#this was faster than the drawing I should be finished by now

[lunnyhasunohana]

This was suppose to be a joke...it has gone to far...

Art with @/ThatGayRPGguy on twitter

[cuteniaarts]

Greyscale Midori sketch because I’m low-key artblocked

[tonycries]

"Pull On It. Harder."

Synopsis. He liked to wear that little black hair tie everywhere. Why? Oh, it just reminds him of the way you tie his hair into a pretty lil’ ponytail - all while he's tonguefúcking you to insanity.

Pairings. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cunnilingus, rough oral (female receiving), unprotected, overstim, slightly long haired! boys, they’re just a bit mean here, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 1.2k

A/N. I love long haired men and no one can do anything ab it.

He’s never seen without that little black hair tie around his wrist. 

He likes to take it with him, thumbing that red imprint on his skin whenever he misses you. It makes him think of how he’d run his hands through your hair at night. Or how you’d intertwine your fingers with his when out on dates.

And, of course, how you’d gather  his locks and tie it into a pretty little ponytail while he tonguefucks you into insanity.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. Barely even touched you and already so wet f’me.”

Nose-deep in your pussy, his bangs partially cover his heavenly view of you - spread underneath him, thighs trembling and cunt dripping all over his freshly cleaned bed sheets. Good, he thinks deliriously, preferring your scent to the overly artificial softener anyway. 

He isn’t too worried, though, knowing you’ll work your magic with his hair soon enough. Soon.

“Soon” happens to be when he’s pooling your sweet juices on his lips. Relentless tongue dipping in and out of your quivering hole at a maddening pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Oh, fuck, baby- Hngh- faster, fucking me on your tongue s’good.” Hips bucking up into his hot mouth for more more more. Making out heatedly with your pussy with the urgency of a madman. Stray strands sticking to his forehead, he looks up at you through half-lidded, absolutely feral eyes that devour you almost as much as the mouth on your cunt - soon.

Tongue bullying past your swollen folds, crooking just right to fuck you on it the way he needed to with his throbbing cock. “Yeah, just like that.” you moan deliriously.

His hair tie digs into his skin, as well as yours, as he forces your thighs on his shoulders, reaching to draw tight, little circles on your needy clit. Methodical, and purposeful.

He knew you were close when you reached down to urgently cup his head, bunching those silky locks in two trembling hands. Ever the gentleman - his hand expertly leaves its bruising grip spreading your thighs so shamefully open. Letting you all but rip off the hair tie off it.

Shaky fingers running through his locks, his breath hitches so deliciously as you hastily secure his soft strands into a small, loose ponytail. Movements urgent and as jerky as the snap of that small hair tie. 

Ah, there he was - you could cum just from seeing the absolutely feral look on his face. It should be a crime for those beautiful features to be covered by anything other than your dripping cunt. 

A predatory grin tugs at his lips against your swollen ones as you finish tying the small band. Ah, now he can really get into it. Your back arches, using the ponytail as leverage to demand more. Need more as he makes out with your pussy with newfound vigor.

Nails digging into his scalp, searing with your grip. You know he doesn’t mind - in fact, he even leans into your touch with a guttural groan, swallowing hard as he drives his tongue deeper into you. 

It’s messy - both the ponytail and the way he speeds up maddeningly, your slick smearing across his pretty face, trailing down to the sheets below. Tongue continuing its relentless abuse - over and over and-

At a merciless rhythm that has the bed creaking and you whining in pleasure - the neighbors were sure to file another noise complaint. Annoying old fuckers, should give them a real show. 

His breaths are almost as ragged as yours now - because fuck oxygen, he wanted to see his pretty girl fall apart on his tongue. A munch - as you liked to often joke - with no care in the world for anything other than making you cum hard enough to see stars.

“Fuck, baby- m’gonna- m’gonna hngh-”

And not only do you see stars, you probably see the pearly gates of heaven as you cum on his mouth. Convulsing and hips rutting up to ride out your high on his pretty face. Eyes dazed, lips swollen and absolutely pussy-drunk. 

That sinful glint in his eyes stays as he pulls away, an obscene trail of saliva and your slick connecting your lips to his chin. Cheeks flushed so deceivingly innocently, strands of silky hair falling out of that disheveled ponytail. A true masterpiece.

He watched you intently, drinking in every dip and curve. Breathtaking, absolutely breathtaking.

But the games are over now.

“Spread them f’me, sweetheart.”

Looming over you, eyes burning with raw desire. Cock throbbing and leaking delicate beads of precum as he positions himself, furiously flushed tip nudging your sloppy hold. He pumps himself. Once. Twice. Being merciful enough to give you a second of respite.

Without warning, he surges forward. Bullying his thick cock into your snug cunt in one, swift thrust. Not stopping till he’s all the way. His lips crush against yours, stifling your cry of pain and pleasure at finally getting what he’s been teasing you with for so long.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your dripping cunt. Nails raking down his sculpted back as he starts up a feral, unforgiving pace. Each ram of his cock into your cunt erratic, hitting your cervix and pulsing against that one spot deliberately. Again. And again. Like a madman possessed. 

“Baby- Hngh-” you whine sinfully, hips bucking wildly against to meet his almost-animalistic cadence, reaching out a shaky arm towards him. He knows what that means. How could he not?

Holding your hungry gaze as he leans down, sweaty forehead meeting yours. One hand cradles your face, while the other hooks a finger underneath that godforsaken hair tie and pulls. Letting the ponytail - that at this point could barely even be called one - fall apart, just as you were underneath him. 

Eyes glassy and dazed, soft little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. The only thing behind those pretty eyes being him and the big cock stuffing you full. So close to cumming. 

Bangs partially covering the sinful view that was you - but right now, he didn’t care. Not when you’re snaking a hand up to his locks and pulling. Hard.

“Yeah, just like that. Pull on it. Harder.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat as he lets you continue your little ministrations, tugging on his hair especially hard when he purposefully misses that little spot he knew drove you wild. Over and over.

Now, he doesn’t want to sound like a masochist - his friends would probably laugh their asses off at that - it’s just it hurts so good when it’s you.

Which is why, two strong hands rest above your head, fingers lacing, pushing you down down down impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock. You keen in response, “Ah! Hngh- oh, baby jus’ like that. M’gonna cum.”

Ha, as if he’d be that nice. 

Pulling out in one, fluid motion, he relishes in your disappointed whine at the sudden disappointment. Taking the opportunity to gather your hair in his fists, fingers deftly forming a makeshift ponytail with a snap! of that little hair tie. 

Leaning down to whisper in your ear, voice gravelly and hot against your ear. “Not yet. Suck on my cock without this ponytail falling apart, sweetheart. Then we’ll see about that orgasm, hm?”

Because you love to see his face.

And, of course, he loves to see yours.

- GETO, CHOSO, GOJO, Kuroo, KENMA, Sakusa, EREN, Jean

A/N. I’m ngl this is very much self-indulgent pls.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[logaenhowlett]

hi arya :3

any thoughts on cowboy!logan?

plenty. i’ve got plenty of thoughts. you’re gonna have to restrain me from this motherfucker. 18+ only.

— COWBOY!LOGAN HCs

Cowboy!Logan reigns terror over your heart.

The first time he saunters into the saloon you work at, he fixes you with those piercing eyes and purrs, "Now, darlin', what's a pretty thing like you doin' behind this bar? Should be dancin' with me, makin' all the other fellas jealous."

Whiskey? He never orders it. Every time, it falls from his lips as a suggestion, like it's a shared indulgence between the two of you. "A lil' somethin' to take the edge off a long day, wouldn't you say, sweetheart?"

Soon enough, you realise that he could charm the spurs off a rattlesnake if he so desires.

As he becomes a regular, all the glassware behind the counters starts looking a little too shiny since you're polishing them with the furious energy of a woman trying to ignore a wildfire—as if you could erase the memory of his last wink with enough elbow grease.

Ridiculous.

And he's got this lazy drawl, as though time spins between his fingers, where every word is a carefully placed lasso meant to reel you in.

Despite your better judgment, you find yourself anticipating Logan's arrival after each sunset. A fact you'd rather swallow a cactus than ever admit.

Devilishly clever, that man. Taken to accidentally dropping poker chips near your feet, just to watch you bend down and retrieve them. Leaving little sketches on napkins, rough caricatures of other patrons. Or sometimes, a remarkably detailed portrait of you minding your business.

Those stay tucked in your pockets for a while until your bedside drawer becomes their new home.

One night, he teaches you how to spin a coin on your knuckles, the brim of his worn Stetson tilted low, making you wonder if the slight pressure of his thigh against yours is part of the lesson or a happy accident. "Now, imagine that was a ring... wearin' it on the wrong hand, of course, but I reckon I could fix that."

And somehow, even though you could practically hear the ghostly whispers of every woman he's ever charmed, foolishly, your heart still does a little two-step.

As thunder rolls, so does the poetry from his lips. A small leather-bound volume from which he recites verses of silken touches and midnight trysts.

Whe he finishes, calloused fingers lift your chin slightly. "They say that thunder's the sound of the sky fallin' in love. And look at that... it's fallin' for you tonight, just like I am."

A kiss, not rushed, but a slow burn. Vaguely stirs memories of bourbon sipped by a campfire. Smokey, yet mischievously sweet, his lips part yours with a gentle demand. "Tell me somethin', sweet girl," he murmurs. "You ever ride a cowboy? 'Cause I'm thinkin' we find ourselves a quiet corner, and I'll show you a thing or two 'bout holdin' on real tight."

And in two shakes of a lamb's tail, Logan carries you to the backroom, away from all the raucous and the ruffians. He slides the bolt home, the click deafening in the suddenly small space. Only a single lantern to witness your sins, a rough wooden table your makeshift altar.

A lasso, strong and supple, twists around his palm. "Reckon you got a taste for the finer things. Right, darlin'?" He ties the knot, drawing your wrists closer, snug against your rear. Not in a harsh bind, but a tender restraint. "Just enough... to keep you entertained."

Loosened buttons and hiked-up skirts aside, his hand snakes between your legs, grazing your clit as he stretches you six ways to Sunday.

"Fallin' apart so soon, sugar?" Logan clicks his tongue thrice, and your hips instinctively buck. "Well, ain't that somethin'?" Eyes wide from genuine surprise. A whistle, cocky and clear, hits your cheek. "You're takin' to this faster than my prize-winnin' mare, and she's been broke in proper. Guess you're a natural, darlin'. Or maybe," he whispers, hot against your ear, "you just know how to please your cowboy."

A loaded six-shooter springs up as his jeans fall open, teasing your cunt with his slick, glistening head. No more can his patience bear the force of his desire.

Thrust after thrust, you wither from the glorious onslaught. There's a wild need to touch him, toss the hat and tangle your fingers in his hair, feel the rippling muscles he'd so gracefully shown glimpses of. Only the rope makes it agonisingly impossible.

Soft whines—which he takes the utmost pride in provoking—turn into ragged gasps. As your cunt clenches around him, milking him dry, Logan spills inside you with shallow grunts. "Sweet mercy," he chuckles, kissing you something stupid. "Now, just what am I gonna do with you, doll? Makin' a fella like me consider settlin' down."

Dramatic, in the way he sighs, Logan curls his arms around you. "Or, we could just elope. Less fuss that way."

Gently, he unties the lasso, soothing the faint red marks along your wrists. "Sleep tight, gorgeous. And dream of me."

Yet, he's the reason you have trouble sleeping at all.

so, i got majorly carried away with cowboy!logan. very tempted to turn this into a proper fic.

[lynnie-s3all]

Yo wsg mootie!! I hope your doing well! Since you still have requests on I hope you wouldn’t mind if I sent another one in ^^ onto my request…!

May I request (romantic) Mafioso, 1x1x1x1, and John Doe with a Reader who’s an artist and is always seen drawing in their notebook whenever they can? and perhaps they even draw the characters I’ve mentioned and shows them?

Thank you! Have a good day or night!!! :-)

Edit: Yes this is Zyran in the morning because i did not do uhhhh stuff today. I'm getting breakfast for myself

You inspire me more than i do... my love.

Forsaken killers x Artist reader.

While he would be busy hanging out with his other folks, you grabbed your notebook and decided to draw him in small doodles.

Not just those, you also drew his bunny <3

Whenever you're finished, you would come up to him and show it to him.

He was impressed by the details you drew on him, especially his coat, hat, almost every prominent feature he has on him. He loved the way you also drew his bunny too.

"that's actually lovely, princess. Keep drawing more. I would be so much proud looking at them each day."

Whenever you had a crashout, and maybe really feel upset to the point that you don't feel like drawing, he'll step in to help and comfort you.

"It's not horrendous, lovely... What makes you think it's bad? You know how i appreciate most of your little doodles on your notebook. Don't give up drawing. Maybe take a break if you need to."

You adore him so much.

I don't really say he's the opposite for everything, but you know how he is when he's around people. Really annoyed.

Well, here's a catch. You doodled him while he was watching TV with you at home, he didn't really payed too much attention for you a lot.

As you draw the small details, he just looked at you, while you're silently drawing.

"Well, what are you doing in that book anyway? Reading...?

"No, I'm not reading, silly. I just wanted to show you something."

Well now he was curious.

Once you finished doodling, you gave him your notebook. He was pretty much astonished when you did draw him with his crown. even with that hair... Just how gorgeous it is.

"The details in this art, you did made me look pretty handsome."

"Not really good though..."

"Who says it doesn't, I'm going to check your other pages in here"

"NO 1X DONT-"

Well you two ended up arguing if he should check it or not, but he just refused to give it back and wants to see your other drawings too. Now you're left filled with embarrassment.

John doe on the other hand...

He really adores your drawing so much.

He usually leaves your drawings on the wall with blood on the paper, I'm not sure why he decided to do that.

Uhm. there's a certain thing he wanted to do actually.

Since he likes to kill people, he told you to draw him with one of the victims... blood.

"What did you do this time John..."

"Please draw me with this person's blood."

You were concerned for him. But you fulfill his request anyway. Also because you don't want to question a lot on why.

"Alright sure..."

Once you finished drawing the art... Since human blood dries up a bit fast due to it evaporating, you had to take it for a bit faster pace, but you managed to make it look pretty.

You showed your drawing to him, you drew him with red roses too.

He was very happy.

TO THE POINT THAT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY RIGHT AFTER YOU USED SOMEONE'S BLOOD TO DRAW.

[mmmilkweed]

I'm still here!

hi all, just wanted to update y'all on how I'm doing.

Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, for the kind messages and anons. Every single one picked up a tiny piece of me and placed it back into its original place. I cannot thank you enough.

.. There's no easy way to say I'm still not doing good. BUT! I am doing *better.* Even if just a little, I consider it a win.

Mornings are a heavy issue. The past two, I've thrown up. Not today though, so that's a win right? Nightmares plague me - even today I caught myself dreaming that, once again, my words have been used against me and I was left alone, with only hatefull paragraphs to keep me company. Had I not realized I didn't have my phone in my hands when I woke up, I might have thought it was real. Man. Just another reason to have an aversion to my phone!!

I found a new.. Man, I never thought I'd use this word. I found a new trigger for my, what I can only assume, are panic attacks. Discord notifications. Just seeing the icon on the notification bar has my heart in my ears and I can't breathe. I still don't know how to efficiently calm myself down from these. While walking helps, I sit back down and it starts again. My job requires me to sit!! I've begun just brute forcing past it.

My appetite has completely vanished. I usually eat a decent amount through the day, but for the past 4 I've hardly been able to finish a single plate of food in a day. Yesterday I struggled with a can of monster. I LOVE MONSTERRR and yet I kept nursing it the WHOLE day. I was so mad... I'm going to go to my favorite restaurant soon, gonna work on getting my appetite back up.

On the way to my atelier, the song that inspired Timeless!AU came on: For Her by Jeremy Jordan. I adored this song. It meant everything to me, it's going to be on my Spotify wrapped from how much I listened to it. I.. Can't. Anymore. I put it on blast, I couldn't bring myself to skip it - and still, even when I was walking my heart beat faster than it should and I suddenly found myself out of breath. Negativity seeped into my favorite song. Figures

Still - it brought me some clarity. Past days I've really been feeling like a monster - but For Her made me remember that the AU really was always meant for this unrequited love, the whole thing somewhat inspired by the Great Gatsby and a dream that's just out of reach. How could I let myself be deluded so much? How did I let their words get to me so deeply that even I began questioning myself? ESPECIALLY since they don't me at ALL?! I saw someone say something so outrageous it become an inside joke with my friends! That really helped to disillusion me. I hope that with time, or with enough replays, I can find comfort in For Her again.. And I will. Jeremy Jordan is too good not to listen too

It's not all bad, though. I know I've been venting, yet I have to tell it at least to someone that's not my wife. Poor thing, I feel bad for her. She shouldn't be weighted my mistakes.

now let me tell you about the good too.

Oh there's so many amazing people in this community. Like each of you. Like my community on discord. Like my closer contemporaries. Discord notifications are not as scary when I see a certain groupchat or even server. Yes, while my heart skips a beat - I've laughed far more than cried. I can't thank them enough. I'll never bring it up to them, I don't need to drag down their mood, so I'm telling yall instead.

I've begun drawing again. I feel like I understand Shadow Milk Cookie on a very personal level now. If his demeanor changes going forward... I'm probably projecting.! Oh I've gotten to the point in rock bottom where I imagine PV helping me out with stuff. Man that's embarrassing to say. Akctually everything here is embarrassing to say - I still feel ashamed my body has such a visceral reaction to.. All of this! I digress. I began drawing again. I'm happy with what I have, can't wait to start showing yall.

I've begun scrolling Twitter too. In small doses. My modteam suggested it, and woah, it helped scrolling through the splatoon tag. I can't just up and leave it, as it's my current main source of income. I'm watching CRK tiktoks too! Slowly.

I'll try to be stead fast in my recovery - I've come to realize there are people who are dependant on me, they look to me to see how they should react. I did not see that before, and for that, I also apologize. Many have pointed out I'm new to this, and only now did I realize just how right you were. Especially as someone whos always kept to a side line - having a voice baffles me.

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 10

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

-----

The town is a wreck, but there's still space for them at the hospital.

Nancy recognizes a few of the doctors - ones who know about the Upside Down - and they're all whisked away into two private rooms. One for Eddie, and one for Max.

Steve is stuck with Eddie. He hates thinking of it like that, because he wants to be with Eddie, but he wants to be with Max, too. He wants to prowl back and forth between them, like his presence will make any difference.

But Eddie's heart is still in his chest, and while the doctor had praised his quick thinking in helping his friend, it's too risky to have Eddie's heart far away from his body while he's healing.

So Steve's in the chair next to his bed, hooked up to the heart monitor and listening to the faint but steady sound of Eddie's heart as he feels it beat in his own chest.

Dustin and Robin go back and forth, one of them always with him and the other giving updates when they come to switch out.

It's Dustin in the chair next to his now, and he feels the echo of his own heart next to Dustin's, knows the kid must be feeling what he is - and probably a little bit of Eddie's, too.

Three hearts, all entwined. Robin could make something poetic from that, he thinks.

All he can do is let Dustin pillow his head on his shoulder, press his hand to his own chest and think come back to us.

Eddie's hand twitches.

Steve jolts up, reaching for it automatically.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, even though his eyes are closed and his expression hasn't changed. “Dustin?”

Dustin makes some kind of strangled noise, fumbling for Eddie's other hand. “Can he feel us?”

“I've got his heart, and you've got mine, so yeah, he has to, right?” Steve asks, aware he sounds a little desperate and not really caring.

“Come on, Eddie,” Dustin pleads. “You have to wake up, okay?”

Eddie wakes up.

—

“I should have died in there.”

Steve feels his jaw tense. “No, you shouldn't have.”

“No, I meant - doc says I would have died, if you hadn't taken my heart,” Eddie says.

Oh.

“I know,” Steve admits. “That's why I asked for it.”

Eddie exhales, long and slow. “Where'd you learn that?”

“Eighth grade science,” Steve replies, shooting a little grin at him.

Eddie gives a surprised little laugh. “Seriously?”

“Eh, kind of.” Steve considers for a moment. He's never talked about this with anyone, but - “My parents used to lock their hearts in a safe in my dad's study at night. When I was little, and I got upset at them leaving, they told me they put their hearts in there when they went on trips, too, and I had to stay behind to watch over them.”

Eddie looks at him, soft and tender. Steve'd think it was pity, if it wasn't for Eddie's heart in his chest. It's just sad, and a little angry.

“I told Mr. Clarke about that, and he said it was hogshit.”

Eddie snorts. “Mr. Clarke said hogshit?”

“Who's telling this story?” Steve retorts, then laughs when Eddie mimes zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key.

“It was hogshit,” Steve continues. “But then he told us that people could survive potentially fatal injuries with heart exchanges. Then, after Starcourt…”

He trails off, not sure how to say it.

“Robin told me a little,” Eddie admits. “That it was the Russians and the Upside Down, and you let yourself get caught to cover for Dustin and Erica. That you tried to draw attention away from her.”

Oh.

That makes him sound more heroic than the moment felt, but at least it also makes this easier.

“The Russian spies, they had this thing that could open your chest. They didn't believe I was telling the truth, so they took my heart out.”

Eddie reaches out to take his hand, squeezing it tight. There's a faint trickle of horror and guilt and affection, and he knows that Eddie's put it together with the changes in his heart.

“I healed a lot faster because we were doing heart exchanges,” he finishes. “So I figured it'd keep you safe.”

Eddie's grip on his hand tightens. “I really am sorry,” he mutters. “About last summer. After - after that, you needed a friend, and I just left.”

Steve licks his lips, considering his response for a moment, before he goes with honesty. “I had friends. I had Robin and the kids, and they were enough. I didn't really need anything else. But - I wanted you.”

Eddie looks at him, and Steve can feel - hesitation, uncertainty, does he really want me?

“Eddie,” Steve says, slow and thoughtful. “I don't want you because I'm lonely, or I have no one else. Maybe there was a part of that when it first started, but - I'm okay, I'm happy. I want you because of you, not just because I want anyone.”

Shock filters through Eddie so hard that Steve feels it like an almost physical blow.

His heart aches.

He doesn't have to ask if that's something that Eddie hasn't been told before - he knows it already.

“I'm not letting you go,” Steve tells him, only because Eddie's heart is still beating in his chest and he's confident it will be well received. “Not this time.”

“I can live with that,” Eddie says, only a little shaky.

—

Dustin takes a turn swapping hearts with Eddie, and Steve heads immediately for Max's room.

Lucas is there, sitting by her bed and holding her hand.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. “How's she doing?”

“Same,” Lucas says flatly. “But she's in there, I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks.

“We swapped before - before. Just in case. To give her another tether to the real world.”

Shit, that was a great idea. It gives him more hope, and he sags a little in his chair.

“Jesus, you kids are smart,” Steve says, impressed.

Lucas looks at him funny. “We learned that from you, Steve.”

He doesn't really think that's true, considering he learned it from them just as much, but he lets it be, just gripping the back of Lucas's neck and giving him a little squeeze.

Lucas unwinds, just a little bit, and Steve gets a better look at him - notices his swollen eye, his puffy jaw, and feels a cold surge of rage.

He waits for a moment to let the worst of it pass, then asks, “Swap?”

Lucas looks over at him, clearly hesitant.

“The three of us are kind of banged up,” Steve says. “Figure it can't hurt to have more heart power at work here.”

Lucas snorts. “Heart power?”

“Heart power,” Steve confirms, radiating as much confidence as possible.

He's not sure if it works, but Lucas does open his chest up and carefully pull out Max's heart. Steve's extra gentle as he swaps them, tucking her heart into his chest.

It's immediate, what Lucas was talking about. There's only the faintest sense of Max, and an equally faint sense of a fear and guilt and love that he recognizes as Lucas - the residual of what Max is feeling from him, he guesses. Even stranger is an echo he can feel of his own emotions - from him to Lucas to Max and back to him again, apparently.

“Huh,” he says, at the same time Lucas goes, “Woah.”

They sit there, together, and Steve must fall asleep at some point because the next thing he knows, there's the shifting of a chair as Lucas jumps up. Steve startles, only to see El and Will and Mike come flooding in. They sweep Lucas into a hug, and Steve watches them hold on, clinging and desperate.

Eventually, they peel apart, and El goes to Max's side, taking her hand. Her eyes close for a long while, then open again, looking sad.

“I can't reach her,” she whispers. “Not even with my powers back.”

“She's there, though, right? I can still feel her,” Lucas says.

El's brow furrows.

“Max and Lucas swapped before this happened,” Steve explains. “To keep her tethered here, so Vecna couldn't take her.”

Mike frowns. “Vecna?”

“One,” El says, which - okay, yeah, clearly there's a story there, but not the time. She holds her hands out to Lucas. “May I swap?”

Lucas looks over at Steve, and he takes Max's heart out and offers it to her.

“We figured the more helping, the better,” Lucas says.

El exchanges her heart for Max's, looking thoughtful. It's an even bigger rush, with El in the mix, and - even though Max's heart isn't in his chest anymore, he can feel the echo of her even more clearly.

Lucas sucks in a breath. “It's working,” he says. “She's stronger.”

“The more, the better,” El says thoughtfully.

“Eddie woke up from me and him and Dustin sharing,” Steve says, the realization coming over him. “I mean, it wasn't a real circle, but he was just regularly unconscious, not creepy wizard unconscious.”

El looks at Mike, who immediately turns on his heel and leaves. He comes back a few minutes later, with Dustin and Robin and Erica.

“We made Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle stay with Eddie,” Mike announces.

“Uh, yeah, do you want to tell us why?” Dustin asks.

El's eyes flash. “We're going to get Max back.”

Hearts change hands quicker than Steve can keep track of, but in the end, no one has their own heart in their chest. It's an avalanche of emotion that Steve can't make out - so much it’s almost overwhelming - until he feels something like a guiding hand, firm and insistent.

“Max,” El whispers.

Steve turns his thoughts completely on Max, focusing on her - on taking her to the arcade, on the skate park, on her hanging out in his kitchen as they cook dinner. One by one, everyone's emotions start to take focus - on how Max makes them feel, how much they care, how they need her here.

Max's eyes open.

—

They set up another rotation schedule, this time for Max, who looks a little shell shocked and overwhelmed by all the attention.

“Did you think we wouldn't do this for you?” Steve asks quietly when it's his turn, when Lucas and El are sleeping and it's just him and Max awake in her room.

She doesn't answer for a while, but he can feel her conflicted confusion and then unsteady acceptance.

“No,” she says after a while. “I knew you guys would.”

He breathes out, and they sit in silence for a bit.

“Did you read my letter?” she asks, purposefully not looking at him.

“Nah. You said it was just in case, and there wasn't going to be an in case. We weren't going to let Vecna have you.” He manages to keep his voice steady, though he knows she can feel the edge of the fear he'd had for her. “I wanted to hear what was in it from you.”

She makes a face, and he thinks she isn't going to tell him, but then she blurts out, “I said I wished you were my brother, not Billy.”

Oh.

His stomach drops out, and there's a rush of vertigo that leaves him breathless for a moment, but - not in a bad way.

He doesn't know how to respond to that, other than, “I am your brother.”

She scoffs. “It doesn't work like that.”

“Sure it does,” he counters, growing confident. “Billy was your brother just because of a piece of paper your parents signed, right?”

She frowns, finally looking at him again. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So what's stopping us?” He taps his chest, over where her heart beats. “We have each other's hearts. We'll always be family.”

Max looks away again, then, very quietly, says, “Okay.”

—

“Heard you call Max your sister when you were talking to the doctor earlier,” Eddie says.

Steve feels a little smile tug at his lips as he takes Eddie's hand. It grows when Eddie laces their fingers together.

“You know Dustin's going to throw a fit when he hears it, and insist that you were his brother first, right?” Eddie teases.

“Of course he is.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Welcome to my family. You sure you still want to stick around?”

He's joking, but Eddie's expression goes soft and contemplative.

“Welcome to your family, huh? You planning a proposal soon, big boy?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve's mouth goes dry. He thinks he should say something - anything - but nothing comes out.

“Swap?” Eddie asks, after a few minutes.

Steve's not sure if someone told him or if he figured it out himself, and part of him wants to ask Eddie if he's sure, but he decides to take Eddie at his word. He opens his chest up, holding out his heart.

Eddie copies him, and - it's his first real look at Eddie's heart. There's silver lines all over it, delicate scars mottling its surface, but it's almost as deep red as Steve's still is.

“Oh,” Steve breathes once Eddie's heart is safely tucked inside his chest again.

There's a love there so strong he almost doesn't know what to do with it - isn't sure if it's Eddie's or his for a moment before he realizes it's both of them feeding off each other.

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

Steve lifts Eddie's hand up, presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I know what I want my future to look like,” Steve admits. “And I want you in it.”

Eddie swallows, and Steve can feel an edge of trepidation before it solidifies into something sharp and determined. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve asks.

“I'm sticking around, this time,” Eddie confirms. “For good.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees.

He knows it's a risk, but - right now, they're alone, and so he leans in to seal the promise their hearts are making with a kiss.

-----

And that's the final part for now! I do have a sequel planned down the road for what happens after they get out of the hospital, folding Eddie into the heart sharing and settling Eddie and Steve and Robin into a trio - I plan on using the tag "hearts out steddie" if anyone would like to follow it for when it comes out!

Thank you so much to everyone who commented, reblogged, liked, or otherwise interacted with this! Everyone's reactions were so amazing, and I really love reading your thoughts!!

Final taglist: @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @cryptid-system @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @persnicketysquares @samsoble @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse @breealtair @shunna @xtraordinarally @thatdamnfan @justalittledrainbamage @strangerfolks @disrespectedgoatman @amber-ambience @anxietyfulloption @thepossummoldypasta @irregular-child @th30ra3k3n @powdeeee @theohohmoment @5ammi90 @ominous-pool-light @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeens @rebellatlas @blackpanzy

[goshtoon]

NEEDS

Jayce x gn!reader (established relationship)

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: 18+, fluff, sub!Jayce, Thighjob, hurt/comfort (a bit), pre mental illness influx, still crying while sex (male giving),

Heavy footfalls echo trough the silent floor, each one wearier than the last.

As former student, turned to up-starting inventor, now turned councilor: Jayce Talis commands his limbs to obey him for merely five minutes more.

The pressure of being a protector to not only his close circle but all of piltover weighing each step down more than the last.

On top of that he had a fall out with Viktor, who seemed to only get more weak by the day, as his illness festers within him.

Jayce suppresses a broken sob, lifting his palm to steady himself upon one of the walls, before regaining his ragged pace.

It’s all too much, he feels as though he might just crumble to the floor and sob waiting for his mothers grounding hands to comb through his locks.

But there’s something much more reachable, and arguably just as soothing.

You, and your firm presence, the perhaps only unchanging constant, waiting for him just through the door at the end of the stretching hall.

At the sight of your apartment door, Jayce’s body gets a rush, as if pricked by a needle, as something starts tugging within his chest.

An undeniable yearning pressing his feet to move faster, fishing out the key you had made for him.

It clicks in the lock and he moves in, pressing himself against the shut door heaving a low sigh.

„There you are…“ your voice drifts to his ears, almost as if cradling them each in some healing balm.

He finds himself unable to open his dry lips to speak back, almost as if something got stuck in his throat.

You’re clad in your sleep wear, having seemingly come from the kitchen, a steaming cup lodged between your hands.

Taking him in it doesn’t take a genius to take a guess at how he’s feeling. Tussled hair, a twitching hand, the slightly hunched back and his wobbling reddened bottom-lip.

These past few weeks it’s become a scarily common occurrence.

Brows furrowed, you step forward taking one of his shaky hands in your own, gently leading it to cradle the warm mug.

The warmth seeps into his skin, soothing the tension striking through his fingers. Letting out a small more content sigh he smiles at you, your own face mirroring his as you lean up to peck his lips. He almost collapsed into the kiss, desperately letting your warm soft lips mold against his own, bitten bloody on his own volition.

Pulling back, you give a gentle smile, partnered with his own lovestruck one.

„Don’t feel like talking right now?“ you incline your head, his own still too full of worry to form words, he wouldn’t know where to begin.

A slight tilt of his head confirms his intent to rest his voice for now, as you lead him into your living space.

It’s beyond dark out by now, and the main source of light are the fairylights strung all around the living room, that he made for you. They illuminate your shape in a golden like hue, as you cradle his unoccupied hand and draw him onto the couch.

„Now how about you sit here finish your tea and I give you a small massage?“ you quip up, a tender finger drawing circles on his palm.

The thought of your hands on him, gliding over his shoulders, his back and drifting lower and lower— do unspeakable things to his already spinning head. Mangled rotten worrisome thoughts are now partnered with guilt for the undeniable lust pulsing through him.

The thought of worrying about nothing at all, while you pamper him with all means at your disposal, a delightful prospect nesting in his emptying mind. Though the fear of not performing as he should, as he would want rips into the rosy notions.

He visibly deflates, rubbing his neck, giving a low hum.

„I’d love that“ he croaks, you perk up, moving behind the couch to rest your hands on his jacket. Slowly and gently you pry it off of him, with a little help from the wearer.

The mere ambience, you and the echoing silence seem to do wonders on Jayce’s static filled mind, as he closes his eyes and leans back into your touch.

You make sure to fold the jacket on the armrest, before starting of gently on his shoulders. Feeling the amount of tightness, as you give a considering hum, making sure to rub firm circles into them.

Jayce’s body goes slack under your calculated movements, his head falling back into the backrest, giving you a beautiful view of his visibly relaxing face.

His lashes flutter, as his lips part gently letting out small huffs of air and noises of distinct approval when you unfurl a particularly tight spot.

You almost lose yourself in the task, finding the sight of him and the noises to be the most rewarding of things.

“You’re incredible” he breaths, his eyes still closed and you believe the stray praise is more instinctive rather than targeted.

Making sure to firmly yet gently disperse all the knots within his muscles.

It doesn’t take long before Jayce is almost slipping off the couch, his body turning into putty beneath your firm touches.

“There we are” you mutter gently, earning a content sigh from the man who now gazes at you with his amber eyes, the most lovestruck expression gracing his sculpted features, the teacup long abandoned on the coffee table.

“Wow” he smiles at you, fumbling to upright himself. Having seemingly significant trouble, probably due to parts of his body having fallen asleep.

When he finally does his hands gently lay upon your hips as he presses a gentle kiss to the area above your stomach within reach of his still sitting frame.

“Thank you” he mumbles, snuggling into the previously kissed area, as you comb through his stray locks.

He’s still in his head you note, though his body may seem free of tension.

“How about you get ready for bed” you murmur, earning a huff from Jayce, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you steady like an anker.

Having to resist the urge to let him mope like this

As adorable as he is whiningly pouting like this, you have another idea how to get him to unwind even more— and for that you need him in bed.

“If you get to bed, I might have something for you” you whisper, his gaze snaps up as he gauges your mischievous smile and raises brow.

“I see” he grins up boyishly, before letting go of you and propping himself off the couch.

He wavers a bit, instinctively you reach out a steading hand though your lovers catches himself, uttering out a slight curse.

The plan forming in your mind, is to get Jayce to bed, knowing him though his body might be at ease no, his mind is most certainly still full of worry. Full of worry for Viktor, the council, the city both upper and under parts. You know it’s getting to him, having to take a place to make live changing decisions when you were just a mere inventor.

Hoping to be able to get him to lose himself for the night you gather a few things, hearing the unmistakable clatter of Jayce rifling through your stuff, most likely searching for some of his own clothes.

Though he has been around a lot more since joining the council, he technically hadn’t moved in yet.

“On the cupboard” you shout across the floor, hearing a pause before the clicking of his tongue.

Collecting a bottle of chamomile oil, taking a quick waft of it and a towel— you make your way to the bedroom yourself.

The scene upon entering is one which leaves your heart aching, Jayce fumbling with the top buttons of his shirt, seemingly a puzzle to his weary fingers.

Stepping forward, you lay the bought items on your bed, before laying your palms upon his own. His wide glittering eyes meet yours, as he pouts down in frustration. He lets his arms fall slack to his side as you gently undo the buttons.

„You’re still in your head“ you note, as you see his fingers twitch at his side, urging to do something.

„It feels wrong to rest“ he whispers frustrated, nursing his bottom lip between his teeth. He lets out a sigh as you press your fingers through the crevice of the open shirt, laying your warm palm upon his fuzzy chest.

It’s warm and rising as well as falling steadily, while his heart thumping beneath picks up speed when you coo at him.

„Jayce, pushing yourself like this, it’s taking from your ability to help when it might truly count..“

You’re meet with silence, your words might ring true within him tough he can’t accept them right now. He has a lot of people counting on him.

„It’s okay for now“ you move to turn, hands slipping of his chest.

Before your left hand can fall to your side he grasps for it, before pulling it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your wrist.

„Come here“ you shift to sit on the bed, tugging him along, his weight finding its place beside you.

„You can’t resolve all the cities troubles in one night“ you remind, his face a reflection of his inner turmoil, before he sighs and his shoulders sack.

„You’re right“ he smiles at you, though his eyebrows still mirror his distress.

Then his eyes shift onto the items laid upon the comforter. His face visibly flushing at the sight of the oil, knowing very well what its usage usually entails.

„I’m not sure if I could relax enough for—„ seeing where his thoughts are headed you are quick to lay your hand upon his thigh.

„No, that’s not what I had in mind— I was thinking of something else“ his initial thought rings in your mind, having thought about it earlier though sensing he might be in need of something else for now.

„And what’s that?“ he leans closer, you love him when he gets like this. It’s always such a stark contrast to when you both actually go at it, and he’s reduced to something more akin to a whining mutt.

„How about you lose the slacks and find out?“ you tease, shifting your form fully into the bed.

The pants are seemingly less of a challenge than the shirt was and in mere seconds Jayce’s frame clad in a lose linen shirt and a lose pair of underpants joins you.

„Those too“ you instruct, Jayce faltering as his gaze follows the point of your own, as you spread the towel you’ve brought earlier on the bed.

Gently he pries the underpants off, and no matter how many times you two do this it does not sway his face from flushing.

“Ah” he’s not only flush in his face you come to realize, but his cockhead has similarly flushed, a spurt of pre beading at the tip.

“My, Jayce, maybe I needn’t massage your insides anymore if a mere shoulder massage gets you just as excited” the remark gets him to gasp under his breath, furrowing his brows.

“I’m not opposed to either massages….” He counters, though its leverage falls short with his leaky cock out and twitching.

“Me neither” you remark, getting a hold of the oil, screwing open the cap to drizzle a decent amount onto your hand.

Jayce swallows sharply at the sight of the liquid pouring into your warm waiting palm, wishing it was an other substance.

You don’t need to lend him your pointed gaze to gauge his reaction. To most of Piltover who Jayce is, is by no means a mystery. Though only your sharp gaze truly can pick him apart and know him for what he truly is.

It pleases him to know end, knowing the power your attention holds over him.

Clasping your hands together you spread the oil across your skin, the scent wafting up your nostrils. When your hands are coated evenly you give Jayce an incline of your head.

His gaze is partially glazed over staring at your hands before meeting your gaze, the scent alone doesn’t fail to remind him off past intimacy, his cock already straining in his lose slacks.

“Please” it’s not exactly what you were hoping for, but what he pleads for is evident, when it’s punctuated with a jutting of his hips.

The warm digits of your fingers slowly take his twitching cock into their warm slick embrace. As you slowly nurse over the shaft, Jayce keeps the back of his hand over his face, his mouth agape in a silent moan.

Your left hand moves you the shaft, your palm doing circular motions over his leaking tip, whilst the other pays attention to his balls, gently coating them in a thin sheen of oil.

“I— can’t ah-“ Jayce is evidently overwhelmed, his face adopting one of your favorite expressions, with his eyes unfocused, face a flush and eyebrows furrowed.

Just when he starts to hump up into your hand you swiftly pull them both back. A whine bubbling from within Jayce’s chest as he heaves out a small sob.

The sound is not an uncommon indication for his pleasure to rough you lean over his lying frame to make sure he’s still with you.

“Hey there” you mumble

“Eh- hey” he responds, still breathing a bit heavily.

“Are you still okay with proceeding?” He finally meets your gaze, one you meet with a gentle smile. His own lips not quirking up but his eyes shimmer in determination as he eagerly nods.

“Good, now i need you to lay on your side like this” you pull back situating yourself on your side, Jayce slowly props himself up before paralleling your pose.

“Like this?”

“Yes, very good, a bit closer perhaps” his brow furrows a tad but he does as instructed without queries, his hand hovering above your hip.

Before he can move to do anything else you pull down your own sleep wear, your arousal very apparent.

Jayce’s eyes take you in immediately, his darkened gaze drinking in the sight of your wet twitching need, ultimately at arm’s length.

When his eyes drift up to your face again you’ve gotten a bit more oil into your hand, reaching down to spread it across your thighs.

Right about now he’s glad you took the time earlier to spread a towel on top of the blanket as he watched with bated breath how your thighs starts glistening much like his cock.

It’s probably about now that he realizes your intent, his face growing impossibly red as his lower lips starts shaking. He’s readily embarrassed, having admitted in a drunken stupor not long ago that he’s had a very similar fantasy akin to what you’ve constructed for a while now. With him being as busy as he is as of late, you’d both hadn’t come to have a lot of time to be intimate. Despite that, he had counted on you having forgotten about this particular confession, as he found himself embarrassed to have admitted it in a weakened state.

“Gods…” he whispers at the sight of your shining thighs so close to his pulsing need.

“You still in this sweetheart?” You murmur, leaning close to peek at the corner of his mouth.

He presses out a pathetic string of yes yes yes yes, as he tries chasing after your lips with his own.

“Good, put it between then.” You instruct gently, denying him of another kiss for now.

Instinctively Jayce juts his hip forward, the leaky tip of his cock pressing a brief kiss against the crevice between your thighs. You let out a sharp breath, gauging Jayce’s expression, as another whine slips from his lips.

“Slowly” you coo at him, laying your hand on his own, allowing him to find purchase against your waist.

Granted he tries to go slow, but pressing forth, the tight warmth of your slippery thighs, enclosing his throbbing cock, ultimate leads to an irrational thrust. Embracing his sensitive shaft fully.

Jayce head spins almost painfully as his thoughts wholly become consumed by the sensation of you.

“Wo— I- mu-ch better than anticipated…” he sobs and you see small tears pearl at the corner of his eyes.

Your hands reach up to cradle his cheeks as well as disperse the oncoming droplets.

“You’re doing amazing” the praise makes the hard appendage between your thighs throb, Jayce pulling at your hips to press his cock further through your thighs. His cock head jutting against your own arousal at the sudden movement.

“Jayce—“ you warn, when he burrows his face in your neck, his lips molding against your jaw to a leave a trail of apology kisses.

“‘M sorry” he sobs, and you gently embrace him, drawing small circles on his back.

“It’s okay” you whisper, as you start moving your hips back and forth gently. A shiver wreaks through his frame, as he buries his nose against the crock of your neck.

“There you are” you say pressing your thighs together putting pressure on jayces shaft.

The action makes him grow rigid as he Pulls you impossibly close. Spurts of his release pairing the inside of your thighs, bursting out below your ass.

Jayce tosses his head back, and you take the chance to nibble at his jaw, littering it with kisses as he rides out his orgasm high.

He suppresses a string on sobs, his face tear streaked as you part your thighs. His hand shots out, pressing it back down.

“Please” you stare at him, noting the need to just bask in this, your, warmth a bit more.

“Okay, we can stay like this for now”

You look behind yourself taking note of the mess

“Really glad I thought of a towel, such a mess” you playfully tsk, turning to Jayce as his face grows redder.

“It was definitely worth it” he utters “I think I wanna pull out now”

You slowly raise your thigh, as Jayce pulls back in tandem, falling onto his back.

Then shifts onto his side again facing from you, you’re familiar with the gesture, pulling around his frame from the back as he lets out a very content sigh.

“I need to tell you of fantasies while pissed beyond comprehension more often”

“You can tell me anytime, Jayce” he cuddles back into your frame, you pressing your lips against his shoulder blade.

“I know”

[cailinsblog]

The Girl of His Dreams |Connor bedard

Connor bedard x reader

Masterlist

It was an ordinary Wednesday afternoon, or so it seemed to Connor Bedard. He’d just finished a practice with the Chicago Blackhawks and was heading back to his apartment, mentally preparing for the upcoming game that weekend. But something in the air felt different today. Maybe it was the anticipation of his first full season in the NHL or maybe it was because of the event he couldn’t get out of his head—meeting her.

Y/N.

Connor had seen her across the room at a charity event a few weeks ago. She had caught his attention the moment she stepped into the venue, her warm smile lighting up the place. She wasn’t the type to draw attention, but there was something so magnetic about her presence that Connor couldn’t look away. He had been too shy to introduce himself that night, but it didn’t stop him from wondering who she was. The days that followed, Connor found himself thinking about her more than he wanted to admit. She was smart, kind, and beautiful in a way that was so effortless. He wasn’t even sure if he would ever see her again, but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

Then, by some stroke of luck, fate had intervened.

He had seen her again, this time at a coffee shop near the rink. She was sitting by herself, typing away on her laptop, completely unaware that the hockey star she’d caught the eye of was just a few feet away from her. Connor’s heart raced when he realized it was his chance. He had practiced this moment in his head so many times, yet he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so nervous.

As he approached her table, his palms were sweaty, and his nerves were nearly unbearable. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Y/N looked up, surprised to see him standing there. But her reaction wasn’t what he had feared. Instead of being starstruck or awkward, she just smiled, her eyes soft and inviting. “No, go ahead.”

Connor hesitated for a moment before sitting down, his heart still beating faster than it probably should have been. “I… I’ve seen you before. At the charity event. I’m Connor.”

Her smile grew, and for the first time, Connor felt himself relax. “Y/N,” she replied warmly. “Nice to meet you, Connor.”

The small talk flowed easily after that. They talked about their favorite coffee orders, what brought them to the charity event, and how Connor was adjusting to life with the Blackhawks. But as much as they talked, Connor found himself becoming increasingly aware of how badly he wanted to ask for her number. Every moment he hesitated felt like a missed opportunity.

After what felt like an eternity of talking, Connor finally took a deep breath and said, “I know this is a little forward, but would you want to maybe grab dinner sometime? Or… I could give you my number, and you could text me if you’d like?”

Y/N looked at him for a moment, as if considering her answer. The silence between them felt deafening, and Connor could feel his heart thudding painfully in his chest. But then, to his relief, Y/N smiled again, her eyes twinkling. “I’d like that. I’ll text you,” she said as she jotted down her number on a napkin.

Connor smiled wider than he ever thought he could. His nerves were still there, but now they were replaced with a wave of happiness and excitement that was impossible to ignore.

Over the next few days, the two of them texted back and forth, getting to know each other better. Their conversations were effortless, filled with inside jokes and shared laughter. And then, after a couple of weeks, Connor finally worked up the courage to ask her to one of the Blackhawks games.

“Hey, so I know this is a little last-minute, but would you want to come to the game with me tomorrow? I’ll get you tickets,” he asked over text, his fingers hovering nervously over his phone screen.

Y/N didn’t even wait a minute to respond. “I’d love to!” she replied, and Connor could feel his heart race again.

He picked her up the next evening, his nerves threatening to get the best of him. But when he saw her standing outside her apartment in a cozy sweater and jeans, he forgot all about the nerves. Y/N looked incredible, and as she climbed into the car, she flashed him that same warm smile that had first captured his heart.

At the game, Connor could hardly focus. He was too busy sneaking glances at Y/N, watching the way her eyes lit up when the crowd cheered. It was obvious to him that she wasn’t just interested in the game; she was genuinely excited to be there, to be a part of this part of his life. During a break in play, he handed her a Blackhawks jersey, the number 98 stitched onto the back.

“For you,” he said shyly, his cheeks flushed.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “You’re a part of this now, too.”

She accepted it with a laugh, pulling it over her head right there in the stands. “Thanks, Connor. I’ll wear it proudly,” she said, looking down at the jersey.

He couldn’t help but grin, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness. It was all so surreal—the idea that this amazing woman was now a part of his world.

But little did Y/N know, the real challenge for Connor was yet to come.

The night after the game, Connor found himself tossing and turning in bed. The Blackhawks had just finished a tough game, one where Connor had missed a crucial shot on goal. He knew he was capable of so much more, and the weight of letting his team down started to eat away at him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed.

So, at 3:00 AM, he did something completely out of character—he got in his car and drove to Y/N’s apartment, convinced that he needed to talk to someone who could help him put his thoughts at ease.

He knocked gently on her door, his nerves back in full force as he waited for her to answer. A few moments later, the door opened, and Y/N stood there, her hair tousled from sleep but her eyes soft with concern when she saw who it was.

“Connor? What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately stepping aside to let him in.

“I just… I don’t know. I had a bad game, and I feel like I’m letting everyone down,” Connor admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s heart ached as she walked toward him, gently taking his hands in hers. “You’re not letting anyone down, Connor. You’re young, and you’re still learning. You have so much potential, and there’s so much more to come. This is just the beginning for you.”

He looked at her, feeling the weight of her words settle into his chest. For the first time that night, the tight knot of anxiety loosened, and he felt a wave of calm wash over him.

Y/N reached up and cupped his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “You’re going to do amazing things, Connor. But you need to be kind to yourself, too.”

Connor smiled, the burden lifting off his shoulders. He leaned in, his lips brushing gently against hers in a soft kiss. It was full of warmth and comfort, a kiss that reassured him everything would be okay.

When they pulled away, Connor rested his forehead against hers, feeling safe and secure in her arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Y/N smiled softly. “Anytime, Connor. You’re not alone in this.”

As he held her close, Connor realized that meeting Y/N had been the best thing to ever happen to him. She wasn’t just the girl of his dreams; she was the one who would help him believe in himself when everything seemed overwhelming.

And in that moment, Connor knew that no matter what happened on the ice, he had someone who would always be there for him—someone who would love him not for his successes, but for who he was.

And that, more than anything, was enough.

---

[revehae]

ghost (r. fantasies)

warnings: masturbation, grave desecration, kind of angst

wc. 742

heeseung version posted on my enha blog @/ireverie. i am not plagiarizing myself guys

haechan misses you.

he can’t take it anymore. nights spent skin-to-skin with you in his arms, nights spent with your body on top of his as you rolled your hips, nights spent with him panting in your ear as you rode the soul out of him all taken away in one second before he even got the chance to say goodbye.

three whole months have gone by since then and to him, it still feel yesterday. one minute, he was confident he would come home to you waiting for him like you always did, and the next, he got that phone call.

haechan fists his cock as he perches on your grave, jean-clad knees stained with dirt. he doesn’t care. cheap denim jeans are replaceable; you aren’t. he tries to touch himself the way he remembers you doing it, picturing your warm, soft hands and pretty, gem-embedded nails wrapped around his cock.

his eyes flutter closed. you would start slow and steady, looking into his eyes as you pumped him, smiling up at him with your gorgeous, enticingly sweet eyes. haechan moans at the thought. you always knew exactly what what to do to make him lose his mind. only after he got all worked up, tip leaking profusely with precum, would you finally go faster.

haechan speeds up. his eyes snap open for a moment, glancing around to make sure he’s alone. it’s the middle of the night, no one should be around unless, much like him, they’re a freak in violent need of help. sensing no one, he allows himself to close his eyes again and resume the image of you in his head, eagerly jerking him off.

the tip of his heavy, aching cock is sticky with precum that coats the palm of his hand. it covers his whole shaft as he inadvertently smears it everywhere, rapid palm lubricating his cock the way your mouth would. you used to love that about him; he always comes so much.

“fuck,” he groans louder than intended, the very thought making his dick twitch in painful delight, in sweet yearning.

haechan desperately wants to go even quicker, but he forces himself to have some kind of restraint, wanting to do this the way he knows you would if you were still here with him where you belong instead of six feet underground.

at first, it was chilly outside to haechan. but now the cool, crisp air goes unnoticed as the scalding heat burns his sensitive ears down to his flushed cheeks down to his bobbing neck. you would, he remembers, nibble at the flesh behind his ears, kiss his soft cheeks, and suck at the quick, throbbing pulse in the base of his neck.

“calm down, hyuck,” you would tell him, giggling in his ear. god, he loved that sound. he still does. he would give anything to hear it again, one last time.

he sheds the jacket, feeling suffocated by how increasingly hot his body is getting, and tosses it onto the ground. haechan knows he’s close, that’s the only reason he’s making himself be patient. you never wanted to finish him too quickly unless you were impatient yourself. you liked to to draw it out, to make him wait.

it was fair, haechan thinks. he was always so busy, so caught up with work and the like that he rarely had time to spend with you. it was only fair that you made him ache just the way you did when he was gone for days, sometimes weeks on end. 

haechan wishes he would have gone about things differently. had he known his days with you would be numbered, he would have dropped everything to spend every available second with you. he would have never taken time with you for granted.

but he can’t hold back anymore. he needs to come. he needs you, but he knows that this as close as he will ever get to feeling you again. he teeth sink into his bottom lip a little too hard as he releases with a moan of your name followed by curses, shooting ropes of cum onto the nature-weathered stone of your grave and the dirt in front.

haechan breathes for a while, relaxing. he glances around, but still spots no one. then, he glances back at your grave, a heavy pang in his heart. 

“come back,” he whispers wistfully, knowing you can’t hear him, but hoping you can.

[woundedsoul12]

Thursday Bangers!!

Rules for your Copy and Paste: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays).

This week we are going a little Warden flavored with our lyric for the upcoming Davrin Week hosted by @datvcompanionweeks. Please consider contributing to their amazing projects even if it's simply be reblogging or reading a work.

Of course your offering doesn't have to be Davrin flavored but you guessed it... mine will be!

I'm prepared to sacrifice my life I would gladly do it twice - Mercy by Shawn Mendes

No pressure tagging @himluv @thedissonantverses @mythals-whore @serensama @whispersleo @tarasmom @hedwigoprah @becausedragonage @kindlyfeline @davrinsleftpectoral @fenrelmercar @plasticfreckles @kai-dimir @teamtakagi @a-mumbling-nerd @fiberpunk027 @larknnightingale @jenn2d2 @hyperions-light @tkwritesdumbassassins @feelslikepants @trash-nerd @cute-ellyna @brennacedria @lottiesnotebook @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @operative-arrow @librivore42 @obsessed-with-book-boyfriends @fireheartedpup @mikylechase @bonesandivy @vime5 @notyourmamasdeerbat @griffongrey @master-of-the-elements @chaoslifeforme @carrieing0n @lotusrhys @serstolas @beachhotdog

And if you are reading this...

You

Reminder if you want to be added/removed from the weekly tag list just let me know. Also please tag me when you post your bangers I love to read and share them (though I also browse the tag)

Davrin has never known what it's like to lose. To feel helpless. But as the beast pins him beneath its mass of fur and muscle, for the first time he feels true fear tingle up his spine.

But there is hope as he spies the glint of his sword just outside his reach. Knocked from his grasp by the monster's fierce tackle. And he debates if he can grab for it faster than the wolf can react. Before teeth can tear muscle from bone and his life will end in a final pitiful cry.

Not that he is afraid to die. Wardens are meant for this purpose. Prepared to sacrifice their life. He would gladly die, twice even, if it meant slaying the danger threatening his forest.

There's a split second where he hesitates. His eyes meet the violet irises of the beast’s, and he's transfixed on their glow. Something familiar, akin to recognition between them, stays his hand. A warmth that starts deep in the pit of his stomach and spreads throughout his limbs. And he finds himself unwilling to move despite the hold on him loosening.

Maybe it's madness. He's heard of the Taint consuming hunters in time, though most die well before those years come. But whatever it is, it seems to have seized the creature as well.

His brow furrows in confusion as the weight shifts off him as the wolf leans back on its haunches. Head tilting in an almost intelligent way. As if it is debating his existence. As if it now contemplates further harm.

He knows he should grab his weapon and strike the killing blow, but he simply sits up and watches. Both of them staring, waiting for the other to make a move. Until the beast bows its head in a sign of acceptance. And for a moment, a foolish desire so strong seizes him that it takes everything in him to fight it down. His hands tingle to reach out and touch. To run his fingers through the brilliant white fur. To make a connection that he knows will alter his life forever.

There's a small eternity as they silently sit there together. Until some unspoken thing seems to pass between them. When the very air seems to shift. A gasp escaping him as the monster begins to transform.

[running-with-kn1ves]

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE A PART 2 FOR THE KILLER CLOWN POOKIE :((((

A/N: Long awaited, took me forever to actually finish, but HERE IT IS. I really struggled making an interesting part 2, so I hope you find it mildly interesting anon (-‿-")

Link to 1st part found here!

TW: Murderous killer clown, mentions of past killings, blood, kidnapped reader, forced close proximity, isolation torture

Synopsis: Kidnapped by your killer clown stalker, you navigate being stuck in his toy room and being fed a very personal dinner, all while trying to avoid his loving insanity.

A room full of dolls, no matter their origin or purpose, is never an endearing sight. You swore even if the off-putting, Raggedy Ann and porcelain, dust-ridden dolls were anime figurines and children’s collectibles, you wouldn’t feel any safer in this hellscape. “Your punishment” he called it, and a punishment it was. Like a child made to spend the rest of the day in its bedroom, you were tied snuggly to the recliner chair in birthday string, forced to stare back at the eyes and broken limbs of endless toys. Of his, toys. Was this room part of the abandoned warehouse connected to the shit hole he called his home? Why did this room smell so repugnantly of petrichor and mold, when the rest of the “house” was either doused in bleach or rot that made your nose so dry it bled?

Maybe, if you had ever learned to properly meditate, the hours in here wouldn’t feel so head-splitting. The darkness nearly brought you to insanity, begging for the arrival of your captor to come slinking back in with another microwaved meal. You would’ve welcomed his manic personality and demented point of view, if it meant you could hear anything besides the echo of your own thoughts and the crushing sound of an analog clock's ticking. 

If only you were smarter, stronger, faster. You could’ve gotten out sooner, could’ve kept yourself away from this kidnapping entirely. But it was your stubbornness that led you to be “disciplined”, inside the toy room. Two hours ago on the shelf behind you, an old fire truck (you guessed, from the siren sound and reflecting red) went off, falling to the floor and proceeding to wail for several minutes. Even with your erratic, terror-stricken sobs leading you to beg for freedom from this room, your captor never unbolted the door.

 You hadn’t even heard his footsteps from the other side. Maybe he was out luring another victim, adding to the stockpile of bloody buckets in the closet, or perhaps your replacement-- a relieving sentiment. But you knew, from the hours he droned on about soulmates and how your appreciation of him that night that seemed years ago, you weren’t going anywhere. Atleast, not without provocation. 

Your exhaustion didn’t let you care if there was someone chained in the woodcutting section of the warehouse, if there was another layer of gore on the ground. You just wanted out from here, food in your gnawing stomach. You could even pretend to apologize, to care for him. Okay, maybe not that far, but you could give a convincing act. By now, you were sorry. Sorry you didn’t open your mouth to his prodding questions, didn’t comply when now it feels like it would’ve been so easy. 

You licked at the corner of your mouth, hoping a salty, fallen tear could reach your tongue. Your lips were so cracked, you’d give anything for chapstick, for some water to cover your sawdusted throat. 

So hoarse from screaming and wracking with sobs, you wondered if this was how he was planning to kill you. The day was inevitable, after what you’d seen him do… but, you really thought it’d be more horrific than this, more… agonizing. Maybe you should be grateful. Dehydration really isn’t too bad compared to drawing blood or whatever sick, Saw-type torture he had in mind. 

And like that, when you were near accepting this newfound death, Satan spoke. 

The creak of an industrial metal door respunded in your pounding head, your neck snapping and cracking to look toward it's screech.

“Hm-- I thought I let you out before I left.” His signature, raspy voice rendered muffled under his mask. “How long have you been in here?” 

The swift blade of a hunting knife came to the back of the recliner, letting the tight ribbon binding your hands and body fall to the ground, harmlessly. It looked so small now, so thin and fitting for this uncharacteristically silly, dusted room. 

“I--” You cut yourself off with a blood-spitting cough, the sensation of needles coming up and out of your throat. 

“Oh rats… look at you, covered in dust and all tear-stricken; It was only twelve hours,” He brushed the wet spot on your dusty cheek. “Sweet doll… that’s all it takes to drive you insane?” 

He laughed a short snort, reeking of dried blood and dirt. The diamond-patterned gloves usually adorning his bone-thin fingers were already gone, cold and clean hands pulling your bound wrists forward out of the chair. He drug you up far enough to get you out of the recliner. Legs weak and practically immobile, you did your best to keep your distance; but he was determined to make you lean on him, taking your hands to inspect. 

“Bruises don’t look too bad on you…” He mumbled, watching the dark ring that had formed below your palms. “But it's not right, I need to take better care of you, don’t I?”

He asked, as if your say meant anything. But you knew this; you were getting a hold of the game now. 

Nodding your head, you leaned just a tad against his damp shoulder for support, nearly ready to fall to the ground. From the sound of the metal roof, it had been raining only an hour earlier. You prayed it was rain drops staining into your sleeve. 

“I don’t feel good..” You mumbled, voice cracking under pressure. 

“Of course you don’t. That was the whole point of this little time out session, dollheart; but I bet you want to come out, to talk a little bit now, don’t you?”

He was always too comfortable, acting as if you were more than just an angry hostage. You were his darling, his pet, his everything. It made you sick, listening to the way he talked at you-- feeling like you were watching yourself from outside your body, as if these pet names were for somebody else. 

You forgot the whole purpose of this endeavor was to get you to cooperate; when you didn’t respond immediately, you could feel him tense up. 

Even a nod wasn’t enough, like you expected. What did he want, again? For you to say his name, to listen and to speak? All this time in here, and you barely reflected on the purpose of your discipline. 

He gave you another opportunity, a short kindness, placing his ridden jacket over your shoulders. 

“Are you hungry? Ready to come out and eat without problems?”

You swallowed the little saliva you could muster. 

“Please, yes...Quin.” You were so quiet, a small part of you doing it on purpose, shame in saying your kidnapper’s name so casually like old pals. You kept that anger at the back of your mind, ignoring how speaking rubbed your throat into a deeper raw. 

He led you through the thick steel door away from your prison, rubbing at the back of your neck in an attempt to soothe the state your throat was left in. You hobbled your way out, gaining some strength back in your jello-ified legs. 

“What do you want to eat, chicken or beef?” 

You almost threw up in your mouth remembering the frozen pasta options you had consumed for the past two months. Would you ever get to taste something besides starch and fake meat again? 

“...Chicken. Please.” You added, forgetting you were on thin ice. One wrong move and another needle-full of mystery fluid was stuck into your thigh and you went eye-to-eye with Raggedy Ann again. 

You let the apathetic creature grab hold of your sweating fingers, hand-in-hand as the labored breathing behind his stained, venetian-like mask became unbearable to listen to. It was different from the one you had seen him in the night you were dragged here; most of the time he wore something new, maybe depending on his mood or something as superficial as his outfit, you weren't sure yet. It made you more afraid, only being able to see shadowed green eyes beneath a painted porcelain, often accented with red and gold to accompany the splatters of gore that make way to his face. 

Quin watched you walk barefooted and soulless, taking in the familiar sights of the small inhabitable area of his “home.” What wasn’t inhabited by you most of the time, was reserved for Quin’s… activities. Despite thinking about what he must’ve done today, you were ravenous. 

He wasn’t wearing the usual get-up today-- the circus-like, ridiculous clown-inspired rags he dared to do most of his bidding in. It was… oddly casual, muted colors with dark layers to shield him from the cold. The mask looked out of place, wisps of fiery red hair covering his forehead and ears. The color was fresh, not fading into blonde like the last time you saw him a mere half-day ago. 

Quin pushed your shoulders down, placing you in the wooden chair that had already been pulled out; the way it was left after you had been drug out of it. 

“Sit. How tired are you?”

He pulls out a small keychain flashlight from his pants pocket. 

“Tired.” You respond, huddling into yourself as the cold from the floor crept in. It was freezing outside, late November proving to be no joke compared to the windy October day you last saw the sun.

Quin gave you a dead stare, shinning the light into your eyes. 

“Very funny. Do you feel like passing out at all? Your eyes are bloodshot.” He focused on each eye, temporarily blinding you before turning the flashlight off to put it back in his pocket. “Warm,” He mumbled, smoothing a finger from your chin to your throat. “A little too warm. Maybe got a fever being in that old room.”

“I’m just exhausted, I didn’t sleep… at all.” You didn’t have the energy to be angry, but the resentment and hate burrowing into you was making you more disgusted with him by the minute. Who was he to act worried and interested, after throwing you into a demented toy room for hours? “I couldn’t, being in that godforsaken room.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on the dolls, doll. I thought they’d keep you company.”

Your captor stood up, running his frozen hands along your jaw, smoothening your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Keep me company?” You remembered the firetruck, wanting to scream and cry until your body shook again. “I.. I don’t think I was alone, but there was something more than dolls in there. It moved, things were moved…” Tears rushed to your eyes, willing to fall faster after crying so recently. “ I can’t go back in there.”

You were firm in your words, looking up at him. You wouldn’t go back in there, you’d give yourself a heart attack before he managed to kill you. 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.” Quin bent back down to lay a hand on the wooden chair frame behind you, scanning your eyes. 

You tried to lean back, not too obvious yet not allowing him to get any closer. You could feel the exhale of air through the mask’s nose hitting your forehead. 

“I’d rather you kill me than put me back in there.” His chest was warm, from where you put a shaky hand to stop him. You didn’t have the courage to be firm, to do more than rest your palm there, as if you were feeling his heartbeat. It was gentle, a rhythmic beat that reminded you he was just as human as you were. A monster of a human.

“Really? You’re that scared, baby?” Quin smoothed the hair above your ear, resting his hand on your scalp. “Even after everything I made you see, more that you’re gonna see? You’re scared of some collectibles?”

You looked away, being the first to lose the staring contest he put in order. 

“It’s different.” You murmured through hoarseness, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach after hearing another sappy pet name.

“Fine. Next time I’ll just make you bleed our next guest dry. Its about time you learned the family trade.”

He placed a kiss to your cheek through the mask, doing little to acknowledge the wince you gave when he moved forward so quickly. By now, maybe you should believe him when he says he’s not killing you quite yet... But after witnessing so many of his activities, you can’t help but imagine yourself in his victims’ place, waiting for a knife to drag itself across your stomach.

The thought made bile rise in your throat. You had so little to vomit away, and yet you still felt the desire to rid last night's meal. You couldn’t do it. The dolls were better. You couldn’t hurt someone like that. It was now, that you realized how different watching was compared to actually doing it. You couldn’t stomach watching him work with his gadgets and coroner tools, how could you comprehend actually doing anything with them? 

The microwave began to churn alive after Quin’s button pressing, refrigerator door swinging to a close as the microwaves’ hum filled the damp, grainy room. Peeling wallpaper reminded you of an aging housewife, brown stains on the floor being a more comforting vision than looking up at your captor. 

Even if you kept your eyes down, you had to contribute-- to be more than a lifeless doll here, lest you get thrown back in again to that pit of clown memorabilia. 

“What did you do, while I was here?” 

Your voice cracks dryly, attempting to clean the dirt under your nails as you stare down. 

“Do you really want to know?” You could hear the smile through his words. “you've got such a weak stomach,” He waited for you to protest, continuing when you sat silently. “It wasn’t anything you would deem oh so “horrific,” really. Just some shopping at the hardware store, odds and ends.”

“Oh.” Is all you could muster. You continued to pick at your nails until the ending beep of the microwave resounded. Quin opened its door, grabbing the tips of the cardboard meal plate as it steamed. The smell of chicken and pasta filled the small, round dining room. 

Your stomach churned, hungry and yet sick at the thought of eating another mushy, microwaved meal of little to no nutritional value. 

“...Thanks, Quin.” You were mildly sarcastic, a habit you had forgotten to shove down in fear of punishment-- but you tried to shoot him a crooked, half-smile to cover it up. 

“Nothing but the best for you, doll.” The clown pulled out an unmatching foldable chair with a lengthy screech, a plastic fork with muted ends already sitting in front of him at the table. He was so lean, uncharacteristically gangly at the hips and forearms, but wide in his shoulders and thighs. It tooke everything in you to not scratch at the floor boards to get out, to run away from a man so close that took pleasure in hurting people just like you. 

You were going to comment on the fork, again still not understanding how a plastic utensil could cause enough damage to need to be shaved down, but Quin did something that struck you as even more unsettling. 

“I think, maybe we should go back a few steps. It would do us some good, rebuild our trust.” He stirs around the mixture in the cardboard frozen meal box. Quin looks toward you while he covers the bits of broccoli and chicken in alfredo sauce. “ If I can trust you again to be good to me, there’d be no reason to return to the toy room you’re so afraid of.”

You bit your tongue, trying to choose your words wisely. He overstepped, but you shouldn’t be trying to stomp on his toes either-- save future you some punishment, you told yourself. 

“Thats not necessary, I’ve… you know I just need some time to adjust, I’m kept here all day and--” 

Quin suddenly patted at his lap in interruption, opening his legs and turning himself to face you. 

“Come sit.” 

You look at him incredilously, trying to garner a reaction out of that stoic, masked face. 

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Just sit, you’re hungry, aren’t you.”

Gritting your teeth, you shoved down an insult, wanting to throw fast words on how the hell he knew what you wanted, who he thought he was to tell you what to do!

You sit there in defiance, utter disbelief and anger at how he watched you quietly, patiently stirring the pasta absentmindedly, the other tapping his leg twice again-- like he was calling a dog. 

He puts both hands on his knees and looks as if he’s about to get up. His bottom nearly leaves the chair before you race out of yours, taking an uncomfortably close step to prevent him from moving any further. It would do no help in a fight, but you could at least make it as uncomfortable for him to try and hurt you if he wanted. You knew better now that when you were walking on cracking ice, to work faster than he did-- he was unlikely to carry out his undesired punishment that way.

Quin relaxes, putting his back against the fold-up chair with a squeak. His palms still grasp his knees looking up at you, an expectation in his body language. 

“Well?”

You turn to the side, lining up with his thigh in preparation to sit. The idea of sucker punching his head is mouth-wateringly appealing. You almost consider it, despite the implications of what will come after; yet, the masked murderer is quicker than you, cutting off your plotting thoughts. 

Cold hands grab at your hips, lurching you down and back against his chest, the full weight of your butt on his thigh. Immediately you hold your weight back up, hovering above his leg as you fear the oddly heated sensation of being against someone, close to another living being. It's been a long time since you felt skin on skin contact. 

“Sit down, you're insulting me,” Quin complained with an effort of wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back. “Acting as if I'm the plague. Just eat.”

You'd try and pull up again but his arm would not relent. It felt uncomfortably close with his leg shifting under you, the muffled sound of his breathing and speech under the puckered mask. 

He didn't seem uncomfortable with your weight on his lap-- weirdly… more relaxed, oddly calm. Shoulders slumped, legs open in the usual masculine spreading fashion-- if you didn't know better, you'd say he was enjoying this. 

Staring down at the steaming pasta, you swallow down your dissipating apetite. Quin picked up the small fork, looking away from you. Every millisecond that he took his gaze away, you fought back the urge to escape. He twisted thin noodles around the fork, stabbing a piece of broccoli along the way. 

Letting go of you for just a moment Quin used his free hand to lift up the Venetian mask from his chin, pushing it just barely above his lips. He bent down gently to blow on the fork, flurries of steam pushing away from the utensil. You watched, mildly weirded out at his softness, feeling the heat of the meal container radiate toward you. 

Quin, finished with his motherly theatrics, pushed the fork towards your mouth. You instinctively pulled your head back in a flinch. 

It looked as if he was about to say something, jaw clenched in a grating fashion. 

“...Thank you.”  This sugarsweet, docile behavior you had to pretend to play was even harder than you were hoping. 

You leaned forward, reaching your hand out to take the fork as you opened your mouth. But Quin didn’t let it go, allowing your fingers to rest on his as you tried to take it. The pasta was gently placed against your tongue, filling your mouth as you bit down. 

The killer slowly, --too slowly you might add-- removed the fork from your lips. He was watching, his eyes and gentle, plum lips nearer than they ever had been before. You had never seen him up so close, only mere inches away as you cautiously chewed. 

A thought ran across your mind, wondering if the food had been tampered with-- but at this point, did it matter? It likely wouldn’t be the first time, or the last. 

Quin repeated the process, softly blowing on the food before feeding you with a tenderness that wasn’t mean for a captor and his captive. 

You appreciated the silence, though; no bitingly silly remarks or sadistic smiles, just a softly domestic scene with the humming of the yellowed refridgerator. 

The wrongness of having someone watch you eat, waiting till you’ve swallowed, making sure you’ve taken every bit off of the fork-- it was like being watched by a crowd, not showing immediate judgement and yet just as uncomfortable. 

“You’ve got a little,” Quin hesitated, putting the fork back down in the frozen meal plate. His nimble hand came to hold under your chin, pulling your face closer to his. You could feel his breath now tickling your nose as he parted his lips in concentration. A wintry thumb swiped over the corner of your mouth, taking away stray sauce that hadn’t made it to your mouth. 

“There; what a mess you make. Looks like you're trying to tease me, acting all helpless.”

You were ready to react, but a splotch of something dark resting on the clown’s open chest caught your eye. You thought it was a birthmark at first, one you had never noticed before-- but upon closer inspection, you saw it was uneven dots of blood, dried and smudged. 

Your tongue went dry, breath getting caught in your throat as you recalled his words earlier. Was up to nothing, huh? 

…How many people have died since you’ve been stuck alone in that room? 

The fear of your impending death was rising in your throat in the form of acid, no longer hungry for anything-- merely sick and distraught. What was he saving for you, what were you going to become-- he may be spouting nonsensical “I love you” ‘s and such, but how could you believe it when so many have been killed in your stead? 

Quin ignored the creased lines of horror on your face, the silence of your twitching frown as you kept your gaze on his soiled neck. 

“Alright, now open wide.” Quin brushes your cheek with one hand, the other holding another forkful of pasta and chicken. 

Your lips shake, finding it hard to keep your mouth anything but clamped shut as you remember the foul sights, the smells of the rest of this warehouse-- how could you be so stupid, thinking maybe you’d find one way to get this all to stop, a daydream of freedom from this dank hellhole. 

You’d better start getting used to saying ‘I love you.’ 

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monstet stories

December 8.) Horny Krampus

Sorry everyone this one was supposed to br way longer than this but I'm having really bad writers block. I might try to rewrite it eventually I just had to finish what little I had if I want stick to the schedule.

Warnings: NSFW, spit as lube, bare minimum prep, swearing, possessive behavior, stalking behavior

Minors Don't Interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Three weeks. 

You only got three weeks a year with him and then you had to wait longing for his touch until next year. 

It was like clock work. December 1st at midnight the sound of heavy hooves landing on your roof waking you. The last two years you would wake up a minute or two before the stroke of midnight in anticipation of his arrival. 

Giddier than a kid on Christmas day you threw the blankets off yourself and rushed to the living room. Some years he came down the chimney, sometimes the window. He always kept you on your toes never fully knowing where he was going to enter. You weren't sure how a man of such a large size could fit down a chimney but your brain always turned off when he was around. Too dick whipped to think about anything but him and the pleasure he gave you.

Hearing his low growl rumble from behind you, your body trembled in response. He had come through your bedroom window expecting you to be there. Seeing you weren't there made him mad, he wanted his cock in you immediately. Having to wait irritated him. Turning you smiled at him before letting out a gasp when he grabbed you pushing you against the nearest wall. “Fuck.” You moaned out, leaning your head back. He let out a low rumble hearing your moan. The sounds you make when he's with you calmed his raging soul, if only a little bit. Seeing that you were still dressed he growled before ripping off your clothes. His clawed hands tearing your clothes to shreds. You know you should be mad about it but the act had only served to turn you on even more. 

Heart pounding in your chest you reached out to hold onto him as he lifted you up pinning you to the wall with one hand. Your legs dangled, unable to reach the floor by a good foot or two. He effortlessly freed his cock from its restraints with his free hand. Lifting a leg up you rested it on his hip spreading your legs for the large man.

Biting your bottom lip you trembled at his touch as he held your chin. “Open.” He growled in a low voice that rumbled in your chest. Obediently you opened your mouth, lightly sticking your tongue out. His fingers immediately slide into your mouth causing you to close it around them. He hardly ever took the time to lube you up first so this felt special for you. Keeping eye contact with him you made sure to lube up his fingers with your saliva as much as you could before he finally pulled them out of your mouth leaving a trail of saliva from his fingers to your plump lips. The trail broke after a second landing on your chin causing him to let out a low rumble at the sight. 

Lowering his hand to your entrance he pushed the lubed up fingers inside of you causing you to moan. He wanted to take you so much it hurt but he knew you haven't had him in such a long time you would need to be stretched out first. By the end of the month he would be able to slip it in without reliance, but that was then and this was now. He would never admit it to himself or anyone else that he cared deeply about you to the point it scared him. As much as he loved making you scream out in painful pleasure he didn't want to hurt you so badly he scared you off. He needed you more than he realized.

Hearing you moan from just his fingers made him smirk in pride. He loved hearing how well he pleasured you, he wanted to hear more. Spreading his fingers wide he continued to pump them into you faster drawing out more moans from your lips. “O-oh oh fuck keep going! Gonna cum!” You moaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Your words encouraging him to pump his fingers harder. Reaching your orgasm with a cry you clung to his arms closing his eyes. 

You barely had a moment to come down from your orgasm when he slid his fingers out and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Gasping you opened your eyes to be met with his hungry gaze. Letting out a quiet moan you rolled your hips against his taking in more of his cock. He let out a low moan feeling his cock go deeper into you. It drove him mad. Growling he snapped his hips forward pushing all of his cock into you causing you to sob lightly. It stung but felt good at the same time. Whimpering softly you clung to him as tears welled in your eyes. He waited for a moment letting you adjust for a moment before he started to slowly rock his hips. Once your face started showing more pleasure than pain he sped his pace up thrusting faster into you. Pressing against you harder he pushed you against the wall even more making you feel a little squished. “Harder.” You moaned scratching at his arms. It was a request he was more than happy to comply with. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your needy moans and the relentless thrusts of Krampus. It was utter bliss being with him. December was by far your favorite time of the year and Christmas had nothing to do with it. 

[hoomandoescosplay]

Love Language | L Lawliet x Reader Oneshot

I place the cake I just finished making into the fridge to cool for a bit as I hear the doorbell ring. A small hum escapes me as I walk to the front door and look through the peephole. I don’t see anything except for a package on the doormat.

Before I know it a smile forms on my face as I open the door eager to get the package inside. I start walking towards the kitchen but pivot to the living room once I remember the kitchen counters are full of baking supplies.

As I sit down and begin to open the package my smile widens. Inside the package is a black box with a bow. I read the name engraved on the box and my eyes widen, my hand moving even faster now to unbox this gift.

A small gasp leaves my mouth as I see a pair of black chunky Valentino heels. They were beautiful, and exactly my style. Just like how L knows me all too well. I pick up the box and start taking the shoes out, admiring them for another minute before I put them on.

I continue to stare at them with an obnoxious smile on my face for a moment before I look back at the box. Inside a small card is neatly tucked into the corner, signed with a simple, elegant L.

I smile as I pick up the card, my cheeks feeling warmer than before. He was always sending me various gifts and surprises, but never failed to make my heart flutter.

After a few months of dating I quickly came to realize that his love language was gift giving. Whether it was buying me dinner or a small keychain to bigger gifts like this one he would never fail to surprise me.

The gifts weren't the only way I knew how he felt about me. Even though he struggled to express his emotions at times, I learned to read the way his eyes soften when he looks at me, or how his voice is a little quieter when he talks to me.

Most people don’t notice the subtle shift in his behavior but I’ve grown to understand each and every little detail. I place the card back into the box before standing up and making my way to our bedroom to see what the heels look like on in the bathroom mirror.

I stand in front of the mirror, the black heels accentuating my outfit and making my legs look longer than usual. I look at myself with satisfaction, turning a little to see how the shoes looked from different angles. I was already thinking of all the different things I could wear with them. A black leather skirt, a dress, jeans and a nice going out top.

Then a certain piece of clothing that I’ve had shoved in my closet appears in my mind. I could only imagine how L would react to something like that.

I was planning on surprising L with the cake I was preparing for Valentine’s Day but I think this surprise might be an even better one. I search through the draws in my side of the closet and quickly find the lacy black lingerie I got as a white elephant gift when I was still in college.

At the time my friends and I thought it was hilarious. We were so young to the point we thought dressing up in something like this was idiotic and only a thing in movies. I got this in my sophomore year while we all passed around white elephant gifts on Valentine’s Day.

A small laugh escapes me as I remember that day. It honestly wasn’t even that long ago. I met L my senior year and we’ve been dating for four years now so I’ve probably had this set for about five years.

I hold the set in my hands, admiring it for a moment before I start removing my current outfit and putting on the lingerie. It hugs my curves perfectly, the matching set looks absolutely stunning with these heels.

As I look myself over in the mirror I almost want to laugh. I look so different than usual, and yet, I feel really good about myself. Feeling satisfied with the way the set looks on me, I decide to go for a finishing touch. I grab a perfume L always compliments me on, spraying a small amount on my wrists and neck.

After, I walk back out to the kitchen to grab my phone and check the time. I have about fifteen minutes before L should get back home. I take a quick look around the kitchen counters and the living room. That should give me enough time to clean up the place and get prepared.

I quickly clean up the counter and kitchen table, putting things away and throwing out random wrappers. I put away any dirty dishes in the sink and then looked around the living room to make sure everything was in order.

My eyes fall on the box the shoes came in and I pick them up and place them in the bedroom closet so L doesn’t see it when he walks in. Once the last of the clutter was cleared and the kitchen was spotless, I made my way back to the bedroom and waited patiently, my heart beating fast in my chest.

I felt slightly nervous but mostly excited. We had been together for so many years already, and the idea of surprising him like this was thrilling. He’s constantly surprising me so it would be nice to surprise him for once.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap as the minutes tick by on the bedside clock. I reposition myself on the bed multiple times, not really sure what I'm doing, but end up sitting the same way I started off.

After about five more minutes I hear the front door open and my heart starts beating fast again, the anticipation of what I was going to do making me feel a little jittery.

I sit up a bit straighter at the sound of the door. A moment later he calls out, “I’m home” making my smile grow slightly. A warm feeling fills my chest at his words. I try to keep my nervousness in check as I respond. "In the bedroom."

There’s a moment of silence before I hear him begin to walk closer to the door. My heartbeat quickens and I have to resist the urge to fidget with my hands. The footsteps stop and the door pushes open slowly.

I take a deep breath before looking up as the door opens fully, my gaze fixed on L. His eyes immediately land on me, his expression stays neutral but his eyes are roaming over my appearance.

A small smile forms on my face as I extend out one of my legs. “The shoes look good on don’t you think?” L’s gaze drifts down to my legs and the black heels before sweeping back up and he steps inside the room, shutting the door behind him.

“They look perfect.” His usually quiet voice is slightly lower than usual. My smile grows at his reaction. I roll my ankle slightly continuing to show off the heel as I look down at it.

“They’re such a nice gift. I was completely surprised.” I say as I lift my gaze up to stare at him through my lashes. His eyes stay locked on me, his normal serious expression slightly softened as he approaches the bed.

He kneels down and lightly grasps my ankle, running his fingers along the heel of the shoe and lightly tracing the intricate design as his thumb moves along my skin. "I'm glad you like them." His touch is subtle but gentle, sending a shiver through me.

He begins to trail his fingers up my leg, moving along the lace of the set and lightly up my bare thigh. "Though I find myself rather distracted now from the shoes." His voice is still low and his gaze locked on me. “Distracted?” I fake my surprise. “How so?”

"Distracted by you." He answers simply. "More specifically, what you have on." His hand is still on my thigh, lightly gripping the cloth and he starts moving his fingers in lazy circles on my skin.

A shiver goes through my body as I continue to play dumb. “Yes, I have the shoes you bought me on.” He chuckles softly, the sound making my heart flutter.

His hand moves farther up my thigh, tracing the lace with his fingertips. "Yes," he says, "but you know that's not what I'm talking about. This set isn't something I've seen before."

“Oh this little thing?” I say as he continues to trace the lace. “It’s just a small surprise I kept stored away.” L stands up and places one knee on the bed between my legs, the motion pushing my legs open a bit as he leans over me.

He lightly grasps my chin with his hand and angles my face up to look at him. "I'll admit, it's more than a pleasant surprise. You look stunning in this."

My cheeks flush as he tilts my head up. “I’m glad you like it.” I finally responded after a moment. His expression is now a bit more intense, his eyes roaming over my face and then down my body with interest.

He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. "You have no idea how much I like it." His voice is low and slightly rough. “Then why don’t you show me how much you like it.” I respond as I continue to look up at him.

L's hand moves to lightly grip my hip as he slowly pushes me back down onto the bed. He crawls on top of me on the bed, trapping me under him as he looks down at me with that intense expression.

He leans down until his face is inches from mine, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. "Gladly." He practically breathes the word out.

A content sigh escapes my lips as he begins to train kisses down my neck. One of his hands comes up to lightly toy with the strap of the bra set, his fingers trailing over my skin and sending goosebumps across my body.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer into my body. He let out a low groan when my body pressed against his in the new position. His mouth leaves my neck to attach onto my collarbone, lightly biting and sucking on my skin.

I let out a shallow breath as my body shutters from his touch. After giving my collarbone a few more bites, his mouth starts to trail down as he begins peppering kisses along my chest and to the top of my cleavage.

His hand is lightly gripping my hip, holding me in place as he moves his body over mine. He kisses along my shoulder as he hooks a finger under the strap of the bra, slowly pulling it down my shoulder and exposing more of my skin to his view.

In response my back arches up slightly. L takes advantage of this and moves his hand underneath me. In one quick motion he unclasps the bra before pulling it off me and throwing it somewhere across the room.

A small noise escapes from me as the cool air hits my skin that was previously clothed. Well, as clothed as a lacy, mesh bra could be. L's eyes roam over my exposed chest, his gaze slightly hungry and filled with desire as he begins to lightly run his hands over my chest.

"Gorgeous." he breathes out, his voice rough. I arch my back up towards him again, my eyes rolling slightly back just from the sound of his voice.

His hands grip my thighs, holding my body tight against his as he looks down at me with that hungry gaze. "You have no idea what you're doing to me." he groans as he leans down to kiss my stomach.

One of my hands goes to rest on his head making his lips press down harder on my stomach with each kiss. He's kissing his way down my stomach, his lips warm and making my skin tingle as he kisses my skin, occasionally giving a light bite to make me gasp.

His hands are roaming over my thighs, holding them tightly as he moves his body down the bed and positions himself between my legs. His hands slide up to my hips, gripping tightly and he starts leaving a trail of kisses along the very tops of my inner thighs.

He's taking his time, just like he always does, and it's driving me crazy. His tongue darts out before lightly licking up my inner thigh, the action making my breath catch in my throat.

He looks up at me with an innocent look on his face. "Something wrong?" He says it so nonchalantly but the smirk on his face gives away the teasing tone.

“Yeah.” I say breathlessly. “These are still on.” L's fingers lightly pull the lacy edge of my panties away from my skin before he lets it snap back into place. "Seems like you're right." He says, his voice low.

“Then take them off.” My voice has a slight tinge of desperation to it, making him chuckle lowly. He smirks at my words, his eyes roaming over my body as he seems to take in the view.

He then hooks his fingers in the waistband of the panties and begins to slowly slide them down my legs. After they’re completely off and thrown somewhere in the room his hand goes to grab one of my legs.

L places the bottom of the heel up against his chest as his fingers lightly trace my leg. "You're quite the sight like this. It would be a shame to take these off."

I sit up slightly on my forearms as I stare at him with my heel on his chest for a moment. “Who said the heels had to come off?” He pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering up to meet mine before a smirk forms on his face. "Not a bad idea."

He suddenly grabs my ankle and lifts my leg up, pressing his lips to the underside of my foot and trailing kisses down my leg. I sharply inhale at the feeling, laying back down.

He takes his time with my legs, kissing and biting on my skin gently, continuing down my leg and ending at my ankle where the heel remains. He begins to lightly circle his fingers around the ankle and looks up at me through his lashes with a smirk.

I met his gaze as I let out a satisfied sigh. “Shirt off.” I say as I point towards him. L chuckles softly before leaning back on his knees, still between my legs, and tugs his shirt off his body and throws it onto the floor.

"Better?" He asks with a slight grin. I shake my head as I point lower. “You’ve got me all undressed but not yourself.” He places a hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze as his eyes wander over my body and he lets out a low chuckle.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Someone's impatient." I huff which just further proves he’s right. “Stop teasing me.” I whine making him grin. "Teasing you is fun though." He says before leaning down over me and braces himself above me with his arms on either side of shoulders.

He leans down to my ear and speaks in a low voice. "Besides, can you really say that you don't enjoy the anticipation?" I shudder once more as my hand travels down to unbuckle his belt.

His breathing hitches slightly as I touch his belt, the metal buckle making a slight jingling sound as my hands fumble with it. He leans down and lightly begins kissing along my neck again, his body pressed close to mine.

My hands continue to fidget with his belt until I get it off. He lets out a low groan against my neck, his breath hot against my skin as my fingers fumble to pull his jeans off. His fingers toy and tease across my stomach and waist, his touch making me shiver.

After a moment he chuckles and removes his jeans and boxers, tossing them on the floor with the rest of our clothes. Now that the last pieces of clothing are gone he wastes no time in pressing his body right up against mine, his skin warm and touching every inch of mine.

He grabs one of my legs and hooks it over his hip, using the new angle to kiss my neck and the top of my chest. My hands go to wrap back around his neck, my nails digging slightly into his back.

He lets out a low groan as my nails scratch at his skin, the sound reverberating through my body. His hand trails down to his length as he begins to line it up with my entrance.

I bite my lip as I try to suppress my moan from the sensation. L leans down and whispers in my ear, his voice low and rough. “There’s no need to hold back.” As he says this he pushes his full length into me causing me to moan out in response.

We’re both still for a moment as he lets me adjust. When I’m ready I give him a nod and he begins to pull almost all the at out before pushing all the way back in.

His movements are slow and deliberate at first, but soon pick up the pace. He grips my hips as he leans down and starts to kiss me passionately. L’s tongue explores my mouth, tangling with mine as he continues to thrust into me.

I dig my nails deeper into his back as he grips onto my hip thigh tighter. As he breaks off the kiss he uses my thigh to angle my hips up higher, penetrating deeper into me.

My eyes roll back as he groans out in pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.” He grunts out. I barely register his words as my body is on fire from pleasure.

He continues to thrust into me with a continuous rhythm, moans escaping me from time to time. In one swift motion he completely pulls out of me, making me whine.

As soon as he pulls out he flips me onto my stomach. Grabbing my hips and pulling me up onto my knees, so my ass is in the air and my heels are digging into the mattress. He admires the view for a moment before lining himself back up and sinking into me with a grunt.

I grip the sheets with my hands as another wave of pleasure washes over me. Not long after he picks up the pace using the grip he has on my hips to pull me back into him harder.

“L… fuck.” I whimper out as I feel close to release. "That's it... almost there." He tightens his grip and changes the angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside me with each thrust. His panting becomes heavier as he feels himself getting closer as well.

After a few more thrusts I come undone, gripping the sheets tighter as my body slightly shakes from my climax. As he feels me tremble around him, L comes undone as well.

He buries his face between my shoulders and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me back onto him even harder and deeper as he finds his own release. We both stay in that position for what feels like forever as we try to recollect ourselves.

Eventually we find our way under the covers, intertwining our limbs together as my head rests on L’s chest. My heels are still on but they somehow don’t get in the way.

I feel him place a gentle kiss on top of my head making me smile and nuzzle into him more. As I begin to drift off I hear him murmur, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” I let out a sleepy hum in response.

My thoughts slowly start to fade as I sink further into his warm embrace. The last thing I feel before falling asleep is his hand running through my hair in a comforting gesture.

[powerfultenderness]

okokokok I know I've been writing a lot of nasty no good Soap lately. So here's a cute little snippet of Soap trying to be sly and get a kiss out of Pretend Girlfriend!Reader (and the fake dating was her idea/request).

Honestly, this whole time Johnny has been nothing but a gentleman. You're sure sleeping with him-beside him!- will be fine, nothing to be uncomfortable about, you're both adults and things have been very clear. Convinced of that, you drop your phone on the nightstand to your side and reach over to turn off the lamp.

Johnny does the same, but hesitates before turning off the light.

"I think there's one thing we forgot, doll."

You pause mid shuffle and look at him, "hm? What?"

"Well, weddin's are romantic."

"Yea..?" you blink at him and sit back up.

"And when couples are feelin' romantic, they kiss."

Even as your face heats up, you let out a scoffed laugh as grins at you. His eyes are practically glowing as he wiggles his brows. "Ye don' wan the first time we kiss to be in front of yer family. We should definitely practice."

You laugh again, this time clearly nervous, but tap your chin in thought. "You do have a point..." You draw out as you think. You'd be lying if you said a spontaneous kiss from him wouldn't leave you flustered, not at all what the reaction from someone who has supposedly been dating for six months should be.

"Alright," you say and motion for him to fully face you.

His grin loses some of it's smugness as he leans in, one hand moving to gently cradle the side of your face as the distance between you shrinks. "Don' worry, I'll be-"

He doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence as you move faster than him. You quickly press your lips to the side of his face and with extra emphasis make a loud "MUAH!" sound.

Johnny stills, hand stuck in the air with a confused, stupefied, look on his face as you giggle at him.

"Is THAT how ya kiss yer man?!"

Now your giggles are a full blown laugh. "I have never once made out with a partner in front of my family! They'd instantly catch on if I started tomorrow!"

"Really?" He doesn't push for another kiss and even he is chuckling at the way you turned it on him. "Never even snuck out to be alone in some back room or somethin'?"

"Nope." You shuffle back under the blankets. "Now get some sleep, Johnny. I need you to charm some aunties into leaving me alone tomorrow."

He lets out one more chuckle before he turns off his bedside lamp, "alrigh'. Goodnigh, hen."

[jooyeonsvape]

— stickers (k.j)

genre; fluff, smut

pairings; idol!jiseok, female!reader

w/c; 2.3k

synopsis; at your first xdinary heroes fan meeting, you ask jiseok a question that stunned him and you leave feeling embarrassed.

a/n; this is a request from my bestie @sug4r-latte i love you sm my angel!! sorry it took so long, also its 5:30 am so if its not what you asked for, let me know and i can rewrite it tomorrow!! <33333

[ masterlists ]

after all the money and time you’ve spent on your favorite band, you were finally in line at their fan meeting.

jiseok was talking with a fan but your eyes never left him, “wait, what should i even say to him?” you turn to your best friend, who was next to you. “introduce yourself, tell him you love him, show him your drawings, and move to the next member.”

you take a deep breath then nod, walking forward as the line moves, and side eyeing jiseok while you’re speaking to jungsu.

finally the moment you’ve waited for, the love of your life infront of you, face to face. “hi pretty, do you have anything for me to sign?”

everything your friend told you went out the window while you just stare in his eyes and the anxiety takes over.

“can i put stickers on you, bite you and then kiss your face? please say yes.”

jiseok’s face said it all. he was suddenly stunned by your questioning and you knew your words moved faster than your brain could when jooyeon started giggling next to him.

“uh, you can put stickers on me, but i think the security guards will kick you out if you did the other things.” he leans in with his signature laugh, holding out his cheek so you can put your stickers on him.

your hands shake as you peel the stickers off, then place the pretty pink ones on his cheek, and a few glittery ones around his eyes.

he signs the drawing you made while he waits for you to finish then a guard signals for you to move down the line.

——

“will you stop sulking, it wasn’t as bad as you think, plus, i think he found you adorable.” your friend tried to make you feel better while you take another shot of whatever the bartender gave you, but at this point her words meant nothing.

“he was probably uncomfortable, i am so embarrassing.” you take the shot and make a face, looking over at your friend who gave up her speeches.

the worst part about everything is, it was videoed by another fan and villians on twitter are making fun of you. “i’m confiscating this,” she grabs your phone from your hand while you scroll through the hate tweets and tear up.

“is that xdinary heroes?” the voice came from someone at a table and your eyes shot to the door, seeing the members walking inside. “fuck.” you whisper softly to yourself and hide your face, “why are they here?”

your friend analyzes from afar, “they’re getting in a booth and looking at the menu, no one can see you, lift your head now.” you open one eye and slowly look up, peeking over nonchalantly. “they’re so beautiful, and jiseok still has my stickers on, aww.”

——

30 minutes in, you peek over again to see the boys eating while having a drink together, and your heart flutters at their cuteness.

jiseok walked to the bar you were and your friend were at without either of you noticing. “hey, we just met right? i’m jiseok.” he had a bright smile and the shot you just took almost spit out of your mouth.

“y-yeah, i know, i’m [Y/N]. sorry, i have word vomit when i get anxious, i didnt mean to make you uncomfortable or anything earlier.” the alcohol helped you articulate your feelings better to jiseok but he just shakes his head. “you didn’t, i thought it was cute, i even took a picture with my stickers on, see.”

he points his phone to the adorable selfie he took moments after you placed them on his face and your heart flutters again.

“6 shots of vodka please.” jiseok told the bartender, but when he got his wallet out your friend shakes her head, “put it on our tab.”

he grabs the tray with the shots and you give him a warm smile, too embarrassed to say anything incase you mess up again.

“do you two want to come to a party we’re hosting at our hotel? it’s not going to be a lot of people but, it’ll be fun hopefully.”

“yes, we’d love to come, which hotel will you be at?” your friend giggles to herself at you trying to be sly, considering both of you knew exactly where they were staying.

he grabs a napkin next to you, then writes down the address and which room they’re staying in. “this floor is closed off so give me a call when you are downstairs.” he writes down a number at the bottom and you nod fastly.

you look at your friend when jiseok leaves and grab her hand, “we cannot go looking like this, let’s go get ready.”

——

“hi, this is [Y/N], we’re downstairs now.”

after you sent the text, you felt your heart pounding out of your chest due to anxiety. “i can’t believe how this night is turning out… what if i get to kiss hyeongjun?” you nudge your friend but she just laughs, “hey, it’s not impossible with the way our luck is going.”

you shush her when jiseok comes jogging up with the stickers still on his face and a bright smile, “you made it, come on up.”

he leads the two of you upstairs where the other members are and a few of their staff. “i told you there wouldn’t be a lot of people, we’re not much of partygoers besides with ourselves.”

you wanted to ask why he invited the both of you if it was just going to be a guys night in, but instead you kept your mouth shut.

“we’re playing drinking games, want to join?” you shake your head at gunil’s offer and laugh, “i had plenty, i’ll stick with water.

you introduce yourself to the boys after taking a seat next to jiseok and the 8 of you begin playing games.

after the 5th round of jooyeon losing and taking a shot each time, he went from dazed to incoherent.

you were all laughing at his and seungmin’s freestyle performance to ‘night of fireworks’ when his foot slipped.

your mouth opened wide as you see the drink in his cup coming at you in slow motion and jiseok jumps up fast when he sees the liquid covering your clothes.

the bright pink bra you were wearing showed clearly but everyone was too drunk to notice and jiseok grabbed your hand. “i’ll get you something to wear.”

you follow him with tears in your eyes, “i’m sorry, it’s been nothing but embarrassment since we met, i’m going to leave before something else happens.” you were now crying while jiseok goes through his suitcase and picks a shirt for you.

“i don’t think you should leave over spilled vodka.” he simply states and you sniffle, grabbing the shirt, “thank you.”

jiseok wipes your tears then smiles, “your smile is addictive.” he blushes at your words and shakes his head, “i’m going to wait outside while you change.”

you take a deep breath and feel your hands start to shake as you talk, “c-can you stay in here with me?”

his eyebrow furrows and shrugs, “sure, i’ll just turn away.” he faces the wall while you get undressed and you clear your throat. “i’m done.”

jiseok turns around and his smile drops immediately, “wow.” was all he could get out when he sees you standing tall in only your underwear.

“i like you.” you mumble and walk towards him, “i can’t help but think you’re interested in me too, considering you invited me here.”

jiseok nods and rubs the back of his neck gently, “yeah, you stood out in my mind from your bluntness and beauty.”

you rub your thumb over the stickers you put on his face earlier and smile, “i’m surprised they’ve stayed on this long.”

he closes his eyes at the feeling of your hand and blushes, “actually, i asked the makeup artist to glue them on for me.”

“can i kiss you jiseok?”

instead of answering he grabs your waist in his hands then pulls you into his chest, and kisses your lips.

the kiss was more than you were expecting, his lips were soft and his hands knew where to roam on your body, making your skin fill with goosebumps.

“do you want to see my bed?” he asks in the kiss and you giggle, “i would love to.”

jiseok leads the both of you to his bed and lays you down on the pillows while he continues to kiss you. “are you sure this is okay?” you nod at his question and bite your bottom lip. “i’m sure.”

when he gets conformation, he takes off his shirt and you admire his toned abdomen. “you’re gorgeous.” you whisper soft and he chuckles, “have you seen yourself?”

jiseok presses his clothed dick against you through your underwear and your breath hitches at the feeling.

“remember when you asked to bite me and i said the security guards would kick you out if you did?” he chuckles at the embarrassing memory and you nod, “yes.”

“there’s no security here, you can do whatever you want to me now.”

you blush at his words and lean in, giving his neck a soft nibble while he continues to grind against your pussy. “bite harder.”

you listen to his command then bite down hard on his shoulder and go up to his neck. “that feels so good.” you whisper in his ear and bite down on the lobe.

he takes off his pants with one hand skillfully while still grinding and pants soft. “kiss my neck pretty.”

you blush at the name and do as he says, swirling your tongue around his neck before biting down again until his pants were completely off.

“can you ride me?”

you flip the both of you over and smirk, kissing his lips again, seeing the stickers on his face shimmer in the moonlight when you take your bra off.

“this is gonna have to be quick incase anyone comes in, but i will make it up to you next time.” jiseok mumbles while circling his thumb around your nipple.

next time?

you slide off his boxers with a smirk when his hard dick pops out and jerk it teasingly in your hand. “alright, i’ll make you cum quick.”

jiseok chuckles and watches as you slide your panties to the side before sinking down on his cock. “fuck.” you tried to not be loud but with his size, it was hard. “no moaning.” you whisper in his ear and kiss his neck again.

“no promises baby.”

you grab his hands then place them on your breasts while your hips move in a slow motion and bury your face in his neck so you didnt moan.

“go faster.”

you whine in his neck and bite down hard on his skin again while your bounces get faster. jiseoks dick hits against your walls with every bounce and when he plays with your nipples, you couldn’t help but moan loud.

he puts a hand over your mouth and left you with just shallow breaths through your nose while you bounce faster. “i’m going to fuck you hard now, but you can’t make a noise okay?” jiseok whispers and you whine as a response.

he flips you over on your stomach and pounds you from behind without any hesitation, making sure to bury your face in his pillow. “good girl.”

you let out a moan and you feel a sharp pain on your ass from his hand but it felt so good. you moan again to test him and he strikes you with a chuckle. “you’re cute.”

jiseok rubs the place he smacked and groans soft, “i’m close [Y/N].”

you agreed by pushing your ass against his thrusts and your hand grips the bedsheet next to you. “me too jiseok, keep going.”

the sound of the bed squeaking was surely heard by the others in the living area, but you didn’t care anymore. “i’m so close, please cum in me.”

jiseok groans at your words and reaches his arm around, rubbing your clit slowly. “let’s cum together baby.”

you nod and he snaps his hips sloppier, indicating he was about to burst. “i’m cumming [Y/N], fuck.”

his voice being low sounded so sexy and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. your walls clenched around his dick and the both of you reach your orgasm at the same time.

his cum shot deep inside of your pussy and he falls ontop of you with a panting moan. “shit….” he murmers when you push your ass against his sensitive dick and laugh to yourself.

“that was amazing [Y/N], really.”

you blush and turn around so he was laying on your front, “it was, i can’t wait to do it again, i could go for hours.”

jiseok leans down and kisses your lips softly, “oh i forgot, i got something after the fan meet.” he stands from the bed and walks to a plastic bag on the dresser then goes to the bed with something in his hand.

you sit up on the bed and he hands you the paper, “stickers?” he nods and chuckles, “i thought they were cute, i was gonna wear them at the next concert.”

you bite your bottom lip from his adorableness and wrap your arms around his neck, “you’re so sweet, this made me feel a lot better.”

jiseok kisses the side of your head and smiles, “can i put them on you so we can match?” you nod and lean in, waiting for the stickers to be placed on your face.

——

gunil knocks on the door to jiseok and his shared room, peeking in. “hello? can i come in?” when he didn’t hear anything, he walks to the bed then sees you both covered in stickers, and passed out while cuddling close.

“kids.” he jokes to himself.