!” You announced with a slight laugh, seeing an amused smile playing on the Alpha’s features as he shook his head at your dramatics.

“Sure, princess, we can get some food. You okay with the stuff they got in the food court or do you wanna check anywhere else out?” He asked glancing for half a second at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hmm.. Well, I’ll probably have to leave it with them to see if they can salvage it, or at least my data, so we should probably stick close.” You reasoned, thinking of places in the mall with any good food.

“Good thinking, we’ll get there and see where our bellies take us.” He chuckled, patting his hand down on your thigh which made you laugh more with his sentence. He fully turned to look at you with his amused smile when he finally parked at the mall, which you hadn’t realized you’d arrived at.

Having been so caught up in conversation, you hadn’t realized that you felt really warm and a haze starting to infect your mind. As you moved to leave the car, you felt an uncomfortable throb in your nether regions. Pushing it to the side in favor of getting your phone fixed, you trudged forward with the tall black haired man into the mall.

“You feeling okay, sweetheart? You look a little red.” Said man asked, lifting his hand to rest it on the side of your neck opposite him, slightly wrapping his arm around you. The touch on your scent gland felt better than you ever could have imagined and your instincts all but screamed at you to curl into his body, but you resisted any and all reaction.

“Y-yea.. Maybe it’s just the summer heat catching up to me, I guess I might have put on one too many layers,” You reasoned, forgetting that you only wore one layer over your underwear, as just a tank top and leggings.

“Hmm.. Okay, but if you start feeling off you tell me, alright? I’ll drive you home and come back to grab your phone if I need to.” He kept his arm around your shoulders, though he removed his hand from your neck. The loss of contact made you inexplicably want to whine. ‘It’s probably just because I’m feeling weird so I want the comfort or something..’

“‘Kay, thanks, Daddy.” You slightly leaned into him with a content breath and he just wrapped his arm further around you as you both walked through the bustling hallways. Finally reaching the cell phone shop, you were glad you didn’t have to wait too long to reach the desk.

“How can I help you- Oh! Aizawa Sensei! What are you doing here?” The green-haired Beta teen behind the desk greeted the black-haired Alpha.

“Midoriya,” Your stepdad greeted back with a slight nod, “I’m here with my stepdaughter, her phone is busted so we need to get it fixed.” He simply explained, vaguely gesturing to you with a glance, you still being tucked into his side and still looking slightly flushed.

“Oh, hello! Are you feeling alright?” The Beta, Midoriya as it seems, asked with worry upon seeing you flushed and leaning into your stepdad.

“Mhm, fine, thank you, just a little off today,” You offered with a smile which seemed to appease the boy.

“Well, alright then! What seems to be the problem?” He offered a smile of his own in return.

“You tell me,” You chuckled, fishing your phone out of your bag as you moved to stand on your own away from the comfort of your Alpha stepdad’s side. You placed your phone on the counter and badly concealed a laugh at the way the green-haired boy’s equally green eyes nearly bulged at the sight.

“W-What happened??”

“Not sure. I left it on the kitchen counter to make dinner and I couldn’t find it for an hour or so afterwards and suddenly it appeared like that in my room. I personally suspect my stepbrother..” You muttered at the end, earning another chuckle from the man beside you.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to blame him for something, sweetheart.”He teased, setting his hand on your shoulder as he sent another amused grin at you as he eyed you out the corner of his eye, making you ‘Hmph’.

“Well, I’ll have to check with the Techies if this can even be salvaged, and if not we’ll do whatever we can to retrieve your data. Either way, it’ll be a while so if you just want to stick around the mall until it’s ready, that’ll probably be best. Aizawa Sensei, we can let you know when it’s ready since the time can vary by whichever process is needed. Either way, I’ll get you guys a discount.” He lowered his voice with a mischievous smile and a playful wink.

“Thank you so much! You are a lifesaver! If I don’t have my phone I’ll pretty much be confined to the house without a chaperone,” You chuckled.

“Thank you, Midoriya. We’ll stick around near here until then.” Your stepdad said, giving a small nod of appreciation. After leaving your phone in the care of his student, the Alpha lead you out of the shop and started walking in the direction of the food court.

“You still hungry, princess?” He leaned down to speak into your ear from how loud the corridor was with the people yelling speaking loudly to each other. The closeness and feeling of his breath on your ear and neck sent a shiver wracking through your body and your knees weakened leading to you falling into his embrace, though it could easily be passed off as simply leaning back into him.

“Uhm.. A-a bit, yea..” You said, moving to lead him to the restaurant stations before he could question your stutter.

Once you arrived you were then even more flushed and you felt heat rising in every part of you, between your legs throbbing even more with a sort of cramping fire in your lower belly. You were panting and the haze in your mind had even more of a hold on you now. As you entered the dining area you could feel all the sensations overwhelming you.

“Daddy..” You whined, entirely falling into him for support as your legs couldn’t keep you up any longer.

“Y/n…” The Alpha muttered out your name, his arms wrapped around your back, keeping you up. His voice was huskier and thicker and when you brought your head up to look at him, you saw his pupils were blown and his nostrils were slightly flared.

“Daddy… It.. It hurts…” The heat was overtaking your body and the throbbing between your legs was verging on painful, your lower belly feeling just about on fire and an ache building inside that your instincts knew the solution to. It was your instincts that told you that that ache you felt was from the emptiness you were so hyper-aware of.

“D-Daddy… Please.. Make it stop.. Make the heat go away.. Please… Alpha..” As soon as his denomination left your lips he had your neck craned up, cradling the back of your head, his lips locked with yours. Your mouths moved clumsily against each other, teeth bumping and saliva leaking down your chins as your tongues tangled wetly. Your pheromones leaked out in droves and made every Alpha in the area turn and look.

‘Unclaimed Omega! Just presented!’ All of their instincts practically screamed at them. When they turned and saw an Alpha already ravaging you, their jealousy and competitiveness flared. A few started moving towards where your stepdad had hoisted you onto a table and started ripping your tank top off your body.

The second that your Alpha stepfather noticed other Alphas encroaching on his Omega- stepdaughter- he turned and planted his hands on either side of you. His hands, were far enough behind you to shield you from the Alphas trying to sneak a peak. He then let out the most vicious, possessive growl you’d ever heard from him and it sent another shockwave of need through you.

“A-Alpha..!” You let out a whiny moan, catching his attention once again. He dipped back in, making quick work of shredding the rest of your top, and started laving his tongue over your scent gland. His mouth pressed against your Claim Site made slick pool in your underwear and your need to submit grew even stronger. Suddenly, he stopped. He pulled away from your neck and clenched his teeth.

“Fuck… Can’t claim you… Fuck, I’m so sorry, princess.. I’ll make it stop hurting.. but.. I can’t claim you. No matter how fuckin’ much I fuckin’ want to, princess..” He muttered in your ear. You didn’t entirely know what exactly he was talking about but you knew it made you whine and let out a whimper. “Shh, it’s okay, princess. I’ll make you feel good, okay? That sound good, Omega?” At the sound of the title, it’s like something snapped in you and you didn’t let yourself wallow in the confusing distress his proclamation caused and only focussed on trying to get his clothes off, or at least enough that you could reach your end goal.

“Alpha.. Alpha, please.. Need.. Need a…” You tried to beg but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your stepfather assisted in your messy rush to get his pants open with one hand while the other lifted your chin to press another sloppy kiss to your already swollen lips.

“Need a knot, princess, ‘n’ I’m gonna give you one. Promise.” He growled out against your lips in his sultry voice.

“Yes!” Your instincts cried out that that was exactly what you needed, ecstatic that your Alpha was going to give it to you.

“Just hang on a second, ‘Mega, ‘kay?” He asked, trying desperately to stay calm and not lose his head. He knew that the second he gave into his instincts fully he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from claiming you. You, his little stepdaughter who still calls him Daddy, even though you’re already 19. 19, and only now presenting, as an Omega, at that, 3 years late which led to the assumption you were a Beta. Oh, how wrong they all were.

He deftly hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and shimmied them down enough to hook into your panties as well. Quietly instructing you to lift your hips as much as you could, he slid your leggings down to bunch around your knees. The scent of your slick grabbed the attention of everyone around, not just the Alphas, drawing in Betas, too. The power of a freshly presented Omega surely was a dangerous one.

“Fuck, princess… You’re drawing everyone’s attention..” Your stepdad growled out in a sort of prideful possessiveness like he was glad that everyone was not only watching but desperately wishing they could take his place, “They can all smell your slick..” He smirked as he bit his lip when he dragged his fingers through your lower lips. The feeling on your oversensitive cunt had you throwing your head back and letting out a loud keen.

“D-daddy..!” You moaned loudly when he dipped two fingers in, both going in easily with extra space left over. Taking advantage of that, he slid a third finger in to join them, adding to your pleasure, finally feeling a stretch.

“Fuck…” You heard one of the bystanders moan lowly, making you look around and notice all the people watching with varying mixtures of lust, jealousy, and fluster.

“Ahh.. Daddy.. They’re.. they’re watching..” You got out with a moan, though you were far from dissuaded by the audience.

“They are, ‘Mega. They’re all watching you. You’re so fucking gorgeous they can’t take their eyes off you..” Your stepdad told you, spreading his fingers and giving you an even more delicious stretch.

“Please! Alpha! Please! Need you.. Need your knot!” You begged loudly, purposely glancing around and watching the reactions of all the other Alphas around you. All their eyes were firmly on you, some of them had even pulled their own cocks out and began stroking them.

“Of course, princess..” Your Alpha promised, leaning in once again and pressed his lips to yours, “Whatever my Omega wants..” He let out a husky growl into your open and panting mouth as he reached to lift your legs to align with his torso in parallel.

Then, finally, you felt what you had been needing for what felt like forever. You felt his cock pressing against your awaiting hole, trying to press in, to fully breach you.

One gutsy Alpha from the crowd decided he’d had enough watching and wanted to shove his knot inside of you if your stepfather was going to take so long. He stepped forward and let out arrogant and dominating pheromones to hopefully make the black-haired man step aside and simply allow him to dominate you instead.

The moment your Alpha smelt the other Alpha approaching and sensed his intent, he did 2 things simultaneously that made you tense up in an immediate orgasm.

He whipped his head around and let out a growl so possessive and protective and downright threatening. The other Alpha not only backed off but immediately submitted and bowed his head, his arrogance having entirely evaporated.

At the same time, he slammed his hips forward and bottomed out in one thrust. You felt the tip of his cock immediately make contact with your cervix and it only confirmed what your instincts had been latently screaming. He is the perfect Alpha, he fills you perfectly and it’s as if he was always meant to be there, situated inside you, filling you wholly.

The growl he let out shook through his entire body and in turn, it reverberated inside you as well. You felt the vibrations against your clenching walls and you even felt it where his pelvis was pressed flush against the backs of your thighs. The neatly trimmed hair at the base of his dick pressed right against your clit.

“F-fuuucckk-!” You nearly screamed at the instant feeling of fullness. Your stepfather’s hands gripped tightly against your legs, still up and flush to his chest, forcing himself to keep his hips still to let you adjust to the size. He hadn’t given you time to accommodate him as he went in so he worried he would only harm you if he started right away.

“P-please!! D-Daddy-! Move! Move! Please!” You could only beg for what wholly occupied your hazy mind, only knowing your need to be thoroughly filled and bred. That was all he needed to hear as he leaned forward, just slightly, enough to let your knees fold over his shoulder.

Giving you a silent warning with his eyes, he started moving his hips, pulling out until only the tip was left. From there, he immediately began a rough pace. The table he had lifted you into, which you vaguely noted at some point was bolted to the floor, began to shake with the force of his thrusts. His left forearm wrapped tighter around both of your thighs as his other hand snapped to grip your waist in a way that felt like it was divined.

“Fuck, Omega.. Fuck, princess.. You feel so fucking good,” his stubble scratched pleasantly at the flesh of your thigh as he spoke, nipping them every once in a while, “so fucking perfect, ‘Mega..” His words began to slur as he lost himself to the feeling of your cunt gripping down on him like a vice.

“Alpha.. Alpha!! Need.. need your cum, please! Fuck, Alpha, please!!!” You simply shouted out what your Omega was telling you, not even knowing if you were getting any coherent words out at all, though that didn’t matter to you. Not to you, not to the raven-haired Alpha plowing into you, not to any of the bystanders enjoying the show.

With your head thrown back in pleasure from the delicious scrape of your stepdad’s cock against your walls, you could faintly gather that a couple of Alphas had paired with the watching Betas. They plowed into them at the same rhythm you felt your hips clashing with your stepdad’s. It seemed at least one had even already knotted and was simply humping in tandem.

Many other cocks were visible as well, being fucked into fists or simply teased, some were buried in the throats of Betas and the few other Omegas alike. You almost felt envious of the Omegas getting to choke on a cock, your mouth feeling empty for a split second before a loud cry of pleasure was ripped from your throat.

Your stepdad had used his Alpha Claws to shred your leggings right down the middle and, almost simultaneously, pressed your knees to your chest. He leaned forward even more, adding a slight burn to the backs of your thighs, though you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your knees were now thrown over both shoulders as he relentlessly pounded into you, hitting all new spots from the new angle.

You could feel his cock head drag over your g-spot before it rammed into your cervix, again and again, as if it were demanding entry for itself. Your lewd moans and the wet slapping of skin against skin, along with the loud squelch of your cunt, still gushing slick were reverberating around the entire dining area. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sounds reach all the way back to the Cell Phone Shop.

Soon enough, you felt the beginning of his knot forming and catching on your hole the more it inflated. The feeling of it pushing its way into your sopping hole, again and again, was going to drive you insane. After a few more thrusts and the recognition that his knot was nearing full, your Alpha stepfather shallowed his thrusts just enough to only leave his knot out until he reached full capacity.

His thrusts stayed fast but eased up on their force, making you let out an instinctive whine. You needed to be filled. Filled to the brim! No shallow thrusts! No soft thrusts! You needed a knot!

Luckily, it seemed your prayers were answered almost immediately as his knot reached full inflation and after only a couple more thrusts, he rocketed his hips into yours and shoved his knot inside you. The stretch of his large knot made you cry out in ecstasy from the sting of it forcing its way inside you. Finally. Finally! You had the knot inside you that you so desperately needed.

Mere moments after his knot was fully settled inside you, you felt his hot cum shoot out inside you and fill you to the brim. It was only then that you had been able to notice that his cock alone had managed to cause a bulge in your belly from how deep it reached and the bulge only seemed to grow with how much seed he was implanting in you. In your womb.

Faintly, as if from far away, you heard most of the audience you had wracked up reach their own ends, some inside of someone, others into their hands.

“Alpha..” You breathed contently, letting out a sigh of relief at finally being filled with both knot and seed, and at the ache being released from your legs as he moved to let them rest comfortably beside his hips. You looked down and gently placed a hand, aching from how hard you had been gripping the edges of the table,(though you don’t remember doing so) over the swell of your stomach, smiling weakly at the warmth it emanated.

“Princess…” Your Alpha responded, lifting his hand to place it over yours, “Do you feel that, ‘Mega? That’s where you’ll be carrying our pups. I’ll keep you full with my cum for your entire heat and make sure… Make sure that you’re carrying my pups.” You looked up and met his onyx eyes, his hair loose from his low bun and falling in his face, making him look like a being of pure beauty and sex sculpted by the Gods themselves. He had a lazy yet confident grin on his lips, a mixture of yours and his saliva making them glisten, the faintest hint of his Alpha Fangs showing.

He looked like the perfect vision of an Alpha. The perfect vision of Your Alpha. He may not be able to claim you, but you wouldn’t let that stop you from declaring yourself as his. You would proudly carry his pups and submit to his every desire like the perfect little Omega for him.

Your Alpha leaned down and kissed you again, though this time it was slow and sensual and loving rather than the fast and wet, fiery passion it had been before.

“Love you, princess. So fucking much..” He panted against your lips, pressing another chaste peck before resting his forearms beside my head to keep himself up.

“Love you, too.. Daddy..” Your voice was slurred with fatigue, both from the exertion of being perfectly bred and from the pure exhaustion your first heat had shot through you.

You didn’t know when, but you slightly stirred awake from when you had, apparently, passed out, at the sound of a low growl. You were still mostly asleep so you couldn’t comprehend much, but you could tell you were now being held against your stepdad’s chest as he sat in what seemed to be a booth. You vaguely recognized that he had growled at an Alpha who had gotten just barely too close to you both.

The protectiveness lulled you back into a comfortable sleep against his chest, happily breathing in his pheromones. You hadn’t been able to even realize if you could smell his pheromones earlier, your mind too occupied by the physical sensations you were receiving.

When you awoke again, you were situated in his truck, buckled up as he pulled out of the parking lot. You realized you were in his shirt and some new pants that seemed to have been bought just earlier. You felt an ache in your hips and between your legs, one you knew you wouldn’t trade for the world. Tiredly, you dragged your hand to rest over your lower belly once again.

“You finally awake, princess?” Your stepfather’s husky voice asked, seeming more than content. Looking over you found him shirtless and smiling at you as he waited for the light to change. You gave a nod with a matching grin, singing contently.

“Yea.. I’m finally awake..” You spoke, voice hoarse from your loud moans and cries, though you couldn’t be happier.

“I’m awake..” Your Omega purred happily, the sound emanating from you, too, filling the truck with the sound of a happy, filled, and bred Omega.

You could feel the heat calming in your body, leaving you with an exhausted form feeling aches all over and a feeling inside you that you couldn’t pinpoint. All you knew was that your Omega was completely and wholly content and happy. You felt inexplicable giddiness and ecstatics, like everything had gone according to some grand plan.

You couldn’t seem to bring your hand away from your belly, feeling like you were meant to hold it. To cradle it.

‘Who knows? I’ll just have to figure out these instincts as I go.. Maybe it’s an Omega thing.’

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog

[baurbiediv]

silk press

rafe cameron x black!gf

content warning: smut (wrap b4 u tap) use of “mama” like twice, go read the rest, i don’t wanna spoil it pookie

authors update: yooo, this shit is NOT proofread, if you see any mistakes mind your businesssss!!! 😭😭 mdni!!

the sound of drake’s ‘cameras/good ones do interlude’ could be heard over the sounds of heavy panting, the smell of weed filling the air along with your soft whimpering, “r-rafe.. s-stop you’re gonna mess up my h-hair-“ you breathed out, hand faintly tapping on his lower stomach. but before another word could escape your lips, rafe grabbed your chin, shutting you up.

“move your hand away from my stomach or i’ll stop.” you quickly moved your hand as you gripped onto his arm for dear life. so now here you were, getting your shit pounded in cause someone couldn’t control himself, it amazed you how this man had you folded in half like a pretzel, your legs were almost pressed into your chest, knees shy of being able to touch your chest thanks to rafe’s big hands, his nails digging into the skin on your thighs. rafe pushed your dress further up your stomach, wanting nothing more than to be closer to you.

but what what more could this man have possibly wanted? he was balls deep inside of his beautiful girlfriend, watching her eyes threaten to roll to the back of her head, the small necklace he bought you with his initial ‘r’ studded in diamonds, placed perfectly on your chest, just the sight of that had his dick growing hard inside of you. rafe’s hand snakes down and pressed down onto your stomach, causing a loud moan to rip from your lips, rafe’s arm just seemingly wasn’t enough for you, he was quite literally fucking you dumb. his hips ramming into the plush of your ass. “you feel me right there?” he asked as he grabbed your hand, pressing your hand down on the bulge. thank god for this empty lot covered in trees or this would’ve been a real nasty sight to see. rafe’s blacked out jeep with the passenger door open, your feet sitting pretty on his shoulders, his hand holding the nape of your neck, a mix your cum and his from previous orgasm spilling out of you and creating a sticky white ring around the base of his dick.

rafe kept an arm extended around the nape of your neck, keeping your head upright. he loved when he had you like this, melting under his touch. “hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of your face. your eyes were threatening to close on him as you felt the tip of your orgasm on your tongue, “i need you to keep those pretty brown eyes on me mama, you hear me?” you nodded, as you did your best to keep your eyes open just like he asked you to, but of course he made that impossible, because you felt the calloused fingertips of his ring and middle finger rubbing on your swollen clit. your mouth fell open as he caught notice of this “shhh, i got you, i got you.” he whispered as he leaned in closer to you, opening your legs wider, allowing him to shove his dick deeper into you. his fingers sped up on the swollen bud, not letting up.

your moans progressively getting louder and louder, the only way of shutting you up was rafe lightly squeezing your neck, his lips ghosting yours, “if you make one loud fucking noise, you risk getting us caught, you don’t want that do you?” he asked, you shook your head almost instantly, you really did try your hardest to pay attention to what he was telling you, but you couldn’t. he looked so good, sweat covering his forehead, neck and chest. his gold chain resting nicely on his chest as it shined under the dim light of the car, along with that god forsaken black tank top, but you nodded along to his words not thinking anything of it, your legs started shaking, your stomach feeling funny.

rafe’s dick was hitting all the right places, he had your your toes curling, “s-shit rafe s-low downn!!” you squeaked out, his movements never halting, “i-i’m gonna c-cum!!” you arched your back off the seat, rafe smirking, “i got you, come on.” he said, rubbing your clit faster, applying more pressure. your hand flew to his stomach as your juices splurted over his fingers, his abs and lower stomach and dick. your body fell back against the seat, your thighs feeling sticky, “hey that was cute and all but i’m still not done.” rafe mutters before pulling out of you, you whine from the lost contact, and before you know it he’s pulling your legs further out of the car and flipping you over onto your stomach, “r-rafe baby there’s no room-“, you were cut off before rafe’s pushing his dick back into your sensitive pussy, his left hand pushed down on your back to deepen your arch as much as he could while his right hand made its way back to your hair, “i don’t care,” he moaned loudly pushing your head further down into the seat, the sound of your ass clapping against his stomach has rafe’s head going crazy.

you poorly attempted to cover your mouth, whines slipping out occasionally, this all he wanted. you placed your hand on the console for support. this was all he ever wanted, he was able to fuck his pretty girl, y/n, and he in fact he believed she was prettiest girl on kildare and he knew he wanted you the minute he spotted you at the country club with your family. and what happened? he got exactly what he wanted, he was a smooth talker and he talked his way right a relationship with you, and this was the outcome.

your hand of course made its way back to his stomach, this time removing his hand from your head and pinning your wrist down onto your back, your whimpers grew louder, “rafe, it’s t-too muchhhhh” you whined, “that’s okay, you can do it, i-i’m close..” he groaned loudly, hearing him panting behind you, his hips hitting harder and deeper, you felt the familiar feeling of your pussy squeezing around him. “where do you want me?” he breathed, squeezing the skin of your hips, your overstimulation pushing both you and rafe to the edge. “inside p-please,” you whimpered out feeling hot spurts of his cum shoot inside your pussy. rafe pulled out of you, your hips jerked and your legs shook a little. he pulled his boxers and nike sweats back up as he presses a kiss against your lips before smiling. he closed your car door before making his way to the passenger side. you slowly closed your legs as you sat up looking for your black thong, “first you fuck up my silk press then you steal my thong??” you huff.

“‘m sorry baby, i’ll pay for you to get your hair done again and who cares about that stupid thong, i’ll buy you 10 more, how does that sound?” he looked over at you, as he sat back in his seat. your arms were crossed but you couldn’t help the smile that was evident on your face.

he leaned over the console, “gimmie a kiss.”

he said, you obliged and leaned over and kissed his lips.

“i love you y/n.” “i love you more rafey.”

did you guys miss me?? 😏

[madelynraemunson]

i neeeed you to hear me out on this one okay. okay okay so the song is casual by chappell roan and its about like being super intimate w a guy but he still tells his friends you're just a casual fuck. like some of the lyrics are "i've heard so many rumors that i'm just a girl that you bang on your couch" and "knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out, is it casual now?" so like. eddie munson. angst. and reader whos fed up with him being so cocky to his friends ab how he gets her off while he brushes her off. PLEASE hear me out 🫣

IM HEARING YOU ALL THE WAY OUT 😩😩🗣️

(as someone who dated a literal INCEL in high school who was charismatic to all and manipulative to none but me this fucking triggered me. i see you boo)

CW: misogynist behavior, adult themes, 18+ minors DNI

eddie sweetie, this isn't you :( but without further a due...

"If you have to go around telling people that you're a good person, you probably aren’t a good person."

incel!asshole!modern!eddie x fem!innocent!reader

WC: 1.3k words | part two here

Ever since you became exclusive with the ‘Town Freak’, your friends have constantly been ripping your ass a new one.

They were all so wrong about Eddie Munson. Because beneath the rugged, edgy persona he likes to put on every day (spewing his ‘Abolish-The-Status-Quo’ Manifesto atop an unsteady table in the cafeteria) lies a woman-worshipping gentleman, a soft, romantic, misunderstood love-sick puppy who would do just about anything to know you like the back of his hand.

Your dream boy.

"No one ever wants to date the nice guy," Eddie would say to you, alluding to himself. You’d constantly deny his claim. “But the jocks? The rabbits in band? The chess club dweebs? Oh yeah, without a doubt. Anyone but the freak."

It all made you think Eddie was created perfectly for you. That there was some sort of invisible string in the halls of Hawkins High, waiting for just the right moment to pull you two together. And when you two kissed that one day after detention, his hands snaked gently around your waist behind the rusty, faded bleachers out by the stadium, it felt like a match made in heaven.

“You gonna be my girl?” Eddie grinned into you, stroking your cheek, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Mine and mine only?”

“Yours,” you whispered breathlessly to him before reeling him in for another blissful peck.

And soon, lonely afternoons in study hall turned into D&D campaigns with him and his friends. Mundane weekend errands turned into fishing trips with him and Wayne. And soon quiet, anxious car rides became karaoke and head-banging sessions. Once aimless and confused, lost in the melody of life, suddenly all the love songs were about Eddie. You finally found the one.

It all leads you to believe your friends were just jealous of you. True friends would be over the moon.

This afternoon you had a surprise for Eddie. Just last week, you lost your virginity to him and were still swooning over how caring and tender he was with you. Surely, that is the bare minimum for a guy, but the bare minimum is so hard to come by nowadays. Cookies for Discord night with his friends was the least you can do to show how much you appreciate your boyfriend.

After extracurriculars, you rush home to get the oven going, throwing down in the kitchen to make the best snickerdoodles Eddie will ever have. And after one last look in the mirror, fixing your flirty skirt and your plump glossy lips, you set off to Forrest Hills Trailer Park.

Eddie has his headset on so he doesn’t hear your multiple knocks at the door. You knew he would be home though, dude’s got nowhere else to be on a Friday night. Eventually, you decide to hobble out back, looking through one of the windows by the kitchen that he always cracked open just so he doesn’t hotbox the place.

“I’m right behind you, right behind you!” Eddie warns his friends as he nears them in the game. “Gonna need some backup from Gareth the Great.”

Since he’s focused on his electronics, you decide to shoot him a text message. Hopefully then he’ll come to the door.

Hi baby 💕 I brought you some homemade snickerdoodles :)

You can’t help but smile when you hear your custom text-tone go off. But, to your surprise, you watch as Eddie turns a blind eye, chucking his phone onto the nearby couch instead of answering your text.

What the fuck?

"Ugh. She's texting me again," your boyfriend grumbles to the boys as he proceeds with the game. "She's kinda annoying, to be honest. Gonna wait a while before I respond.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Pressing your ear against the mesh blinds that separated you two from each other, you decide to listen in for a while longer.

“Don’t you think you’re stringing her along, Eds?”

Yeah, don’t you think? you think to yourself.

“Yeah, but… free pink,” Eddie sneers with a tsk and shrug. “However I want, whenever I want. She just makes it so easy.”

Eddie then starts to spill the details of taking your virginity, about how you were “chimping out” underneath him on his couch while Wayne was sleeping. What was a sacred ordeal to you was made to sound like a cheap, subpar experience to Eddie. His commentary sends the boys into a spiral, fits of hooting and hollering like it was the best stand-up bit they’ve heard in a long time. Resentment simmers within you. This can’t be the same boy.

“How’d you get a pretty girl like that anyway?” comes another voice in the call.

“Pretty fucking easy,” Eddie scoffs. “You just tell her exactly what she wants to hear. Just say what she says right back to her and the panties come right off. She’ll think you’re soulmates.”

The room erupts with virtual laughter, followed by obnoxious sound effects that the app enables users to send to one another. Your stomach begins to twist, the forbidden cookie dough you ingested just an hour prior threatening to make its way back up.

“HAHAHA,” someone in the chat cackles. “Eds will do anything for that roast beef.”

“I’ve always been keen on them deli meats. Am I right, boys?”

The snickering commences again. Eddie thanks the Discord guys as they extol him in compliments, encouraging him to write a playbook on how to get a proper lay. Eddie ends up shutting down the idea. But not because he thinks it’s fucked. No. It’s because he claims he doesn’t “have to try” and that you just “put out” at the drop of a hat.

The tray of Eddie’s undeserved cookies shakes in your hands as your body begins to tremble. You’re going to be sick. And just when you think it can’t get anymore twisted, it does.

“Hey, what do you think about that girl from math class with the fat ass?”

“Harmony?”

“Yeah.”

“God if she’s into me too I’d dump my girl in a heartbeat,” Eddie swoons.

Of course he’d gawk over Harmony. Outside of Tammy Thompson and Chrissy Cunningham, Harmony Heathers was next up to bat for the Queen of Hawkins High.

“She’s got fucking beanbags where her ass should be. I’d do just about anything for her.”

“And her.”

“Yeah and I’d do her.”

"I'd do her too," Eddie admits.

That’s enough.

You’ve heard enough to know that Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was just like the rest. Throwing the snickerdoodle cookies you made for him into the trash, you sprint back to your car and set off for your house, music blaring the entirety of the commute.

My friends call me a loser 'Cause I'm still hanging around

I've heard so many rumors That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

You slam the door to your room the moment you get home. And before stripping down and hopping into the safety of a warm shower, you send Eddie one last text.

Actually, you know what? It’s over. Don’t talk to me ever again.

Washing the grossness off of you was the only way you felt you could feel okay.

You wanted the remnants of Eddie OFF of your body. Hysterically sobbing, you attempt scrub off all the dead skin on your body with a loofah. Frustrated tears roll down your face.

I thought you thought of me better, Someone you couldn't lose

You wanted all the dead cells off of you. You wanted a new body. You wanted a new life.

And you couldn’t wait to grow newer, thicker skin. A new shell of you. It will be skin that Eddie can never say he touched.

You said, "We're not together" So now when we kiss,

Fuck Eddie Munson.

I have anger issues

You give the weird kid a chance, and then suddenly he acts like you’re the freak.

[wannabehockeygf]

Could you write something about Clayton where he and the reader are those friends who are really into each other but never find the moment?!! Like, when one is single, the other is not, they are always pinning for each other, have kissed a couple of times,... But then he moves to Utah, she lives there too (oops) and they are finally both single

Those Eyes - Clayton Keller

“When we’re apart, and I’m missing you,

I close my eyes, and all I see is you,

And the small things you do.”

summary: best friends for life, until you realize you love him and everything seems to keep you apart.

word count: 5.9k

pairing: clayton keller x fem! reader

warnings: alcohol

notes: - ty for the request!! i loved writing this & i hope you love reading this! - i really like flashback stuff, so this is kinda that but more like life phases. - this includes the use of Y/N... don't worry i hate it too. - this was originally called "casual" because i wanted to write a literal representation of "knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out" but it didn't feel right here. - ^ clayton keller is definitely a munch... just saying. if anybody wants to request that I will happily do it. - this is mostly proof read, although there may be a mistake here or there.

forever thinking about his dimples

***

Being best friends with Clayton Keller wasn’t for the faint of heart.

He drove you off the walls. You didn’t know why, but every time you saw him interact with somebody else, anybody else, even his best friends, he was different. More cocky, egotistical, albeit still a good guy. 

It was just when he turned his head, and those eyes that were either blue or green, you could never tell, met yours and he switched up. He didn’t dap you up and ask you ‘what’s good.’ He would, instead, pull you into his arms, tell you he missed you no matter how long it had been since you last saw each other, and run his hands through your hair gently. 

And this had been happening since you were both young, awkward and growing into your bodies. Clayton always had this soft spot and it was driving you absolutely nuts that you couldn’t figure out why. Why did he treat you so well? You were just friends, right? 

You’ll get over it.

*** 

Fifteen years old 

The tears are flowing, and you feel sobs wracking your body as you pedal, pedal as fast as you can on your rusty bike to find some escape. Rain patters down on you, trees going by in blurs, mocking you and this indescribable, screaming pain. 

Finally, you reach your destination, wiping your runny nose with your forearm as you discard your bike carelessly on the driveway and run up to the front door. The ring of the doorbell lingers in your mind, providing a small sense of semblance before the door finally swings open.

When Clayton opens the door, his familiar presence is like a lifeline in the darkness. He’s wearing an old band t-shirt and gym shorts, his hair tousled as if he’d just woken up. He takes one look at you, his eyes widening in concern, and without a word, even though you’re completely soaked, he pulls you into a hug. He smells faintly of some citrus that you couldn’t put your finger on as you shove your face into the crook of his neck, your cries still all-consuming.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just holds you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. His embrace is warm, a stark contrast to the chilly rain. The rough fabric of his shirt, which was dampening by the second from a mixture of your tears and the rain, was comforting against your face, grounding you in the moment. 

You’re unsure how long you stay there, enveloped in Clayton’s arms. Minutes, hours—it all blurs together. But gradually, your sobs lessen, turning into hiccups and shaky breaths. He doesn't rush you or ask any questions, just continues his soothing motions, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

The sky begins to deepen into twilight, casting long shadows across the yard. The gentle chirping of crickets and the distant sound of traffic create a symphony that fills the silence between your breaths. The rain is persistent, carrying the earthy scent of the approaching night.

Finally, you pull back slightly, your cheeks stained with tears. Clayton looks down at you, ignoring that the both of you are still standing under the elements, his eyes searching your face with concern. His thumbs gently brush away the remnants of your tears, his touch feather-light.

“What happened?” he asks softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes, in this light, seem more blue than green, like the sky right before dawn.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "He broke up with me," you manage to say, your voice cracking. The words seem so inadequate, unable to capture the tumult of emotions inside you.

A scowl replaces the expression on Clayton’s face, and he immediately pulls you back into him. “That asshole,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

Clayton’s words are a fierce growl, rumbling through his chest and into yours, but it only makes you clutch him tighter. The warmth of his body is the only thing keeping the cold at bay, the cold that has seeped into your very bones since the breakup that happened no less than forty-five minutes ago. You can't help but think how he always knew just what to say—or not say—to make you feel better. Tonight, it’s the protective anger in his voice that makes you feel seen, cared for.

He releases you slowly, keeping his hands on your shoulders as he steps back to look at you. His gaze softens, and the fire in his eyes dims slightly, replaced with a gentle concern. He runs a hand through his wet, tousled hair, a gesture that’s become so familiar to you over the years, and sighs.

“Come on,” he says, his voice firm but tender, “let’s get you inside.”

***

Eighteen years old 

“With the seventh overall selection in the 2016 NHL Draft, the Arizona Coyotes are proud to select Clayton Keller.”

Immediately, you rise to your feet, squealing at the top of your lungs. You hug the first person you see, which is your little brother to your left, and then turn the other way, hoping to get one of those hugs that you love more than anything else, but you can’t. 

Because you’re not there. You’re at home in St. Louis, watching the draft in Buffalo from your living room with your family. 

Your eyes are locked on the screen, watching the camera pan to Clayton as he stands up to hug his family, immediately shaking off his suit jacket to make his way up to the stage. You watch him shake hands with the officials and put on the Coyotes Jersey and hat, but you can’t help that your heart aches looking at it so normally when all you want to do is be there with him. 

Stand up on your tippy toes and let him pick you up, twirl you around, and hold onto you for as long as he can before it gets awkward. 

It never did. But that was just your bond. 

Best fucking friends. 

This young man with the disheveled, mousy brown hair, was once a little boy. A little boy that you always loved dearly, although you never told him that. A child who always stood up for you when you got picked on, and then a teenager who always wanted you to come to his games; stayed up with you on long nights, talking about everything and nothing. Talk. You needed to talk to him, now.

That’s why you decided to skip out on the basic ‘Congrats’ text. You wanted to stand out because recently, you didn’t feel like best friends. You felt like an outsider in his dream; the side character in the fairytale where the prince finds the fair maiden and locks her up, and they live happily ever after. 

You wanted to be the one getting swept off her feet.

So that night, you’re hunched over your laptop which is perched on top of your puffy white comforter, scrolling for cheap flights to Phoenix. He was going to be there tomorrow, and you weren’t going to miss out on your opportunity – this was your grand romantic gesture, your attempt to finally tell him what you’ve been keeping bottled up your entire childhoods.

Grabbing your phone which had been lying beside you, you tap the first person in your contacts, and let it ring out. And it rings for a while, long enough that you think you’re getting ignored, but when the call finally gets accepted, you’re so excited you don’t even provide any greeting. “Clay, I had an idea, and what if I come to Phoenix tomorrow? We can celebrate after you’re done your team stuff, just the two of us, and I think I have enough money saved for the flight. If I don’t, I can–” You start ranting, only to be cut off by a voice, a voice that’s definitely not Clayton’s.

“He’s busy right now.”

The abrupt, unfamiliar voice stops you mid-sentence, and your excitement crashes into a wall. You pull the phone away from your ear to check the screen, confirming that you did indeed call Clayton.

“Who is this?” you manage to ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease creeping in.

The woman on the other end of the line chuckles lightly, but there’s an edge to it that sends shivers down your spine. "His girlfriend,” She starts, her tone bitter, “Clay’s busy. You do know he just got drafted, right?" she continues, her voice dripping with even more condescension.

Your heart stops. Girlfriend. The words bounce around your mind, refusing to settle into a coherent thought. You’re sure you’ve heard him talk about her before, in passing, but you always assumed she was just another one of his fleeting flings, someone who would come and go like the others. Now, though, it feels like she’s cemented her place in his life, in the space you once thought was yours alone.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, your voice a mere whisper. Your fingers grip the phone so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The air in your room feels suffocating, your once bright idea now crumbling into dust.

“So he’s kind of busy with the draft and all,” She continues, her tone annoyingly polite. “But I can tell him you called. What’s your name?”

“My name?” You feel a sting of anger rise in your chest. “I’m his best friend. I’m… I’m Y/N.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end, and you imagine her realization dawning, her eyes widening in recognition. “Oh, right. He talks about you sometimes. Anyway, I’ll let him know.”

The call ends before you can say another word. You sit there, staring at your phone, the screen going dark. The weight of the conversation presses down on you, a heavy, suffocating blanket. The room feels colder, the glow of your laptop screen a harsh reminder of your now-crushed plans.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. The reality of the situation sinks in, the words repeating in your mind: girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend. Clayton has a girlfriend. You’re not sure why it hurts so much, why the idea of him with someone else makes your chest ache. You’ve been friends for so long, shared so many memories, and yet… there’s always been something more, something between you that you’re sure you weren’t imagining.

***

Twenty-one years old

It’s New Year’s Eve in the biggest party city in the desert, you’re barely legal, and you’re surrounded by some of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen.

The crowd around you is electric, buzzing with excitement as the countdown to midnight approaches. You find yourself in a posh club in Scottsdale, the kind of place with velvet ropes, bouncers in crisp suits, and a DJ spinning tracks that make the floor vibrate beneath your feet. The lights are dim, save for the flashes of neon that paint the room in hues of pink and blue. Bodies move in sync with the music, a sea of laughter and joy as people celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of another.

You scan the crowd, your eyes searching for the one face you’ve been dying to see since you landed in Phoenix. Clayton had invited you to celebrate New Year’s with him, insisting that it wouldn’t be the same without you. He’s somewhere in this crowd, and the thought of him sends your heart racing, although you hadn’t seen him yet tonight. 

The anticipation of knowing he’s in the same room as you, finally laying eyes on him, of feeling his arms around you, is almost too much to bear. It’s been months since you last saw each other in person, and the distance has only made your feelings more intense.

You make your way through the throng of partygoers, your eyes scanning the room for any sign of him. The music pulses through your veins, the bass thumping in time with your heartbeat. You pass clusters of friends taking selfies, couples sharing intimate moments, and groups of guys cheering over shots. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and cologne, mingling with the faint aroma of champagne.

Finally, you spot him. He’s near the bar, leaning casually against the counter, talking to a few teammates. His presence is magnetic, drawing your eyes to him like a beacon in the chaos. Clayton looks effortlessly handsome, as always, his mousy brown hair slightly tousled while attempting a slick-back, his eyes catching the light in a way that makes them seem more green than blue tonight. He’s dressed in clean, black slacks paired with a short sleeve white button-up with the top buttons undone, and you can see enough bare skin that it makes your heart race.

As you approach, Clayton's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. His smile widens, and he excuses himself from his friends, making his way over to you. The sight of him walking toward you, his arms opening wide, feels like coming home.

"You made it!" he exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug. His familiar scent surrounds you as he lifts you off your feet, a mix of cologne and something so distinctly Clayton. You cling to him, burying your face in his shoulder, trying to memorize the feeling of his arms around you.

"Of course, I did," you murmur, pulling back slightly as he puts you down to look up at him. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

He grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come on, let's get a drink and catch up." He takes your hand, leading you to the bar. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

You settle into a corner booth, his friends and teammates surrounding you, the noise of the club muffled slightly by the high-backed seats. Clayton orders your favorite drink without even asking, a small gesture that warms your heart– something only someone who had been to copious amounts of bad highschool house parties with you would know. 

When the waitress leaves, you turn your head only to be met with the entirety of the group, mostly men but a few women, glaring at you. A tall man with dark features and a moustache speaks up first, “So, Kells, who’s your friend?” He asks, smiling while his gaze flickers between the two of you.

“This is Y/N,” Clayton says, his voice warm and steady as he introduces you. His arm moves from his side, discreetly enough that you don’t even notice until it’s wrapped around your shoulders, his hand gently toying with the strap of your dress. “My best friend.”

Your breath immediately catches in your throat, and you feel as if the room is closing in on you at his touch. You’re here, in this glamorous club, surrounded by the bright lights and pulsating music, Auston fucking Matthews just asked for your name, but all you can focus on is Clayton—his proximity, his touch, his smile, and the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

The clamor of the party fades into the background as your gaze locks onto Clayton’s face. He’s laughing with his friends, his eyes crinkling at the corners, revealing that light green that never fails to mesmerize you. You catch glimpses of his confidence, his easy charm, the way he commands attention without even trying. And yet, when he turns his focus back to you, it’s as if the rest of the world evaporates. His eyes soften, becoming a private universe where only the two of you exist.

As the night progresses, you find yourself progressively more drunk, along with everyone else, and those gentle touches that Clayton had been giving you escalate into something so much more. Everyone’s sweaty and shitfaced, so what’s there to do besides dance? Dance crazy and fast, dance with whoever you want, dance against anyone you want.

Which was what was happening between you and your best friend.

The pulsating beats of the club seemed to sync with the erratic rhythm of your heart as you danced with Clayton. The music wrapped around you both like a tangible force, drawing you closer together, drowning out everything but the immediate presence of each other. His hands roamed your back, fingers grazing the fabric of your dress, and you felt each touch like a spark igniting a long-simmering ember in your chest.

The world outside the booth seemed to blur, the lights and faces turning into a vague, colorful haze. All you could focus on was the sensation of Clayton's body pressed against yours, the heat of his breath against your ear as he leaned in, whispering something you couldn't quite catch over the music. It didn't matter; his voice was a soothing murmur, a balm to the constant ache that had been building in your heart.

Every movement, every glance, is a tormenting reminder of what’s been left unsaid, a history of suppressed emotions and unspoken confessions. Clayton's touch, as it grazes the bare skin of your upper back, sends shivers down your spine. It’s not just the heat of the club or the effects of the alcohol—though both contribute—it’s the sheer weight of the feelings you've been holding back. 

The beat of the music slowly fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of your heart pounding in your ears. His breath is warm against your neck, and you can hear him this time when he speaks, his voice is low, almost lost in the cacophony of the party. “You’re amazing, you know that?” His words are a whisper, but they pierce through the haze of noise and excitement, landing straight in the pit of your stomach.

A small gasp escapes your lips, the sound barely audible over the music. You can’t trust yourself to speak without betraying the raw emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. Instead, you lean into him, feeling his warmth seep into your very core. Clayton's hands wander to your waist easily, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress, the sensation both comforting and electrifying. The way he looks at you—eyes half-lidded with a mixture of affection and something deeper—makes you feel as if you’re the only person in the room. It’s a gaze that holds secrets and promises, a look that makes your chest tighten.

The countdown to midnight begins, and the excitement in the club reaches a crescendo. The anticipation of the new year is palpable, but it’s overshadowed by the realization that this night, this moment, is slipping through your fingers. And as the countdown reaches zero, the club erupts in cheers. The room is filled with the dazzling light of confetti and the sound of fireworks outside, the euphoria of the new year is a sharp contrast to the bittersweet sadness that you feel. Clayton’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, his lips grazing your ear as he murmurs something along the lines of “Happy New Year.”

You know it’s a bad idea. Everything in your fucked-up mind is telling you to stop, but all you can do is pull back. Just enough to see him with a slight look of confusion, and to grab his face and bring his lips to yours, with everything about it feeling so insanely right.

***

Twenty-four years old

“I’m moving to Salt Lake City.” You hear yourself blurting out, still looking straight ahead of you at the big screen of the drive-in movie you were at. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you can only pick out the shallow sound of his breathing before he finally speaks up, “What?” He says, simply.

"I'm moving from St. Louis," you repeat, your voice softer this time, almost drowned out by the hum of the car engines around you. You dare a glance at Clayton, his profile illuminated by the glow of the screen. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed ahead, but you can see the flicker of emotions playing across his features—confusion, hurt, and something else you can't quite place.

"Why?" he finally asks, turning to face you. His eyes, now a deep shade of blue, search yours for answers. "Why now? Why so far away?"

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. "He.. got a job offer," The words feel hollow, rehearsed, even though it’s the truth. You had been dating your boyfriend for two years, and things were getting serious enough that you agreed to move with him halfway across the country.

As the words hang in the air between you, the silence becomes suffocating, pressing down on your chest. Clayton's eyes bore into yours, searching for the truth behind your explanation. The movie screen flickers with images, casting shadows and light across his face, making his expression unreadable.

"Why now?" he asks again, his voice softer but edged with a hint of desperation. "I thought you were happy here."

"I am," you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. "I mean, I was. But this job... it's a big opportunity for him. It could change everything."

"And what about us?" The question is heavy, heavier than you would like. Clayton's gaze never wavers, his eyes reflecting the turmoil inside him. "What about me? I come back here to see my family, am I just not going to be able to see you anymore?"

“This isn’t about you, Clay,” you say, your voice trembling. But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. Everything had always been about him, about the way he made you feel, about the unspoken connection that had tied you to him since you were kids.

Clayton's jaw tightened, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. "Bullshit," he spat out, his voice a low growl. "You think I don't know you better than that? You think I don't see through your bullshit?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You tried to blink them away, but they spilled over, running down your cheeks. "Clay, please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. This is my future.”

"But what about our future?" Clayton urges you. The word "our" reverberates in your mind, stirring up memories of shared laughter, late-night conversations, and the countless times he had been your rock in moments of despair. You see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own.

“There’s no ‘our.’ there’s no ‘us.” You find yourself admitting, and it hurts. It hurts really fucking badly, worse than it should for a person that’s in a so-called happy relationship. It feels as if every little bit of effort you’ve put into you and him has dissolved, leaving only a heady mix of disorientated tears.

Heartbreak. You were heartbroken, and you didn’t know why. You shouldn’t be.

You hear Clayton take a deep breath, one that goes all the way into his chest then out again, before speaking. “Do you really mean that?”

A lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to respond. Instead, you look down at your hands, clenched tightly in your lap. The car’s interior light illuminates the shadowy outlines of your fingers, trembling slightly. The sight makes you feel small, as if the weight of your decision has become too much for you to bear alone.

The film on the screen blurs into an abstract dance of colors and light, and you find yourself caught in the same whirlwind of chaos. The movie's characters smile and laugh, their lives moving forward in a way that feels painfully out of reach. The contrast between their joy and your heartache makes your chest tighten, as if the world is conspiring to remind you of what you're losing.

"I didn’t want it to come to this," you finally manage to whisper, your voice cracking as you look out the windshield at the blurry lights of the drive-in. "I never thought it would hurt like this."

Before you could even process what you just said, Clayton’s leaned over the centre console, and his mouth is on yours. His lips are urgent, desperate, as if he's trying to pour all the words he's never said into this one kiss. All the pain, confusion, and uncertainty vanish, leaving only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, and the overwhelming intensity of this moment. 

Clayton’s hand cradles the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can’t bear to let you go. You can feel the desperation in his kiss, the way his breath hitches when you respond, parting your lips to deepen the connection.

Your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. It mirrors your own, a frantic rhythm that speaks of all the years you’ve spent dancing around this, all the unspoken words and suppressed emotions finally breaking free since the last time three years ago. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of the familiar and the unknown, and it makes your head spin, your thoughts a chaotic whirl of longing and fear.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, Clayton’s eyes search yours, his gaze intense and searching. His lips are slightly swollen from the kiss, his breath coming in shallow pants. “Why does it have to be like this?” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “Why can’t we just… why can’t we figure this out?”

“Because,” you say, your voice breaking. “Because I have to go. I made a commitment. I’m in a relationship. And you… you have your own life in Arizona, your own dreams. I can’t be the one to hold you back.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your face with those eyes that have always seen straight through you. “You’re not holding me back,” he says softly. “You’ve never held me back. You’re the reason I’ve gotten this far. You’re fucking it for me, on everything I am.”

Tears continue to spill down your cheeks, and you can feel your heart breaking all over again. "But we can't keep doing this," you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We can't keep pretending that we're just friends when we're so much more. It's not fair to anyone."

Clayton's eyes search yours, his expression a mixture of pain and determination. "Then let's stop pretending," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Let's be honest about what we are, about what we feel. I can't let you go without a fight."

The words hang in the air, heavy with possibility and fear. You look into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and the hope that mirror your own feelings. It’s a terrifying and exhilarating moment, something that could either heal or break you completely.

Taking a deep breath, you make a decision. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

*** Twenty-six years old 

It’s funny how the world closes in on itself, and everything comes back around.

The Arizona Coyotes were no more, due to numerous reasons, and now your best friend is a Utah… Hockey Club. You hadn’t really kept in touch, but as soon as you heard the news, you called and said you had to meet up since you still lived in Salt Lake City, even after your relationship ended.

The day was today, and even though you didn’t want to cancel, you had to since a massive storm had hit and it was pouring rain.

You stare out the window, watching the rain pour down in sheets, drumming against the glass like a constant reminder of the storm inside your heart. The storm had hit unexpectedly, drenching the city and canceling your long-awaited reunion. You sigh, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. Disappointment because you wanted to see him, relief because you weren't sure if you were ready to face the feelings that had never truly gone away.

You close your eyes, remembering the way he looked at you that night at the drive-in, the desperation in his voice as he begged you to stay. You can still feel the warmth of his lips against yours, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The pain of leaving him, of saying goodbye to the one person who understood you better than anyone else, still lingers in your heart.

You open your eyes, wiping away a tear that has slipped down your cheek. You can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to move on, to let go of the past and embrace the future. But how can you, when every fiber of your being still yearns for him?

And then there’s a knock on your door.

The knock echoes through your apartment, cutting through the quiet hum of the rain. For a moment, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You weren't expecting anyone—certainly not today, not in this storm. A flicker of hope ignites in your chest, an irrational, wild thought that maybe, just maybe, it's him.

You push the thought aside, scolding yourself for being so foolish. But as you make your way to the door, your breath quickens, the anticipation coiling tight in your chest. You open the door, and there he stands, soaked to the bone, rainwater dripping from his tousled hair onto his pale cheeks. Clayton's eyes meet yours, and the world seems to still.

He's here. He's really here.

"Clayton," you breathe out his full name, your voice barely above a whisper. A thousand thoughts race through your mind, but they all jumble together, leaving you speechless. All you can do is stare, taking in the sight of him, his presence both a balm and a wound to your heart.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s panting heavily, the amount of emotion in his eyes hard to even begin to decipher, because before you can get another word out, ask why he’s here, his hands are on your face, pulling it towards his. 

He’s kissing you, and you hope it’s for real this time.

As Clayton's lips press against yours, everything you've been holding back crashes over you like a tidal wave. The warmth of his touch, the urgency of his kiss—it’s all too real, too overwhelming. Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging at the damp strands, and you can feel his heartbeat through the soaked fabric of his shirt. It's beating as fast as yours, a wild, erratic rhythm that speaks of all the time lost, all the words unspoken.

The rain pounds against the roof, a steady drumbeat that echoes the chaos inside your mind. You can taste the salt of tears mixed with the rain on his lips, and you wonder if they're his or yours. There's a desperation in the way he kisses you, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away if he doesn't hold on tightly enough. And maybe he is. Maybe you both are.

You pull back, gasping for air, your foreheads resting together. The world around you is a blur, the only thing in focus is him—his wet hair clinging to his forehead, the way his chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the intense look in his eyes that makes your knees weak. You search his face, trying to find the right words, but they elude you. How do you explain the years of longing, the pain of being apart, the confusion and guilt that comes with loving someone you're not supposed to love?

Clayton's eyes soften, and he brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, his touch achingly tender. “I couldn’t stay away,” he confesses, his voice raw and vulnerable, “God, I tried, trust me, but even if it’s just one day, I can’t take the risk of letting you slip away like I have my entire life.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a heavy blanket. How many times have you dreamed of hearing him say those words? How many nights have you lain awake, your heart aching for him, wishing that he would finally acknowledge what you both feel? And now that it's happening, it's almost too much to bear.

“I thought about you every day,” he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Every time I step onto the ice, every time I score a goal, every time I’m alone in my hotel room, I think about you. About us. And it hurts, because I know we could have had something amazing if only I didn’t waste my time on other people who could never make me feel the way you do. If I had the courage to say something sooner. To tell you I’m in love with you.”

You stand there, drenched and trembling, your heart pounding in your chest as Clayton's words hang heavy in the air. The weight of his confession, the raw honesty in his eyes, feels like a knife twisting in your heart. You come to the conclusion that, yes, you’ve dreamed of this moment for years, imagined how it would feel to finally hear him say that he thinks of you, that he wants you. But now, as the reality of it crashes over you, all you feel is a mix of relief, fear, and an overwhelming sadness for the time you've lost.

The rain continues to fall, a relentless patter against the roof, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the storm raging inside you. You look up at Clayton, his face inches from yours, and you can see the vulnerability etched in every line, the uncertainty in the set of his jaw. It’s a look you’ve seen before, in moments of quiet intimacy, in the fleeting touches and stolen glances that spoke of a connection deeper than words. But this time, it’s different. This time, there are no barriers, no pretense. Just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something terrifying and beautiful.

You want to say something, anything, to ease the tension, to reassure him, to tell him that you’ve felt the same way, that you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. But the words won’t come. Instead, you reach up, your fingers trembling as they trace the outline of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips. The simple act of touching him sends a jolt through you, a reminder of how much you’ve missed him, of how much you’ve tried to deny the truth of your feelings.

Clayton’s breath hitches at your touch, and you see his eyes flutter closed, as if savoring the sensation. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back.

You’ll never know the colour of his eyes, and that’s okay because he’s here. With you.

And in that moment, you realize just how much you’ve been lying to yourself. Your entire life, you’ve told yourself that you could move on, that you could be happy without him, but deep down, you’ve always known the truth.

There's no moving on from Clayton Keller.

[dollfaceksj]

still don’t know my name | jjk (m) TEASER

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ TEASER WARNINGS: mean!jk, bratty!reader, biker!jk 🤤,neighbor beef, jk is soooo tired of reader’s antics, reader is tired of jk’s meanness, reader has to rely on jk for now …, reader literally doesnt know his name and vice versa so no names are used, minors stay away from this fic

➥ WORDCOUNT: 863

a/n: hi. heres a snippet of the upcoming jk mini three-shot i’ve been working on with my friend. feedback n reblogs r appreciated <3

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

“Are you–” you pause. Try to collect your thoughts. Take a deep breath. “Will you drive safely?”

And for the first time ever, his smug exterior falters. The scrunch in his brows has softened and so have his cold black eyes.

“Promise,” is all he says as he hops off his motorcycle with style. Him doing so with the pouring rain in the background makes this entire view seem like it came straight out of a movie.

Except he’s the villain.

You walk up behind him and abruptly halt in your tracks when he opens the seat compartment of his motorcycle and pulls out an extra helmet. He hands it to you without even glancing your way.

You huff and take it from him, examining the inside as if he were carrying some kind of disease which makes him scoff.

“You’re so fucking annoying. Just put it on,” he snaps as he reaches for his own helmet, clicking the fastener open.

You turn your back to him, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of him as you try to figure out how to click open the fastener. It’s different from any you’ve seen before.

A deep sigh rings in your ears from behind you until a low voice mumbles, “Let me do it.”

Why did that make your knees almost buckle?

He walks around you, leaving his own helmet abandoned on the seat of his bike and closes whatever distance you two have left as he snatches the helmet out of your hands.

Rude little shit.

“I can do it myse–”

“No, you literally can’t,” he snaps as he clicks it open and shoves it onto your head without warning. “It’s like you’re always trying to piss me off.”

You innocently blink up at him, pretty lashes kissing your brow hairs with every blink you send his way. He doesn’t seem to care, though, as he tilts your chin up with the tip of his index finger, his other fingers safely clasping the fastener. After he’s checked whether the helmet’s on you the way it should be, you can’t help but let the words—that have been dying to come out—roll right off your tongue now that his attention isn’t on the safety of his passenger anymore.

“Trying? It seems like my attempts have been successful.”

At this, his eyes shoot right at yours, staring at you through his thick brows. He’s got an unreadable expression on his face, somewhere between disbelief and confusion.

Your eyes shift to his tattooed knuckles for a split moment as he drops his hands from the fastener of your helmet.

Hmm. That’s weird.

They vaguely look familiar to you.

Don’t they kind of look like–

No. There’s no fucking way. Don’t ever think that again.

His tongue peeks out at the corner of his mouth, toying with his lip rings for a few moments. “So, you agree that you purposefully try to get on my nerves?” he reiterates, big black eyes piercing through yours so intensely that it snaps you out of your trance, the back of your head and neck starting to heat up.

“Well, I have to get my lick back somehow, or no?” you say with a teasing purse of your lips. You brush past him and head to his motorcycle, eyeing it intently and examining it as if you know anything about fucking motorcycles.

Harley Davidson Motorcycles.

Whatever that is.

An annoyed scoff escapes him but you don’t pay much attention to him, not when he’s already walking up behind you. He reaches past you and takes his own helmet back into his hands, shoving it onto his head before fastening it. He throws his leg over the seat before sinking down and turns his head to glance over his shoulder at you.

A gentle sigh pushes past your lips as you inch closer and try to think of ways to get onto the bike without touching him. You don’t want to touch him.

Your first attempt already fails miserably when you try to get your leg over the bike without holding onto anything for support.

“What the fuck are you even doing?” he groans, hanging his head down because he’s tired of watching you being a fucking idiot.

“Trying to get on, what does it look like?” you snap back with a pinch of a bratty twang to your voice as you stand there with your hands on your hips after your failed attempt of getting on without touching him.

You watch as he physically fights the urge to yell, your eyes focused on the way his entire body tenses, specifically the way muscles in his shoulders and arms twitch. The rain only showers down on the concrete in front of you, harder and harder. The longer you stay stubborn, the more slippery the roads become.

You’re lucky this store has a canopy, shielding you from the rain you’ve already been drenched by.

When he’s finally had enough of your shenanigans, he gets off the motorcycle in one swift move and turns to you. He closes the distance between you two so quickly that only one of your feet can take a step back from the sudden proximity before he gently places both of his hands on your waist yet firmly pushes your body backwards—in the direction of his motorcycle.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

— follow me on twitter and instagram for free exclusive content like sneak peeks, scrapped content, brain storming and to better interact with me ♧♡

— 🍀

@mygdday @coletaehyung @btspurplesky @kaitieskidmore97 @marvelbun @nini_07777 @8514238 @llallaaa @s3l3n0phil3 @agrika @ahgasegotarmy116 @canyon-lwt @boyfriendtaekook @s4yok0 @mochminnie @chimmisbae @muah-minhoe-8 @bloopkook @whoa-jo @dreami-yoonkookie @earth2fae

[f4iryjeons]

At your own risk 🎃 (M)

 BAD BOY! JEONGGUK X READER

Established Au (I'm so weak for these man...)

WARNINGZ: this is literally PWP, rough sex, unprotected, ass eating and oral sex (f receives), semi public, degrading, spitting, lowkey town bully jk, jk carries a switchblade, jk is mean, he's really a bitch in this one, jk says he’d pull out but he lied, Jk is REALLY ROUGH .I think that's it idk. 

an: I just wanted to practice writing smut... that’s it. THIS IS VERY UNEDITED I've edited it.

word count: 3.7k 

The echoes of the past lingered in the present, like ghosts watching the living from the sidelines. The air was cold and harsh against your skin. You wished they’d close the windows already. Your heart was as heavy as the leaves plummeting from trees, and your mind appeared to be cloudy, much like the grey cloud filled sky. You were bored out of your mind. The winds were harsh, and the roads were empty, like a ghost town. Nobody could be seen for miles. Fall had come quicker than you’d thought, and while most were dressing up and going to parties, you were not. Instead, you were sitting in the empty diner your grandparents owned. “You’re still waiting for Jeongguk?” Your sister asked. She didn’t bat an eye when you didn’t reply, as she knew the answer. Instead, she just smiles and continues to whistle along to Monster Mash. “I’m closing up, so… go home reasonably. Don’t wait here all day. Make sure you lock everything back.” She says as she makes her way to the back. You’re still looking out the window, waiting for him. Jeongguk wasn’t the on time type, you knew better than to expect him to be on time. It was currently four pm. He’s always late to everything the two of you plan and you’ve learned to stop letting it bother you.

You’re straightening out your little red riding hood costume after putting it on. Your are kind of glad Jeongguk is very late. If he arrived earlier, you wouldn't have time to put on your costume. With your sister gone, you don’t have to worry about the judging statements from her, and ultimately your mother. You tighten the corset around your waist and attempt to pull the short dress down. It only stops at your upper thigh. No worries, your black lacy thigh socks cover a bit more skin than the dress itself. And finally, knee-high boots, laced up neatly, adorn your feet. You couldn’t wait to see Jeongguk’s reaction. He’s always said he wanted to see you in skimpy clothing, always wants to show you off.

It’s six pm when you hear the howling laughter of your boyfriend’s friends along with the screeching of his tires. Jeongguk is already out of the car by the time you come out of the diner, locking the diner up. His eyes are widening and there’s an excited grin on his face. One similar to that of a child in a candy store. Or, a kid opening a gift on Christmas Day. “I am sorry I’m late…” he trails off, looking you up and down shamelessly. He takes the cherry lollipop out of his lips as he leans down to kiss you. “Little red..” He mumbles against your lips. The two of you are pulled out of your trance when you hear his friend’s whistle. “Goddamn Yn!” One of them exclaims from the back seat of Jeongguk’s 1968 mustang. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, placing the lollipop back in his mouth, further staining his plush bottom lip a deep cherry red. He runs his hands through his gelled hair, “Shall we?” He invites, leading you to the passenger’s side, and opening the door for you. You cannot get over how hot he looks. He’s dressed like a greaser, and although it’s how he dresses any other day. Looking good in nothing but jeans, a black leather jacket, and a white t-shirt, it’s so on brand for him. The car only adds to his costume’s aesthetic, and it’s taking your mind for quite the ride. As you’re driving down the now filled streets, his friends are getting rowdier and rowdier. Oh, how you hated Jimin and Taehyung sometimes. “Is that Nick Watson?” Taehyung exclaims, poking his finger out of the window. You look at Jeongguk with an annoyed look. He just returns an apologetic grin. You knew what was coming next. Jeongguk isn’t exactly a model citizen, nor student. With your senior year of High School almost up, he’d made quite a name for himself. He was the typical bad boy, carried switchblades, wore leather jackets, ditched, and most importantly, loved to pick on underclassmen. He drives closer to the boy, slowing down to match his pace. “Hi Nicky..” Taehyung waves at the boy with a teasing smile. The boy looks at the car and groans. “What do you guys want?” He asks, visibly upset at the sight of your boyfriend and his friends. “Where the fuck is my English essay?” Taehyung asks, tone becoming dark at an alarmingly fast rate. The boy sighs, “I didn’t do it.” He shrugs, a shiver in his voice showing he’s scared. The boys don’t miss it. Jimin lets out an obnoxious giggle. “You sound like you’re about to piss yourself Nick!” The boys laugh out. Jeongguk doesn’t speak, eyes never leaving Nick’s form as he continues to walk. You hate when Jeongguk does this; he knows that too. Hence his silence. What’s even worse is you feel bad. You used to babysit his younger brother. You lean up so he could see you through Jeongguk’s window. “Hey Nick.” You wave at him, a very futile attempt to lighten the situation. The boy looks at you with a dazed look, mouth falling agape. “H-hi Yn, you look pretty.” He stumbles over his words a bit, eyes drinking in the few bits of skin visible from the passenger’s seat. Jeongguk doesn’t like flustered the boy becomes looking at you. He slams his foot on the brake; you yelp at the suddenness of his action. He pulls the switchblade from his pocket and points it out of the window. It’s pointed toward the young boy, and the look in Jeongguk’s eye cut deeper more than the blade could. The volatile illusion created by the darkness and the street lamps make him absolutely insane. The boy’s feet become stuck in their position as his eyes widen. “Listen to me… the Essay better be done by Monday, and I’m not fucking joking, do you understand?” The car goes quiet, and all is heard is crickets and echoes of laughter from the suddenly vacant streets.

Trembling, he nods. Jeongguk rolls the window up before driving off, leaving the boy behind in the smoke emitting from his exhaust.

Taehyung and Jimin bellow with laughter. Sounding similar to hyenas. You look at Jeongguk with disbelief and he ignores your look. He doesn’t enjoy disappointing you; he doesn’t even want to think about it. You huff in annoyance, turning your head to look at the bustling sidewalks.

When the two of you arrive at an abandoned house that was alive with loud, drunk young adults. You’re standing in front of the gates that are falling apart, and Jeongguk is right behind you, sensing your irritation. “An abandoned house?” you question, raising your eyebrow. Jeongguk gazes at you with an indecipherable expression before he pulls you aside. “You guys go ahead. We’ll meet you inside.” Jeongguk directs his statement to Taehyung and Jimin who are lingering on the steps of the house, but his eyes are looking into yours. You can tell be his locked jaw and the thick swallows he takes, he’s annoyed. “The fuck is your problem?” He inquiries, whipping out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. As he’s lighting it, you’re sighing, stepping back. “I really wish you didn’t do that.” You suspire. “Yeah, well, you wish I didn’t do a lot of things. Take it or fucking leave it, and drop the attitude.” It took a person with an abundance of patience to deal with Jeongguk. The boy was cruel, and it took someone who could look past these qualities to love him. You cannot do that right now. He is smoking a death stick and cursing at you. You cannot sit and have a conversation with him. You decide to walk away to let him cool down. He really doesn’t like that. He grips your wrist tightly. “Don’t fucking walk away from me while I’m talking to you.” He spits, letting you go.

He trusts you wouldn’t walk away. You were obedient, rarely defiant. And just as he thought, you stayed in place, crossing your arms as you look at the grassy ground beneath you. He sighs, “You know I hate that.” He states, putting the cigarette out, and stepping closer to you. The air that hits your skin is far from comforting, and the lump in your throat grows bigger. You knew Jeongguk would never hurt you physically, but he was still too rough with you. He doesn’t see an issue with how he speaks to you when he gets upset, his only excuse being ‘you deserved it.’ or ‘ you pissed me off.’. It’s taking a toll on you. He always expected you to listen to him, consider his concerns and fix things he didn’t like. But how you felt never mattered. If that’s how things are going to be, you should just end things.

“Don’t you dare.” He says. It’s sharp, but he doesn’t mean for it to sound that way. “Do not cry Yn.” He mumbles, trying to keep his tone in check. Your lip quivers and you turn away from him so he couldn’t see the tear that slips down your cheek. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. The hug is awkward as he’s holding you from the side, and you refuse to look at him. He doesn’t care though, he just rests his chin on your head. “Really, you’re a fucking idiot.” He murmurs. He doesn’t mean it. It’s really like a term of endearment, and he trusts you to know that. “Come on.” He tilts his head toward the yard of the large estate. You mindlessly follow him, his hand holding yours. The trees are tall, and the house becomes a distant memory as he leads you past it.

The trees. Woodsy, it only adds to your melancholy, as you know you think of how unfair he is toward you. He stops walking, but he only pulls you closer to him. You take in your surroundings; he led you deep into the woods that sat dauntingly behind the dated house. “Why are we out here?” You sniffle, wiping the few tears from your face. “‘Cause no one will hear us here.” You pause, “What do you mean?” He pauses briefly before grabbing you by the chin and stopping you from moving. He still doesn’t answer you as his hands fall to your back. He leans against a tree and his head falls into your neck. “Here you are… looking so sexy, so good, and you’re crying.” He states, shaking his head disapprovingly. He pecks your neck a few times, taking in your scent.

You’re frigid in his hold, allowing him to do whatever. His hands creep down to your ass, the dress eagerly riding up underneath his palms. You whisper his name with a warning, and Jeongguk ignores it. He pulls your body impossibly closer to his body and allows you to feel the erection in his jeans. “Kookie, no! What if someone catches us?” He cringes at the nickname but ignores it. “No one will catch us. Stop worrying and trust me.” He whispers against your neck, warm breath tickling your skin and leaving goosebumps in its radius. You can’t contain the moan building in your throat when his hands slip into your underwear. He’s just toying with the fabric, leaving ghost like touches on your inner thighs. “We can’t.” You try placing your hands on his wrists, but you can’t bring yourself to stop him. “Why?” He gently runs his finger of your moistening slit. You whimper, head falling into his neck. “We don’t have condoms.” You state. It’s impossible to look at him, not like this. You’ll crumble. He continues playing with the increasing amount of slick dripping on his fingers and spreading over your inner thighs. “I could pull out..” He offers. Alarms in your head are going off, and you’re about to lecture him about the irresponsible suggestion he made when he removes his hands from your underwear. You whine at the removal, and whine much louder when he brings his wet fingertips to his lips, sucking on them with tumultuous, lewd groans. “So fuckin’ good.” He mumbles, fingers still in his mouth.

You’re embarrassed at the amount of wetness that gushes out of you at the action. He knows you’re weak for him, and he knows he’ll get what he wants. “Get against the tree and bend over.” He whispers against the shell of your ear. He lets you go, and he stands behind you. You scramble to follow his instructions; you place your hands on the tree, bending over. He hums to himself. You can’t see him as you’re face to face with the bark of the tree. He moves closely behind you, his clothed erection touching your ass. He wastes no time pulling your panties down to your knees. “Fuck..” He whispers. You can hear the impact of something hitting the floor, and soon you can feel his hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them. His warm breath hits the plump cheeks. You gasp at the foreign feel of his tongue flat on your pussy. He drinks your growing wetness in contently, sighing every new and then. You cry out brazenly. His tongue dips inside of you teasingly before he pulls away. You whine, begging for him not to stop. There are a few silent beats before his grip on your ass cheeks tighten and you wince at his fingernails digging into your skin. You yelp loudly when you feel his tongue prodding at your tight, untouched hole. It’s new. He’d never done that before. He drags his tongue down to your core, slurping the juices that have gathered for him. With another pornographic drag of his tongue, he’s back, poking at your asshole. You rest your forehead on the tree, moans spilling out of you in surprise and pleasure.

His tongue is back on your pussy. He pushes his head further between your ass. He’s able to reach your clit. Your pussy was dripping. Juices were falling into his mouth as he poked at it. It’s so dirty, so perverted, the thought of your slick dripping into his mouth and him thirstily waiting. The way he drinks from your core like your juices were a nectar from the juiciest fruit in a magical forest. It shouldn’t make you so kindled. “You gonna cum?” He asks against your slit, his mouth not allowing you to reply as he keeps pulling moans from you. He slurps, every so often bringing the wetness up to your asshole. He pulls back for a moment, leaving you awaiting what he’ll do to you next. You stand by, cold air hitting your hot skin. It’s not enough to cool you down. You shiver, but it’s not because of the chill of the night. You sigh loudly when you feel his fingers; he rubs your clit. He is dragging you closer and closer to orgasm. You can’t shake the feeling of possibly being caught. The thought is licentious as you grow hotter. You can still hear the loud music screaming from the house through the woods. It allows you to become comfortable with your volume, not a care in the world as you cry out at every little thing he does. His fingers dip into your pussy, just for a moment. It’s so sweet, so fucking good, so euphoric for a small minute. He takes it from you. He was a cruel profligate. You want to turn around, yell at him, and you almost do until you feel his finger dancing around your virgin hole. You mumble his name, shakily, nervous. This was the first time you had done this. He was diving into new, deep waters. You wouldn’t stop him. It would be a lie to say you weren’t intrigued. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks, from behind you, he’s still on his knees. You can only nod, embarrassed at your obscene behavior. He lets out a hoarse chuckle, and it causes more juice to trickle down your thighs. “Such a slut… you wanna be fucked in the ass?” He hums, his finger smoothly pushing inside. It’s alien, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, it just feels weird. It feels like you’re being stuffed, like there’s something occupying your hole, and it’s weirdly making your pussy clench. You want more. You don’t have to ask though. He’s pushing in another finger so you’re filled by two. The stretch becomes uncomfortable, but it’s bearable, and you like it. You can’t stop whining, and you can’t stop clenching around nothing. Your pussy starts spasming when he fingers your ass, his fingers moving at a tolerable pace. “Look how wet you’re getting… you’re fucking disgusting.” He says. You cry out, shamelessly nodding at his words. He leans in, tongue out to collect your nectar straight from the tap. His fingers and his tongue speed up a few moments later. He’s energetically lapping up what you have to give as he continues to finger-fuck your ass at a now merciless pace. You can’t hold yourself up much long, legs and arms giving out as you cum harder than you’ve ever came before. He’s quick to catch you. His fingers are pulled out of your ass, and he’s standing, holding you up by your waist. Your back against his chest as you're trying to catch your breath. “Fuck… you squirted from that?” He teases, kissing your reddened cheek. He wipes the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. The sweet moment falls short as he roughly turns you around to face him and pushes you against the tree. Your head will kill you after this, but you can’t bring it yourself to care. He doesn’t break eye contact as he undoes his belt and pulls his pants along with his underwear down. There’s a quiet mewl caught in your throat when you see the red leaking tip of his cock. You swear you could feel your mouth water; you want to devour him. But you know he won’t let you. With his cock so hard, and desperate to be held tightly by your divine walls, he wouldn’t think of doing anything besides fucking you. He lifts one of your legs up, hooking it under his arm. Your leg dangles loosely over his forearm as you watch him stroke himself with his free hand. He leans in to kiss you, his cock sliding under your exposed slit. The kiss is wet and desperate. You cut yourself when your teeth scrape together, feeling swollen and desperate as your tongues tussle. Your grip on his hair is bruising, and he’s pushing you against the tree so hard you’re worried you’ll get splinters when the two of you are done. You arch your body, letting your pussy drape over his cock as he grinds over your slick folds. Your pussy lips cling to his cock, rivulets of excitement swelling as he changes direction, pushing the entire shaft in. You scream in surprise and pain. You whimper at the bittersweet feeling of his cock stretching you. “Baby, it hurts.” You whimper, your head falling limp against the tree. He just grunts, pushing into you until he bottoms out. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, feigning concern. You nod, whining at the vigorous stretch. “You wanna act like a fucking brat? You get treated like one.” He hisses, grabbing your jaw pitilessly.  He leaves his hand on your face, pressing your head into the tree, you whimper pitifully. You hate how much you love It. He’s fucking like you were an inanimate object, as if you were there for solely his pleasure. You hate how loud you grow at his remorseless pace. You hate how he grips too tight, bruises you with too much force. You hate how in control he is. You hate how you want it to stay that way. He groans loudly when he feels you gushing around him, smirking at you. Your eyes fall into the back of your head as your mouth feels pried open to let the lewd noises travel through the woods. You close your eyes and envelop yourself in the blanket of pleasure, groaning, mindfucked into another dimension. He feels a sudden rush of adrenaline as he approaches his high. Roughly, he grabs your face, forcing you to give him your attention. He shamelessly spits in your mouth, “Jump.” He grunts, bending down and placing your leg underneath his other arm. You cry, doing as he says, although its not as easy as it seemed. Your legs were like jelly and jumping felt like the hardest thing to do. You keep attempting to jump as he grows impatient, condescending chuckle leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking stupid, you know that?” He lifts you almost effortlessly against the tree. He continues fucking into you for the lone purpose of cumming. You cum, but he ignores it, he continues even with your tightening walls. You’re fucked into oblivion at this point, body spasming with each thrust. His upper body pulses correspondingly with each thrust, and you feel his seed bursting into you. You yelp as he’s falling against the tree, exhausted. “That was pretty intense.” For some reason, you can’t seem to speak. You just swallow and nod. He gently lets you down, you feet touching the floor but giving out from under you. You grip his shoulders for support. “We fucked each other up…” he trails off, chest heaving with each breath. After a short while of looking at each other, saying nothing, the fiery glare is fading.

“You do know I love you, right?” You just nod, your body falling into his as the two of you walk back to his car. He smiles, draping his arm around your neck and bringing you closer. You reach your hand up and check the side of his cheek. Gently, you stroke his face. “I’m exhausted..” you mumble, climbing into the passenger’s seat. He gets into his side, fastening his belt. “I have to take you back home.” You groan, getting comfortable in the leather seats. “Why don’t you just come in with me? You can leave in the morning.”

And he does. He sneaks into your house in the dead of night to hold you tight as the two of you drift off. You’re the first to wake up, but for once in your life, you don ’t do anything about it. That was by far your favorite Halloween.

[jeon-ify]

request from the deranged @haohaoshoe

for your own sake, 18+.

carved into you- levi ackerman 🩶

“DOM DOM DOM ASF LEVI ACKERMAN WHO LITERALLY THREATENS ME TO CUT MY THROAT OFF AND CARVES HIS INITIALS INTO ME OR SMTH LIKE THAT

also make me a deranged masochist who follows him like a good girl

and a lot of slapping

i’m his dumpster

he can use me as a fuckdoll

also

a lot of hair pulling

big dick levi

belt as a whip

tie as restraints”

…….

i have no words. here we go!!

��————————————————————————————

“no, we’ve been broken up for the past month now.” in response to your peers who are asking about your ex boyfriend levi, you sigh a breath of “relief” knowing that you don’t have to put up with his toxic psychotic behavior again.

“girl, who broke up with who?” she responds in shock. “are you sure you and levi broke up? it doesn’t seem like it. he’s still posting pictures at your favorite cafe.”

“honestly, y/f/n, i don’t care. i’m over him.”

“apparently, he’s not over you.”

“that’s embarrassing.” you burst out into laughter, your friend playfully slapping your shoulder.

you pull out your phone, blocking him from all socials. the last thing you need is him trying to win you back when you’re the one that left him.

you leave the party after a while. you step out of the front door of the unfamiliar house, seeing a very familiar black rolls royce in front of the house. you see levi step out of the car, standing against the door.

“get in the car, y/n.”

you burst out a laugh, in disbelief that he has the nerve to follow you here.

“you’re fucking delusional, levi.” you spit. you want him to go away, but you already feel your heart bursting from excitement that he’s here, and for more than one reason alone.

to show you that he’s not going anywhere, and neither were you. for as long as you’re living, you’re his to have. and god help anyone who took you from him.

“careful how you speak to me, y/n. you don’t wanna make a choice you’ll regret, hm?” he tilts his head, exploring and questioning your choice of words.

your feet move as if they have a mind of their own, drawn in by the sound of his deep voiced command. your skin crawls with arousal, levi shooting daggers into your legs with his eyes as you walk up to the passenger side of his expensive car while you just stand there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“get in the car, y/n.” he demands.

with no response, his voice grows louder, “get in the fucking car.”

you don’t hesitate to follow his direction, immediately getting into the passenger’s seat.

“where are we going?”

“you’ll see.”

as the car ride becomes longer, you wished you didn’t walk out of that party.

you both arrive to what you believe is his apartment, the building holding up to 30 floors and about 200 rooms on each floor.

“i’m not going down. what the fuck do you not understand about the part where we both said we were done? you’re fucking crazy, levi. if i wanted to be insane too, i would go to an asylum for fuck’s sake. leave me out of whatever sick act you have going on, cus im-“

you’re cut off by levi grabbing your wrist and dragging you with him up to his apartment. with one hand, he unlocks his door, tossing you into his bedroom.

“take your fucking clothes off. when you’re done, on your knees. mouth open, tongue out.”

he unbuttons the first half of his blouse, his silk chest peeking through the blouse. he takes his tie off, wrapping it around his knuckle and leaving the other half to hang. “levi, what are we-“ you’re cut off by a sharp slap to the left side of your face, earning a whimper from your soft throat.

“embarrassing? me still being in love with you is embarrassing? me putting it into your head that you were made for me and nobody else is fucking embarrassing to you, y/n? listen to me. no one will love you but me. do you understand me?” his voice raising, making it clear that you were in fact made for him.

“i don’t belong to you.” you mutter. you felt like he had a fucking magnetic field around you, you’re literally drawn to him no matter the circumstance. you’re lying to yourself. he can see right through your sick act. you’re both deranged, being attracted to his sick and psychotic possessive demeanor.

he bends down to your level, face to face with you as his hand reaches for his pocket, pulling out a black pocket knife. your heart sinks to your ass, afraid that he might actually slit your throat.

“yeah? why are you soaking my floors, then?” the knife pinches your jaw near your chin, forming a papercut-type of scar.

“why’d you get into my car when you could’ve said no? you could’ve called the cops on me, pretty girl.” he continues.

“just can’t stay away from me, can you?” he caresses your face, planting a soft kiss on your temple. your eyes roll back, sighing as his cock hardens in your gaze.

“please, levi, let me touch you.” you beg from beneath him, his eyes threatening to shut in arousal. thighs clenching, your neck veins become prominent in holding your moans in.

“look at you, you disgust me. close your eyes.” he tilts your head up and places his tie around your eyes, blindfolding you from seeing whatever he’s about to do to you.

“i’m sorry,” you gasp. using his knife, he runs it down the valley of your breasts.

“what do i have to do for you to understand that you belong to me?” he twists the knife slowly, poking your skin. you gasp as you feel your blood trickle down your stomach.

“i’ll fucking carve it all over your skin, hm? carve my initials into your pretty pearly skin. right here; L.A., what do you say?” his minty breath fanning in your face as he whispers, quietly but loud enough for you to hear.

“mmm,” you moan in pain, but wanting him to cut into you deeper, your arousal pooling beneath you and between your knees.

“should cut this little throat from the way you speak so ill of me. do you want that?” he grabs your throat, squeezing tightly.

“yeah? cut it then.” you choke out as your tears soak the tie in front of your eyes from the stinging pain. he chuckles from your masochism, making your legs wobble.

“you get me, good girl. we belong together. don’t you understand?” he whines out, almost pleading, but in the most demanding way.

he runs the end of the knife along your bare folds, rubbing circles on your clit. his cold hands contrast with the warmth of your pussy, earning whines from your throat. you hear his belt clanging as what you think he’s doing, landing a sharp whip to your thighs. your body jots as he hits you, making you cry out; your cheeks turning a flushed red.

“you get off on pain, but do you get off on embarrassing me? telling your bitch ass friends that i’m psychotic? i’ll show you psychotic, baby. stand up.” he undoes the tie from your eyes, your eyeliner smudged as he licks away your tears. you stand up as he looks away from you.

“levi,” your voice dry and your throat hitching from how much you’ve cried silently. your heart drops as he turns you around by your shoulders, as you sigh a deep breath of fear.

he brings the cold metal up to your back— the space between your shoulders, carving the letters L.A.. the cold air hits the open cut, making you wince in pain and pleasure.

“stop crying, shhh.” he runs his fingers through your hair, calming you down as he stabs into your skin, “gonna fuck you now, ‘kay?” he groans. you feel his almost solid length against your bare ass, anxious as to how he’ll fit you— given that you haven’t had sex in almost a year, and from how big he was.

he unzips his dress pants, knocking everything off of his dresser, bending you over the cold dark wood of his dresser. he brings his hand up to your hair, throwing your head back, then using his other hand to bring his belt up to your throat. he tightens the belt, using it as a leash, then pulling you up and wrapping the leftover space of the belt around his knuckle as he enters your hole.

“now, what were you,” he slams into your hips, “saying about me being embarrassing, hm?” he slams into you again, tightening the belt around your throat. you whimper in response, feeling the way his cock hits your cervix. again and again.

“you being in love with me is— hhhgh, embarrassing, levi. get over me!” you moan. he and you can feel yourself cumming already, already fucking you faster as you let yourself go.

“put that big ass mouth to use and tell me what the fuck you were made for, bitch.” he fucks you at an ungodly pace, your thighs shaking and ready to give out.

“f-for you to use! fuck, i can’t, please, it’s too much—“ your stomach and abs clench at the feeling of being used by your ex boyfriend, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“oh, but it wasn’t too much when you were begging me to cut you?” by surprise, he brings the pretty knife back up to your throat, almost slicing your skin open. you whimper in pleasure, clenching around him as the way he loses himself.

“fuck, you’re losing me, baby. keep clenching like that.” he groans, throwing his head back and pulling your bare back against his chest.

your legs shake as you push back onto him, fucking yourself on his twitching cock.

“yes! fuck, fuck fuck, feels so nice. wanna feel your pain, daddy.” you moan, laughing as you watch your reflection in the mirror— you’re just as sick as this fucker is.

“look at yourself. maybe you’re the psycho, pretty girl.”

“watch yourself cum. cum all over my cock, fuckin’ belongs to me. cover me in your cum.” he takes the belt off, licking at your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. you gasp, falling weak to his loose thrusts.

“take all my cum, fucking take what i give you like the bitch you are. there you go,”

he slows his thrusts, turning you around to fix your hair and make you “presentable” to go back home.

“look at that glow, guess i fucked you good, hm?”

“fuck you, levi.” you breathe.

“yeah?”

———

oh my god.

[avidfics]

Getting Closer to Sevika

A/N: Hi, usually I write about Vi, but Sevika has had me in a chokehold, so I had to give her some spotlight. Hope you like it.

Summary: You're finally getting one-on-one time with your grouchy superior, Sevika. She acts cold towards you in group settings, but today you will make her admit her feelings for you.

Pairing: Sevika x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not much. Fluff, some touching, teasing

WC: 3k (no clue how that happened)

Sunshine filled the sky. Well, technically, that was a lie. The sun wasn’t shining at all-the sky looked like it could rain at any minute. However, the gloomy weather could not dampen your anticipation because, for the first time, Sevika was aiding you on a task assigned by Silco. 

You bounce a bit in the driver’s seat of the truck as you wait for her to arrive. It wasn’t every day Sevika willingly went on an errand with you, not for your lack of trying. She had this uncanny habit of ignoring you, which she did when she was in a good mood. In a bad mood, she physically removed you from her sight. 

Was it lame that you craved those moments when she got up in your personal space while silently making the promise of bodily harm?

Just last week when you, Sevika, and the rest of the group were hanging out at the bar. Apparently, you were too chatty for Sevika’s liking because, in a blink of an eye, the brut kicked your legs right from under you. Your body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes - your head felt the brunt of the impact as you blacked out. However, when you woke up, your aching body was laid across the couch in her office. Her signature dark cape was thrown over your body. 

All of this could only mean one thing; She secretly, unbeknownst to herself, cared for you. Either that or you were severely delusional. 

Maybe it was both…

So consumed by thoughts of the burly woman you flinched hard at the sharp knock against the driver’s window.

Whipping your head, you swear your favorite romantic song begins playing on the radio, and whimsical flowers appear, framing her face. 

Your breathing becomes shallow as you take in her deep navy vest, tightly wrapped around her chest. Not to mention, good lord, the vest was sleeveless. This was not a drill. Sevika’s sculpted arms were out and making you want to jump her freaking bones. Somehow you manage to drag your wondering lecherous eyes up to her hardened face.

A dopey smile beams across your face as you roll down the window with haste. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Get your ass in the passenger seat.” 

Sevika’s grumpy salutations doesn’t damper your mood. It’s one of her many traits you find charming. It made digging past her tough exterior so much fun. 

Your fingers do a little tap against the steering wheel. “Can’t. While I’ll literally do anything for you, I’m a horrible passenger. I get too hyper and can’t stay still for shit.” 

In a flash, her metal arm passes through the open window and nearly yanks you clean through. Her beautifully scarred face scowls so close her breath fans across your face. “Call me Sev again, and your hands will be too broken to drive, permanently. Now get your hyper-ass out of my seat.”

Her tone, hard and demanding, is like a sirens’ call to your ears, making you docile and languid for anything Sev demands. Her very undivided attention to you makes the day already worthwhile. 

Your eyes shine up at her. “Yes, ma’am,” you purr. There must’ve been a few screws loose in your head to hit on Sevika when she was already peeved, but she was always pissed. If you wanted to make any progress with your team leader today, you had to take initiative.   

The metal hand clinching the collar of your shirt tightens, probably debating whether to drag you through the window. 

For a moment, her eyes heat, and her nostrils flare before shaking her head. With a hard shove, she lets you go. Huffing in annoyance and rolling her eyes.

Trying not to let your self-satisfied smile show, you scoot on your hands and knees over to the passenger seat. Your ass in perfect view for your sexy team leader. 

Sevika mutters, “Fucking brat,” as she opens the door and climbs in. Handling your truck as if she owns it.

I wonder if today’s trip will be fun banter or a boring lecture. You wonder as Sevika reves up the engine and takes off. 

“Your ass is dragging the rest of the team through the mud. If you fought as well as you talked, I wouldn’t have to kick your ass every week in training,” she starts.

Boring lecture it was. You settle in, getting yourself comfy to listen to Sevika’s infamous rants. Not that you minded. After all, now you had time to salivate as you admired your superior next to you. Usually, you had to compete for her attention among others, and she made it difficult. And when you did have her attention, she went out of her way to act like she couldn’t stand you. 

But something about her behavior felt off. Like it was all an act. During training, she did everything possible to make you quit; however, during any fight with local thugs, she glued herself to your side, laying waste to anyone who dared lay a hand on you. Something about this wasn’t adding up, and you were determined to sniff it out. 

You let out a blissful sigh and close your eyes. Sev’s open window blows her scent your way. A mixture of her natural musk and oil, the latter probably thanks to her tinkering with her mechanical arm. Unconsciously, your body slides across the bucket seat, gravitating to the smell. 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face. Did you hear anything I just said?” she asks. Her brows furrow but the irritation doesn’t reach her eyes. Instead, that same heat from when she was outside has returned. Your apparent interest in her wasn’t lost on her, but that damn restraint held her back. You couldn’t fathom the reason why. It was a pot with a lid, and soon, it would bubble over. 

Of course, a little teasing was never a bad thing.

“Sevika, as always, I live for these dull rants.” There, the corner of her lip twitched. Swiping away at rapid speed. “It’s the same thing you always say. ‘Y/N, you’re a go-getter, focused, and I can’t stay away from you.”

 You adjust in your seat. The night before, in preparation for today’s drive, you shaved your legs and decided to wear an unpractically short skirt. You glance to the side to make sure she’s watching. An electric shiver zips through your body when, out of the corner of your eyes, you notice her lingering eyes on your smooth legs. Taking a chance, you propped them up against the dashboard. Legs crossed, you playfully guide them against each other, enjoying how they glided. But the heat of Sevika’s eyes increased how sensitive your body felt - and she hadn’t laid a finger on you. Only Sevika had the power to turn you on with just a stare.

Under her breath, she whispers, “I need a fucking smoke.” With relentless movements, she starts searching through her pockets. “You’re a slacker, always distracted, and a pain in my fucking ass. Whenever you enter a room, I’m half tempted to duct tape your lips shut.” As she ranted, you noticed how anxious she was searching through her pockets - still searching for a flame to light her cigarette. 

Well, you had a lighter… 

 While she’s searching, you start dragging your hands up and down your bare legs that are still crossed against the dash. Your balmy palms circle your bended knees a few times and creep up to the hem of your skirt. Sevika’s voice trails off as inch by inch you tease your skirt up.

“... if it were up to me, your bratty tail would be out of here, unable to clean the blood off our blades.” Sevika clears her throat. 

The heat in the truck rises by several notches. Her attention on your hands as they drag your skirt dangerously up your thigh felt like actual pressure against your sensitive body. It made you feel more alive than any fight ever could. Every inch of skin you revealed sent a lick of heat to your core. 

Her metal grip on the steering wheel tightens significantly. With each inch of your rising skirt, a new squeaky crunch comes from your poor steering wheel.

Sevika can only take so much of being teased until she totally forgoes hunting through her pockets. The truck lurches to a stop in the middle of the street. Her callused hand snakes out to stop you from revealing the plump skin of your upper thigh.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Sevika’s eyes flare in question. She looked a bit strained as if tuned on yet incredulous at your audacity. 

“What?” You give an innocent grin. For a second, your blinding smile causes her hard stare to soften, but once again, she shakes it away, and a furious snarl returns. 

Somehow, she allows you to use your free hand to cover hers, and cautiously you guide her rough hand under the edge of your skirt. For the first time, Sevika couldn’t hide from you. From this close, you saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Even the pulse at the base of her neck was visible. 

The feel of her hand against your soft skin made you want to toss your head back in relief, unfortunately, the game had to finally come to an end as you guided her hand to the black garter attached to your upper thigh.

Sevika arches her eyebrow in confusion. In response, you open one of its pouches and reveal a sleek, silver lighter. Holding it between both of you, the fire shoots out and slowly settles. 

“Lighter?” 

Without waiting for a response, you light her cigarette. The lite cig lays unpuffed between her lips. Probably deciding whether to throw you out your own car or give in to the heat that’s been simmering between you two. You decided to quicken her decision by taking the cig from her lips, taking a puff, and blowing the smoke up in her face. 

That did it.

Her metal arm clutches your jaw. One eyebrow arched and head held high as if saying your punishment was still very much an option. Her thumb rubs against your bottom while taking her cig back. She takes a hit and blows it back in your face while holding your face still so you can’t move away. Hard, embarrassing coughs rack inside your chest.

A hard smile creeps along her as well as begrudged admiration, while still rubbing your bottom lip back and forth. The two of you stare at each other like a pair of pent-up rivalries. It lasts long enough for a car behind to honk.

Sevika's eyes drag down your body before continuing to drive, but not before giving the car behind a long hard stare. The poor sucker better hope she didn’t memorize his license plate. 

A giddiness plays around your heart at the tiny possibility of Sevika being upset the two of you were interrupted. It just reinforced the necessity of today. There was no way you would leave this truck before getting a confession out of Sev. But how?

Just as you come to a resolution, Sevika pulls into a dark alley. The two of you had already arrived at the warehouse where you were meeting some of Finn’s goons about a shipment. 

In preparation, Sevika starts replacing some of the vials of shimmer for her arm. The last one sat on her knee. 

I better not get myself killed. That was your last thought before you snatched the vials away and popped it into your bra. 

With a dismissive attitude, she continues to inspect her metal arm; however, you know you hold her full attention. “What are you playing at, princess?” The nickname itself almost made you want to roll over and show your stomach, but you had to remain strong. 

“You’ll get this back after you answer my question honestly.”

That damn smirk returns. “Or the second option, I come across the seat, teach you a much-needed lesson and worry about replacing the shimmer later.” She waits for you to give in, and when you remain stoic, she huffs in defeat and throws her arm behind you on the seat. “You got less than a minute.” 

Tucking your legs under your tush, you turn all the way to face her while twirling the vial between your fingers. “From day one, you’ve made your dislike of me painfully obvious.-”

“You think you’re special enough to be disliked?”

“- Sooo I’ve done everything I could to be better in your eyes, and I’ve gotten hella better. So why do you still treat me with a five feet pole?”

There, you had laid it all your insecurities in hopes that Sevika would genuinely answer. Her eyes stare up at the truck’s ceiling, contemplating whether to give into this conversation or simply forcefully take the shimmer from your hold and punish you for insubordination. 

Taking one more chance, you trail fingers along her arm. The shiver that visibly shakes her body is unexpected from both of you. Her shock must be what sways her decision because she leans over just enough to wrap an arm around your waist, dragging you flush against her side. The sudden closeness makes your breath halt, and your body becomes rigid. Sure, you often talked big but never had you imagined you’d be pressed so intimately against Sevika.

“I’ll never want you on my team, no matter how many hours of training you put in. Since Silco bought you to my team, princess, I knew you didn’t belong here. This shimmer filth has a way of contaminating everything and everyone it touches.” her eyes slightly trail off.

“You could’ve just ignored me.”

Sevika throws her head back and lets out a short laugh. “Ignore you?” Her prosthetic hand raises up and pushes your hair away with a gentleness you don’t expect. Before she can pull away, you trap her hand to keep it cradling your face. 

Surprise flashes across her face. The most action her metal arm receives involves blood and bone, not tender caresses. “You make it impossible to be ignored. Your voice, laughs, and these fucking impractical skirts.” The hand against your moves to the back of your head, and like a switch, it clutches the hair at the back of your head, roughly pulling your head to the side and bringing her face into the nook of your neck. “Damn, even your smell stays lodged into my brain.” Her nose trails up and down your neck, raising a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

Your overconfidence finally crumbles as you whimper slightly. There’s no concealing the slight shake of your hands as you grasp her biceps for support. “So you’re trying to protect me? Does that mean you don’t find me annoying?” 

Sevika’s breath hits your neck as she scoffs. “Nah, you’re annoying as hell. But I also didn’t want you involved in this shimmer shit. Thought if I were mean enough, you would want to leave.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “I just thought it was your version of foreplay. If you haven’t noticed, I can be a little stubborn.” 

“Stubborn is an understate if I’ve ever heard one.”

“And you can’t push me away just to protect me.”

A slight smile breaks over her face. She pats her thigh, beckoning you over. It was a request but felt like a command. You don’t bother to hide your smile as you awkwardly maneuver yourself over her thick thighs, slightly hovering. Not that Sevika puts up with your awkwardness for long as her rough hands grasp the sides of your waist. Her tight hold pushes you closer to her chest, leaving your core hyper-aware of every inch of friction. 

The foreign feel of being in Sevika’s embrace makes you breathless. Your back just naturally arches in response to her heavy hands gripping your waist. For the first time Sevika was realizing what you already knew, your body was insanely sensitive to her touch..

Arrogance curves along her lips as she casually drags the tips of her finger up and down your spine.

“Princess, you’ve been real demanding today. Perhaps a lesson in submission is needed?” Her hands ghost over your body, making you desperate for contact against your skin. They finally possessively land against your ribs, moving up to the side of your breasts. Your breath hangs on her every movement. 

“Don’t you think I’ve had enough lessons from you?” Your words waver as her head lowers down to your chest. Daring dark eyes challenge you as she leaves open-mouth kisses along the heaps of your chest. Meek moans almost escape as she leaves each kiss. Your fingers twitch with the need to move through her hair. 

When her thumbs finally skim over your nipples, the relief is a mini-explosion, throwing your head back. Her touch is gentler than you would’ve expected but not tentative. Expert hands plays with you and pushes the collar of your shirt down. One sensual kiss after another presses against your chest, except the last one, doesn’t land. 

An unexpected movement from your bra has you looking down. Between Sevika’s lips is the purple vial of shimmer you had hidden earlier. 

Your shock is more than apparent. 

“Don’t pout, princess. How about making a deal? Try not to annoy the shit out of me when we go in there, and we’ll finish where we left off.” 

Pretending to think about it, you cross your arms under your chest. Your chest heats when Sevika’s eyes blatantly devour your pushed-up boobs. For a second, you think you have the upper hand, but it’s short-lived. Cold hands grasp your upper thighs under your skirt, kneading your skin. 

A deep ache throbs from your pussy but you attempt to stay focus even as your eyelids lower. “I have a condition.” To respond her heavy hands press higher between your thighs. A self-satisfied look passes through her eyes, testing you. 

“I want to call you Sev.”

Deeper press. “Not on your life.”

“In private.” 

Her metal hand moves to cup the base of your neck, flexing around your throat, then slide to the back of your head. Bringing your face closer to hers, lips skimming yours. “Fine, now stop talking.” She commands before shutting you up with a heavy kiss. 

[moonjxsung]

it's been years (a day) since i've talked to my wife (star)...... i hope she hasn't forgotten me (she literally just texted me yesterday, i saw it and forgot to reply)..... i'm forgetting her sweet touch..... (i'm literally fine)....... please come back home..... (i'm eating chicken rn do u want some)....... alexa play casual by chappell roan..... (i'm sitting in my room in the dark with no music because i'm overstimulated)

- 🦢

unfortunately I forgot about you in the mere hours we were apart 💔 does anyone remember swan anon 💔 I miss her so bad 💔 sometimes it’s like I can still see her messages 💔 it hurts so bad 💔 knee deep in the passenger seat and we’re hitting the klaxon……… is it casual now……

can I come over and do little sprout hair on you like this. or no

[khalixascorner]

Foundations Pt 1

Summary: After agreeing to let Tony take care of him, they have to establish the foundations of this strange new dynamic. Peter stumbles a bit along the way, but Tony's there to catch him. Part 2 of the Priorities Series.

Tags: Slow Burn, Like so slow it's glacial, Still technically pre slash here, Platonic BDSM, for now, Dom Tony Stark, Sub Peter Parker, Friday and Karen gossip

Read on AO3

It was child’s play to find the evidence he needed to disgrace the Osborn heir. A few clear photos of the underage heir drinking and doing lines off of his latest fuck of the week and he was out. Jetted off to somewhere in Eastern Europe where they wouldn’t look down on him for that behavior while the American media had its day with his reputation. 

Meanwhile, Tony was outside of Peter’s apartment. As he waited for the younger man to come down, his mind was already planning upgrades and new safety measures if Peter still meant what he said. Tony was starting to get impatient when Peter came rushing out the door, his hair still slightly damp but dressed in the charcoal slacks and deep blue shirt he had sent. It was the first test because Tony had also included shoes, socks, and underwear with a note for Peter to wear them. 

“Sorry for making you wait, sir,” Peter gasped as he slid into the passenger seat. “I was trying to work ahead on some homework and lost track of time.”

Tony waved it off, willing to let it slide this once since Peter wasn’t officially his. 

“How were classes this week?” Tony asked instead, pulling the car out to head to the restaurant.

“It was crazy busy,” Peter replied with a sigh. “We’re not quite to finals yet but everyone is already starting to ramp up for it.”

“Anything in particular giving you problems?” Tony asked, glancing over. 

“Not really,” Peter said, waving off the concern. “It’s just a lot of final projects, papers, and extra assignments that the teachers want turned in early.”

“Nothing you can’t handle then,” Tony agreed. 

-----------------------

Tony kept the conversation light as they drove, and Peter found himself relaxing in the older man’s presence. It had been so long since he’d been around his mentor that he had almost forgotten how nice it was when things had been good. Had stored it away in his memories but couldn’t help but wonder how much was fabricated versus real. 

The restaurant was nicer than anything Peter had gone to in recent memory. It was also louder. Voices rose and fell in a discordant symphony that made him flinch. Silverware clinked against fine porcelain dishware with the occasional clatter of a busboy hard at work. 

Peter tried to take a deep breath, hoping to bring it under control, only to be swept under an aromatic assault. Notes of citrus and vinegar from a nearby table’s salad burned his nose, only to be covered up when a waiter walked by with a seafood dish that turned Peter’s stomach. He tried turning away from it, only to get a nose full of a woman’s overbearing perfume as she handed off her coat to the maitre d’. 

His eyes watered, and Peter could only be distantly embarrassed as a complete overload threatened to literally bring him to his knees. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until they shot open in surprise when a warm weight settled on his back between his shoulders. 

“This way, Pete.”

Tony’s voice was like a beacon to orient himself by, and the heavy weight of his hand was an anchor to his body, grounding him against the external stimuli. With a bit of effort, he could pick out the faint hint of Tony’s cologne and the background smell of coffee and metal that always clung to the man. 

His focus narrowed until only that spot of warmth, familiar scent, and low baritone mattered. Everything else was muted and ignored so completely that Peter didn’t even realize when it all disappeared. 

“-te, Pete? Take a deep breath now,” Tony’s voice rumbled in his ears, and just as always, Peter couldn’t help but obey. “That’s it, in and out. Nice and easy.”

Ever so slowly, his senses returned. Hearing was first, with Tony’s soft commands to breathe and the steady beats of their hearts filling his ears. He basked in it, tension falling away and his shoulders dropping as the anticipated pain never came. 

As if the movement triggered it, his sense of touch came back next. Awareness spread from Tony’s hand on his back to the one now holding his wrist. From that second point of warmth, he felt a third, underneath his palm. Smooth fabric with buttons rose and fell beneath his hand, while a rhythmic thumping pounded away steadily. 

Touching the fabric, realizing it was Tony’s shirt, helped his brain remember what clothes were. Suddenly, he was very grateful that Tony had provided the entire outfit because instead of rough cheap blends, all his skin felt were soft smooth cottons and silks. 

He let himself relax further, still not opening his eyes but daring to take deep breaths. Tony’s scent was safe and familiar, flushing out the memory of the others, and finally giving Peter the courage to open his eyes. 

“There we go,” Tony murmured as their eyes met. “I was getting a bit worried there, kid.”

“S’rr- s’r,” Peter mumbled, still not quite up to talking coherently as his system finished its reboot. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Tony said quietly. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you haven’t had that happen before just from going to a restaurant.”

Peter shook his head, eyes fluttering when the room seemed to spin. 

“Alright, spider kid, let's get you sitting down and some water I think,” Tony said, slipping his arms more firmly around Peter as he guided him to a seat. Thankfully, it was a booth and he could rest against the wall as Tony stepped away to speak with someone at the door. 

Peter drifted in and out while he waited for his mentor to return. His limbs felt like lead and it was a losing battle to keep his eyes open for more than a second. 

“Drink,” Tony commanded even as a cool glass was pressed to his lips. 

Peter started with a sip, only to realize his mouth felt as dry as a desert. Tony didn’t let him gulp it down, but it was a close thing. The drink wasn’t water, Peter realized only halfway through the glass but instead was lightly flavored lemonade. The sugar seemed to perk him up, and by the end of the glass, there was only a little residual shakiness left. 

“Better?”

“Much, thank you,” Peter replied, unable to fight the flush of embarrassment.

“None of that, kid,” Tony said with a wave. “Everyone’s got weird quirks from their super powers. It’s a thing, so don’t feel bad.”

“Even you, sir?” Peter asked in a moment of braveness. Tony looked at him, gaze heavy for a long moment before replying. 

“I compulsively upgrade the suits because there’s always the next bad guy, the next random power that could get used against us,” Tony said softly. “My brain can’t help but try to quantify the threat and pre-make at least 3 potential solutions. Not quite as fancy as weird metabolisms or allergies from super soldier serums, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, ah- thank you. For telling me,” Peter said, suddenly feeling shy. “I, ah, it's more than just the metabolism but yeah. Lots of weird quirks from mine. Guess that’s the trade off from my powers coming from a spider instead of a bottle in a lab.”

“Nothing we can’t work around with a little bit of applied brain power,” Tony said confidently, leaning back against the booth. “Now, I ordered a wide variety of relatively easy to eat foods that aren’t too pungent and they’ll all be brought out in individual courses with palette cleansers in between just to be on the safe side. Eat as much as you like, but don’t feel obligated to finish anything you don’t. This is just a chance to get a feel for what you like.”

Tony said the whole thing so casually and yet, Peter still felt blindsided by the thoughtfulness and also willingness to put others out. Surely that would drag their dinner on extra long, and rooms like these were probably in high demand. Yet, Tony didn’t seem to care in the least. Peter wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t necessary, but the hint of challenge he could see in Tony’s gaze deterred him. 

“Thank you,” was all he said instead. 

Tony’s pleased smile brought a small one to Peter’s face as a warm feeling bubbled in his chest. Making Tony happy and proud had always made Peter feel happy as well, and it seemed like years apart hadn’t changed that. 

“Not a problem, Pete,” Tony said warmly. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Peter shivered and just nodded, eyes dropping to the table. 

---------------------

Tony wanted to say more but their first course arrived before he could open his mouth. He bit back a sigh, knowing that Peter needed more than just lemonade to help him bounce back from the strange reaction to the restaurant. Tony hadn’t seen one of the kid’s overloads in years but they seemed worse than ever if that one was any indication. 

He held his peace though, as course after course came out. At first, Peter seemed unsure about trying the food that had set his senses off just a short while ago. However, the time to relax had done the younger man good, and after a few bites, he was digging in with gusto. There were one or two he seemed to like less, and Tony had Friday make a note of it for the future, but otherwise, he kept the light conversation going, eating a few bites occasionally after Peter had commented that it was weird to be eating alone. 

Tony didn’t fight the satisfied feeling of seeing Peter taken care of properly. He was dressed in the clothes Tony had picked for him, eating the food Tony ordered, and all around looking happier than when he had seen him just a few days ago. And Tony hadn’t even gotten to his true gift for the night.

Only after a large dessert spread was laid out before them did Tony finally bring his phone out.

“So, I had one more gift for you tonight,” he said, activating the holo function as Friday brought up headline after headline. “I told you earlier that I wanted you to really think about it before saying yes to me. To understand the lengths I would go to. And well, I think this makes a pretty good sampling.”

Tony watched as Peter read the headlines, eyes going wide and they flicked from Tony to the holos and back to Tony again.

“He-he’s really gone?” Peter asked, his voice almost fragile.

“Yeah, he’s gone. Because I’m not gonna leave someone around that could hurt you when I’m not there to protect you,” Tony said. “You didn’t want to involve campus security or the cops so the issue’s been resolved without your name being involved at all.”

“How- it’s only been three days- that’s, it shouldn’t be possible,” Peter said, his voice an awed whisper. 

Tony wasn’t expecting quite that response, but he wasn’t going to complain about it either. He was trying to be fair, trying to ensure Peter knew what he was getting into, but he also knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it.

“I told you that I take care of what’s mine, Peter,” Tony said solemnly. “So now the question is, are you going to let me take care of things? Of you?”

----------------------

Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest like when he squared off against the villain of the week. He felt like he was about to launch himself off the top of a building without checking that his web shooters were full. A leap of faith. Faith that Tony would catch him. That the older man meant what he said and would follow through on it. Life had beaten Peter down again and again, had taken everything from him that mattered, but maybe that made this easier because he had nothing to lose.

Peter took a deep breath and looked Tony straight on, unflinching despite his trembling hands that he hid beneath the table.

“Yes, sir.”

[beyondthegame]

milaaaaa hello! first of all congrats on reaching 15K! that's exciting and very impressive! ✨ and for the prompt, what about ‘one giving the other their jacket / covering them with it when they fall asleep’ for n, please? thank u! I hope you're doing well 🫶

As your taxi stops, the door immediately opens for another passenger. You move to shuffle down in your seat before turning to the open door. Your eyes lock with dark grey ones.

N Tallon.

Their lips twist for a moment as they look down the street. They glance at you once more before taking a step back.

“I can get the next taxi.”

You snort before rolling your eyes. “It’s almost 2am and have you seen the weather?” you question, pointing towards the dark sky that is definitely going to open up with rain. “Don’t be stupid. Just get in.”

You can see N debating it. The way their eyes flit over you, the road, the taxi, and the potential of getting another so they can sit alone.

But, to your surprise, they hop in and join you. You sit next to each other. N’s knees are close to touching yours and despite that, the tension is almost palpable between you.

“You didn’t drive today?”

N’s gaze flits over you as the taxi moves off. “No. Besides, it’s London. No one actually wants to drive here,” they eventually reply. “We don’t have to do this small talk thing, you know.”

“You’re right,” you murmur. N arches a brow at you, “because I’m close to falling asleep here.” You smirk. “Clearly you’re boring me.”

N grimaces. “Very fucking funny.”

They glance out the window and it’s now the rain has started. All the two of you can hear is the loud patter against the window, the quiet music coming from the taxi radio, and the sounds of early morning traffic.

You can feel yourself starting to close your eyes, and considering it’s a Friday night, there’s more traffic than usual.

“What were you doing tonight?” you ask N. You instantly hear them groan.

“I literally said no small talk.”

“If we don’t talk, I’m going to fall asleep on you and I’m sure you’d hate that even more so get chatting.”

N leans back. “My teammates and I were team bonding.”

You give them a side eye. “I didn’t think you could bond with others.”

N lets out a humourless chuckle. “The only person I don’t bond with is you.”

“Charming,” you utter.

For the next few moments it’s silent again, and you’re really struggling. Your eyes are closing, your head is leaning to the side and you’re sure you’re going to lose this battle against sleep.

And you do.

Your head hits N’s shoulder and if you weren’t in such a deep sleep you’d feel them tense. They’re grimacing. They want to move completely. They could. They could just let you fall with a thud against the seat but…for some strange reason, they decide against it.

They can’t call this comfort. Being near you has never been comfortable for them, but being around you is certainly easier than it was before.

It’s another twenty minutes until you reach your home. Another twenty minutes of you against N’s shoulder. Another twenty minutes of you practically shivering against them.

“For fuck’s sake,” N murmurs, their mind going completely against what they’re about to do, but it happens anyway.

In a swift motion they remove their jacket, careful not to wake you before draping it over your shoulders and torso.

It’s a terrible time to think about it, but N begins to imagine what being friends with you would be like. How things would be so much more pleasant, that a moment like this wouldn’t make them feel so awkward.

But they shake their head because that’s something that’s never going to happen.

But at least they did a good deed for you, and surprisingly, you falling asleep against them isn’t as bad as they thought.

[firewolf-pyro]

Episode five: The Dalek in the Pond,

[Freeze frame of shocked Amy Pond]

Olesia stood in the cool light of morning watching the excavation crew work over her cup of coffee. It was chilly this morning, the steam radiating up from her mug matching the fog that wafted up and away from the slowly drying mud pool that had been a pond at the side of the road. She had no energy to dig in the muck today thanks to a terrible dream she had had the night before. Instead she stood and watched the crew crowd around something they were pulling up from under the thick mud around them.

She slowly lowered her mug to her side when she heard the crew begin scuffling- concerned conversations turned to anxious shouting as they worked to pull something blue and silver- something cylindrical out of the knee deep mud. With what little she could see from where she sat at the side of a van, the crew was trying very hard to dislodge the piece of machinery from the mud in one piece. She squinted through the fog, gasping when she caught sight of the dome shaped top of what they were working with.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! It’s a whole Dalek! We usually find pieces of Daleks here and there- all blown up and torn to shreds- but this is a whole Dalek!” Olesia shouted, getting the attention of her workmates as she took off down the side of the hill, spilling her coffee in the process. The crew worked quickly to bring the hearty piece of technology, a literal mini tank- up the hill towards the long line of trucks that sat at the side of the road.

“This isn’t the blessing you think it is. More likely than not this war machine is still kicking around inside this nasty shell.” Jones said worriedly as he grabbed her by her shoulder to prevent her from touching the cold blue metal. The excavation crew shoved the machine into the back of the vehicle, closing the door and patting the side letting the driver know that their load was ready to be hauled out of there. Olesia shook Jones off and clambered into the passenger seat of the truck - she wasn’t about to just leave this find with a complete stranger.

Jones rounded up the rest of his team and followed the truck back to their tiny little facility which was by now- more alien rubbish than human made products. Getting the heavy tank into the crowded facility below the apartment building was a difficult process. Even with a lift and all four of them pushing the mud caked rusted metal thing was heavy and seemed to be stubbornly scraping along the ground.

“It’s not that special-“ Henry huffed as he lifted the bottom half of the machine the best he could towards one of the cell-like room’s along the hall across from their offices. The grounds here were covered in dust. It was not often that their crew had an alien- even if it were a dead one- in their possession.

“I know of two collectors with full Daleks in their collections. UNIT and other agencies outside our own have tried and failed to confiscate them.” Henry reminded them all as he gave the armor one last kick to get it through the doorway. He stood back from the casing panting rather hard as the rest of his team just stood around it- gaping at it in awe.

“Only three whole Daleks, yet we continue to find hundreds of full cybermen.” Kendra wondered out loud as she instinctively pulled her sketch pad out and immediately began taking down measurements. The color of this one was odd, they had evidence that most- if not all other Daleks should have been a bronzey gold coloration.

“None of that matters right now, get this thing clean- see if it is actually ticking like I think it is- then lock it up.” Jones directed as he backed away from the shell of a Dalek in front of him.

By that evening the Dalek casing was nearly pristine- sat at the center of the little cell. They had made an attempt to chain the shell down just in case it ever actually woke up despite the knowledge that the Dalek if it were still alive there would likely be able to free itself with little effort. So they watched it, so Jones watched that quiet tank through the security cameras with such a look of distaste one might think he had eaten something rotten.

“It’s still very much alive in there. Though we haven’t been able to get any sort of response.” Henry whispered into Jones’ office- startling the older man. He spun around to face Henry. The scans on Henry’s tablets showed a very slow, very subtle pulse of a tiny heart resting somewhere within the strangely blue armor.

“Well don’t go torchering it. I know of a dealer who had a full Dalek- woke it up by torchering the damned thing and lost nearly his whole security squad plus some very valuable finds.” Jones spat at Henry. Henry jumped a little at the anger in Jones’ voice but made no move to back down.

“Not to say it doesn’t deserve to be. Its species stealing our planet, raiding us- invading us- the things are no good.” Jones grumbled as he turned back around to stare down at the security screen. He watched the cell door open as their alien scientist, Olesia, walked in with a large box of strange tools in her grasp.

Olesia was joined by Kendra who was clutching her drawing tablet under one arm and a bucket of warm water in the other. Olesia was already on her knees using a little metal prod to poke around the armor by the time Kendra set her tablet up in the cell. Kendra was intent on getting a more detailed sketch of every piece of the Dalek casing- which meant cleaning the armor to the point it shined in the dull white light of the cell. That plan was interrupted when Olesia’s hand pressed the small metal point int a little crevice at the front of the Dalek’s casing. The spot just between the manipulator arm and deadly laser- clicked.

“What… was that…” Olesia breathed softly as she twisted the metal spike slowly around between the little crevice. Another click sounded as she did so. Kendra leaned over Olesia’s shoulder trying to see what she was doing before suddenly Olesia pushed her back as she backpedaled away from the armor. The armor was shifting- the panels screeching apart from one another as the upper portion of the Dalek released an awful smelling fume. Both Olesia and Kendra rushed to pull up their facial coverings to protect their lungs from whatever the armor had just released into their atmosphere.

“Augh- I can smell it even with this mask on.” Kendra gagged as she stared over Olesia’s shoulder into the now open Dalek armor. Whatever that thing was within the armor was clearly Ill or possibly half dead as green goo seeped out of the armor around it. The mucus that burbled up from the mutant’s flesh looked to be near boiling as it came into contact with the air.

“It’s like it’s rotting.” Olesia whimpered as she took a cautious step towards it. She thought better of it however and moved to the bucket of water Kendra had brought with her.

“Ewe, it smells so bad-“ Kendra whined as she tiptoed towards the armor. The alien within was strange to observe. Several finger wide strands of flesh were moving slowly over a core of solid pale blue flesh. The eye at the center of the sack of flesh was crusted over with thick green goo. Kendra flinched away from the casing when Kendra rushed over with the bucket of hot water and began spunging it over the slime covered mutant. She was mopping away sheets of the heavy green mess.

“You’re touching it? It could have some kind of alien disease- or parasite, or virus!” Kendra yelled, trying to grab her companion away from the scene. Olesia shrugged her off as she continued to mop away what she could of the disgusting sludge. With some help the eye blinked open though it remained very unfocused. It seemed everything about this Dalek was blue.

“I’ll be fine.” Olesia insisted as she slid her hand deep into the armored casing. She winced a moment as her fingers slid into some mechanism within the casing that was starting to warm up. Without too much squirming however she managed to pull the Dalek mutant out of the casing. More long finger thin tendrils slid out of the core of the Dalek. All In all the mutant was as long as a man.

“You?! What about us? Not all of us can regen like you Y’know.” Kendra scoffed as she kept a healthy distance away from the armful of alien Olesia now clutched to her chest. She followed her out of the cell into the office space where Olesia placed the slime covered creature into her chair before she began digging through her desk drawers. The thick green that dripped from it slowly mixed with a silvery ooze. The mutant was slowly squirming its tendrils around itself- ever so slowly making its way off of the chair like some sort of dying octopus.

“I think it’s bleeding, I thought these things had nano-technology.” Olesia huffed as she returned to the alien in her seat with something clutched in her hand. She pushed the slime ball back into the seat before continuing whatever she was planning. She wiped away green sludge from each individual tendril and sprayed any open wounds with a spray that stank of alcohol. It bubbled white along any open wound the liquid touched.

“No one really studies Daleks- I mean. This is probably the only time anyone has ever actually held a live mutant.” Kendra spoke up as she quickly grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. She was scribbling down anything and everything she could about what they were looking at.

“This is the only time anyone’s seen a Dalek mutant!” Kendra exclaimed in excitement, all fear about the dangers laying right in front of her forgotten. Olesia nodded and slowly lifted the mutant up off of the chair, cleaned it off the best she could then set it back down. The longer tendril of this thing was shifting around the floor curiously. The tips of which tapped at anything, everything they could, seeming to take in its surroundings through touch rather than sight.

“This is a chance of a lifetime. It won’t happen again, it shouldn’t be happening now!” Olesia breathed out in awe as she sat back to just stare at the quiet creature in front of her. All of this excitement was interrupted however by a loud POP as her computer system seemed to short itself out. She stood up quickly as she stared at a few long tendrils that had made it into the core of the computer resting on the floor under her desk.

“Awe no! No no no! All my files!” She yelped as she grabbed the mutant up off of her chair trying to gather up all of the long now flailing tendrils to prevent them from doing any more damage.

“Hah! This is why you should have thumb drives!” Kendra scoffed as she helped pry the stubborn tendrils away from the computer system. Silver goo seemed to drip down the edges of the tendrils as she pulled them straight out of the core of the computer system. The level of struggling the mutant was doing had increased significantly. It was now very difficult for Olesia to hold in her arms as every single one of its tendrils were shifting, twisting, wriggling and prying her arms away from itself.

“Re-re-release- me-!” A rusty mechanical cough came from somewhere within the Dalek mutant. Olesia nearly fumbled the Dalek quickly setting it down onto the chair beside her. She scooted it away from her computer into the hall between each desk.

“Get me a clean towel or blanket or something! It’s shaking like mad.” Olesia insisted over her shoulder. Kendra was frozen to the spot, the realization of how much danger they were all in sinking into her very core. With another shout from Olesia, Kendra broke out of this trance and grabbed some clean towels from the nearby cupboard. Olesia grabbed them quickly. With a lot of struggle she began wrapping the alien’s tendrils, basically swaddling the thing.

“There, calm down, calm down you’ll choke on your own mucus.” Olesia insisted as the thing had begun screaming to stop touching it, to release it and so much more. She scooped the bundle of hate up off of her chair to bring it over to the office. She was intent to show this thing directly to Jones. The door to the office swung open just as she walked up to it. Both Henry and Jones were white in the face as they stared at the still squirming bundle In Olesia’s arms.