#today i crave chaos

[prosekapolls]

Character Cameo Tournament 4.6

Sooo...

My original plan was to have the winners of 3.11, 3.12 and 3.13 face off...

But you guys made 3.12 tie so I'm making it everyone's problem :)

Only one will move one. Good luck!

[mercuriallily]

Behold, a (nearly complete) Mungo!! Featuring my own warmers and wonderfully fluffy tail!

Bonus:

[minacht]

the various (mis)adventures of a certain paladin

[bloodbathfortwo]

What does everyone think of Nigel Forbes-Colbie ever getting pregnant? It doesn't matter how you interpret it: Omegaverse, males can get pregnant Au, Trans! Nigel. Just tell me your guys' headcanons of Nigel's pregnancy: The changes, the hardships, the softness, and the vulnerabilities.

[gonguji]

do you ever just wake up && choose violence??

[donotthecatunlessthecatconsents]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[harmonizewithechoes]

.

[munsster]

fixer upper

A/N: IM ACTUALLY SO EMBARASSED TO ADMIT THIS IS BASED ON ‘FIXER UPPER’ FROM FROZEN 💀💀💀 does that mean it counts as a song fic…….. (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: The kids aren’t saying you can change him, per se. They’re only saying that love’s a force that’s powerful and strange. 2.8k words

Warnings: fluff, babygirl steve, cursing, mentions of toxic (?) relationship, hopeless pining, pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting

Steve can barely see through his rose-tinted daydream, but he's sure he recognizes your smile as soon as you enter the food court. And you lead a trail of whiny teenagers right to his register. This is the fourth time this week you've heard about Steve's lusturous hair and dazzling eyes. You have to hand it to them, they're not bad salesmen, just a tad young to elicit ethos. What the hell do they know about love anyway.

That's what happens when you're licensed and free on a Friday afternoon: babysitting duty. Now, in the event that Steve had been the one saddled with the party on his day off, he would've argued that they're not really babies and they should be self-sufficient. Knowing Dustin, however, this argument proves to be false almost every time.

But it wasn't Steve, it was you. Steve doesn't think he's heard you complain about one thing in your life.

Not even your deadbeat boyfriend called Brad. Who, as Dustin and Max and Robin love to remind him, is utterly replaceable and on thin ice every other week. Steve knows better than to get his hopes up after three months of having them crushed, though. He's learned to live with the strong sense of yearning he feels whenever you're within thirty feet of him.

Take now, for example: you're coralling half a dozen brats into a somewhat single-file line without even having to raise your voice. He should think it's impressive, but he's too distracted by your lip gloss and your voice and the way you did your hair today.

"I hope you give discounts to distressed young women," you tease, brows knitting when you look up at him. This is the part where he's supposed to respond with something charming. Sexy and charismatic, maybe.

"Oh, uh," he chuckles, "No, I mean, yeah. Sure"—Oh, but you smile at him and all that pent up charisma flies out the neon-framed sliding doors. They chatter out their orders at lightning speed, and he can barely catch half of what they're saying when you look at him like that. You finally make it to the register and pay half price. And your cone is always on the house, of course.

"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Max says unenthusiastically. Lucas elbows her side before retreating with Dustin.

"He's also a great driver!" Will chirps, shuffling away to one of the booths with Mike and El who giggle the whole way there. You turn back to Steve who stares off at them incredulously.

"You see what I have to deal with?" you say with some degree of affection for the chaos.

"Aw, come on," Steve says, tilting his head with a shrug, "you love it."

"I think they keep forgetting I already have a boyfriend."

Not much of a boyfriend if you ask me, he thinks.

But what he says: "Ah, yes. The elusive Brad."

You roll your eyes and grin at him. You know Steve has a crush on you. Or else the kids and Robin wouldn't be so adamant on marketing him to you. It's sweet, really. And honestly, you don't think Steve's unfit to play boyfriend or anything, but you're also not disloyal.

Your scoop melts down the side of the cone between your fingers. Steve nearly hurls himself across the counter handing you a thick stack of napkins.

"Shit, thanks," you huff, lapping at the stream of sticky ice cream. His stomach churns as his face screws into a sickly smile.

"Yeah. No problem."

"No, really"—you wrap a napkin around the cone, shoving the rest into your pocket—"I don't know what I'd do if I had to pay the entire bill everytime one of them had a craving."

"Really, it's not a problem," he shrugs it off like it doesn't come out of his paycheck. "I like helping out pretty girls when I can."

You giggle and tilt your head. "Steve Harrington, you're my hero."

He's almost embarassed at how fast his face flushes red hot and frantic. He reaches for the back of his neck on impulse, and any attempt he makes at seeming suave is foiled by Robin patting him on the shoulder.

"If you think that's heroic, there was this one time he singlehandedly saved Hawkins with this sick baseball bat with nails—"

He huffs, "Robin—"

"No, seriously! Don't be so modest, Steve, you're selling yourself short!"

"I'm not trying to sell myself at all!" he says, turning her around and guiding her towards the door to the back room.

"Great seeing you!" she hollers over her shoulder just before disappearing behind the swinging door. You wave with a chuckle. Steve tuts, fixing his sailor hat and shaking his head.

"Did you really do all that? Save Hawkins, I mean?" you ask. And you seem genuinely interested which is why it guts him. The one girl who actually gives a shit is coincidentally unavailable.

"Yeah," he says, shrugging, "but only to clear my conscience. It's like penance, or whatever."

You giggle, not sure if he's being truthful or playing it off. He meets your eyes and he's sure his heart stops dead in his chest for a beat. Nobody pulls off mall lighting like you.

The kids come skipping back to the counter, declaring they've all got different wants and needs around the mall for the next few hours.

"Okay, hold on, I promised I'd have you guys back before my date," you say, Steve overseeing the conversation from over your shoulder.

"Well," he interjects, "when's your date?" All the attention shifts to Steve, and he suddenly wishes he could swallow up the words and take them back for good.

"Two hours from now. Across town," you say, looking a little guilty knowing he's about to make the kindest offer of the year.

"I'm off at five, so I can just"—stop talking—"take them home after my shift."

"Steve, really, you don't have to—"

El grins, eyes wide as she whispers in Max's ear.

Steve shakes his head, "Sweetheart, believe me, I want to. Besides, you've already been through enough with the rascals. Go have fun."

You turn to the kids, almost pleading with them to accept Steve's generosity.

"Is that okay with you guys? I don't wanna leave you stranded," you admit.

They nod in agreement, throwing out a couple yes's and sure's. They're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, but you still feel bad dumping them on Steve like this.

Dustin interrupts: "This really just goes to show how Steve is a great candidate for marriage and other domestic relations. He can be odd at times and he might care too much about his hair, but you can tell by his actions that he would be a very reliable husband, a generous life partner, and—"

"And a great friend," you giggle, trying not to let Dustin get too carried away. You have sat through enough of his speeches for one day. "Now, quit trying to set us up!"

Steve rolls his eyes at the boy. "Seriously, at least wait 'til she's single. Then she can reject me for me."

You whip back to face him with a sour look on your face.

"Steven! That's not—that's rude to yourself," you huff, "Say three nice things."

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at you.

"You're pretty, I like your shoes, and you smell nice."

"About you!"

"Ohh," he feigns surprise, "No." But you reach across the counter to whack him on the arm with a shocking amount of force. The kids chuckle from behind you. Steve can't help but smile when you raise your brows proudly. "Fine! I am deserving of love, I am great company, and my hair looks particularly shiny today."

"Good," you nod, "I agree. And I have to go, see ya!"

"With which one?" he says, watching you jog out of the store waving. "Wait! Sweetheart? Agree with which one??"

Steve sighs sharply, hands perched decidedly on his hips as his gaze falls flat on the militia of pre teens staring him down.

"What do you want?" he says.

"You're hopeless," Max says, mouth pressed in a hard line before she wanders off, arm-in-arm with El.

"Yeah, dude. And kinda desperate," Mike shrugs.

"Hey," he grumbles. Who knew such harsh words could come from such little humans. You'd think they'd be harmless at this age. You'd be wrong. 

"You're a total virgin," Dustin says, very matter-of-factly.

Steve cocks a brow, honestly trying not to laugh at the severity of Dustin's demeanor when he says it. "I don't even think you know what that means."

Dustin blinks. "Well, I think you haven't had sex in long enough that you qualify as one."

"Shit."

...

Much to Steve’s surprise, it only takes butthead Brad two more weeks to absolutely shatter your heart. No one knows the complete details other than it happened at a frat party and you had to walk back to the dorms alone. But Steve doesn’t need complete details to know he wants to shatter Brad’s jaw with his fist.

But he also vowed to use means other than violence to get his point across. He should be awarded for the amount of restraint it took to see your bloodshot eyes and not speed immediately off towards Asshole University like a Brad-seeking atomic missile.

Of course, he’s thankful you felt comfortable enough to call him. In fact, he was the first one you rang. And he knows this fact because you told him while you were sniffling away tears a week and a half after the break up.

Now, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his beemer, curled into your sweater, and listening to late night soft rock radio while he focuses on the dark highway ahead of him. You hadn’t wanted to do anything else but sit in his car and think. His heart clenches everytime you wipe away a tear with your soggy sleeve.

He pulls off the highway during an ad break, finding a secluded diner surrounded by nothing but trees and gas stations. He pulls into a parking spot near the back of the lot where the overhead lights aren’t blinding, but you aren’t completely in the dark. He leaves the car on so the cold doesn’t seep in, engine still purring softly from under the hood.

“Who needs ‘em,” he says in attempt to lighten the mood. “Being single is way cooler. Take it from me. You get a bed all to yourself and you can fart whenever you want.”

You’re frowning, but you know he means well. You just can’t help the fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh, come here,” he whispers, leaning over the center console and dipping his hands over your shoulder and around your waist. His arms feel so strong and so warm where they envelop you entirely. Steve always was the best hug you ever receieved.

You can’t help but chuckle wetly into his collar after a moment.

“God, he was such an asshole, wasn’t he?”

“Uh, duh! Doesn’t take a genius to…” Steve laughs, pausing and brushing the hair away from your damp cheeks. “I know, sweetheart, and you deserve heaps better. You were always way too cool for that loser.”

You blink up at him in the low light. There’s a kind of twinkle in your eye that makes the tips of his ears hot. This time, you reach for him, weaving your arms beneath his jacket with a deep sigh. Your breathing slows against his neck, and he rubs your back while your arms tighten a little around his waist.

He can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking whenever you look at him with your doe eyes, seemingly sweet and far too inquisitive. He knows you’re probably just looking, maybe thinking of something else. But the hopeless romantic in him rattles his rib cage and shouts you might actually consider him this time.

“Wanna go get shakes? On me,” he whispers. You sniffle, wiping your aching nose on the cuff of your sleeve.

“I can pay for myself,” you tease, popping open the car door when he cuts the engine.

“Nope! Sorry, I don’t let girls pay, remember? Super sexist, I know. Plus the whole pretty privilege thing. Honestly, I should just be paying you at this point,” he says, hooking his arm around your back and feeling yours reach for his shoulder as you march towards the diner.

“I agree, rich boy,” you chuckle, “Reparations are in order for wrongdoings on behalf of your sex.”

He chuckles. He’s absolutely head over heels.

The waitress seats you at a cozy booth in the corner and makes a casual comment about the cute couple, asking how long you two have been together. Steve flounders at the question, flustered and pink in the face.

“Oh, we’re actually… not together,” you say, laughing awkwardly when she pouts and, again, remarks on how cute you’d be together. You order shakes for the both of you before perching your chin in your hand. Steve’s still reeling when the waitress walks away.

“Funny. We can’t even escape the third-degree from complete strangers,” you tease, winking at him from just a few feet away. Jesus, he’d think you were trying to kill him if you didn’t seem so lighthearted and playful.

“Yeah, pretty funny,” he sighs. And he’s probably being so obvious. Or maybe that’s how he is all of the time, so his heart eyes seem subtle. Or it’s obvious all of the time.

The waitress slides the shakes in front of you, and the bright red cherries sink further into the whipped cream.

“You know,” you murmur between sips, “I always thought you were pretty cute.”

He nearly chokes on his mouthful of chocolate malt, clearing his throat and trying not to crumble in on himself.

“Oh. Yeah, I get that a lot,” he huffs, “Mostly from little old ladies, but—Hey!”

You flick him and say, “Really! I know it’s not couth considering… Brad and all, but…”

“You’re being facetious,” Steve accuses.

“No—”

“Sarcastic!”

“Steve—”

“Ironic?”

“Try serious!” you hum, “I’m just saying, you’re very handsome. I was shocked to learn you were single when we first met.”

Steve’s blushing and puffing trying to maintain eye contact.

“What can I say? I’m just,” he huffs, “I’m not really worried about it.”

You tilt your head. “You’re not?”

“Nah. I know the right girl will find me in the end. Even if it takes a while. I don’t mind waiting for the right one.”

You settle back in the padded seat, wincing when it squeals beneath you. It makes you feel a little dejected, but you suppose he’s right. Especially because he seems so confident. So sure. It’s admirable. You want to be that sure of soulmates and love and the future.

“I feel the same way,” you whisper. He finishes off the rest of his glass with a smile.

“Though, it doesn’t exactly help having a bunch of little shitheads telling you to go get laid all the time,” he laughs.

“Oh, yeah, tell me about it” you lean in, “Just break up with him, steve is so much nicer. Dump that loser. Steve has a big crush on you.”

“They said that?” Steve’s not dumb, he’s sure you know by now, but he thought it was all conjecture. They will be hearing about this next time they want free ice cream.

“Yeah, that was like their main point. But I know with all the love in my heart they’re all full of shit.”

You shrug, and he chuckles dryly. He can’t decide whether you knowing is for better or for worse.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Steve drives you home. You fall asleep in the car, and he keeps the radio low so as not to wake you. By the time he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t care about the time or the fact that he lives far. He does, however, care about the way you smile lazily and peck his cheek in thanks.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He says it but he wants to tell you what he’s feeling. He wants to ask if you’re over Brad. He knows you’re not and that’s okay, but he wants to ask if he can hold your hand to keep it warm. He wants to ask what kind of flowers you like and if it would be okay for him to drop them off on your doorstep tomorrow. He has so much he wants to say and do, but he doesn’t want to suffocate you.

He doesn’t know that you wouldn’t mind him asking.

more like this

masterlist

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ STRESS RELIEF!

♰ featuring: wriothesley [genshin impact]

♰ note: i’m in heat and all i can think about is a stressed and tired wriothesley eating out his pretty gf from the back to relieve his tension.

sypnosis: get you a man who will drown in your pussy and call it “stress relief”! wc: 2.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. femme/female bodied!reader. messy pussy-eating. dominant/feral!wriothesley. marking. biting. spanking. squirting. cursing. hand-holding. groping. hair pulling. ꒷꒦

It was almost as though Wriothesley was being crushed under the constant pressure of his job as the warden within the shadowy confines of the Fortress of Meropide. The burden of his obligations bore down on him like the merciless force of the sea that imprisoned them all within the stronghold. When a problem arose or strife broke out among the prisoners, he was the one they all turned to for help. Today, on the other hand, appeared to be the day that he would be pushed to his breaking point. There was a mountain of paperwork that was piled high on top of his desk and seemed to never end; the pipes seemed to trickle and leak indefinitely, necessitating constant repair; the elevators are out of commission for maintenance, forcing everyone to use the forgotten, decrepit, and mildew-smelling stairwell; and, to top it all off, there is a 'Credit Coupon' thief swiping people's credits beneath their noses. And, not to mention, he had been so backed up with dealing with everyone else’s problems that he had already missed his afternoon tea.

Anyone near could feel the ominous aura radiating off of the iron doors of his office.

Though, amidst the chaos and tension, one beacon of solace shone through—you. His light in the darkness. The one thing keeping him sane.

Your warm smile and unwavering support were the calming forces that held the key to unlocking his cold heart. He craved the comforting words you spoke, the softness of your touch, and the calm you provided amidst the chaos of everyday life. You turned into a haven for him—a haven from the relentless pressure that felt like it would swallow him.

Which is exactly why you weren’t surprised when a guard came to you while you were aiding Sigewinne with a patient, informing you that the Duke requested your presence in his office immediately. Lunch was usually shared by the two of you, but you expected that he would be too overwhelmed with work to remember to eat, let alone take a break, given everything he has been going through. The two guards outside his office gave you a pitying glance as you got closer, understanding that things were not good. Nevertheless, they let you cross the bridge and into his office. You went in, and the first thing you saw was Wriothesley sitting on the bottom two steps, as if he were waiting for you. You noticed that his tie was unkempt, his jacket was completely abandoned, and his hair had a disheveled tousle that suggested he had either been tugging or running his hands through it for at least a while. That, and it was impossible to ignore the worn-out look in his faded hues.

But as soon as your eyes met, his worn-out expression changed to something strange but familiar—something you had seen on many sultry nights spent by yourself with him in the past. His eyes were fixed on you, freezing you in place with an indisputable lust, a carnal hunger, and a burning desire. Pushing himself up from the steps, he moved toward you with calculated, deliberate steps, each one more heavy than the last, like a beast cornering its prey, his heavy steel boots clinking against the copper floors. Soon, he was towering over you, hands twitching at his sides as though he were refraining from tearing you apart where you stood.

“You look good.” You blurted, swallowing thickly in your throat, as you were cornered against the heavy steel of his office’s door.

He chuckled, throaty and sultry, as his hand met your waist, the other one coming to rest it’s forearm above your head as he caged you between the door and his muscular frame, “Yeah?”

His casual drawl had your knees going weak, threatening to buckle beneath you while his thumb rubbed slow, salacious circles into your hip. “I think I’ve been better.”

You shrugged nonchalantly with an indifferent hum, raising your hands to trail absentminedly over his large chest that bulged through his dress shirt, finally coming to toy with his tie. “Mhm. You missed lunch today, you know.”

“Did I?” His voice was husky—deep, the subtle rumble of his baritone voice going straight to your core causing your thighs to squeeze against one another—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Wriothesley, who’s palms grew hungry on you, manuvering behind you to grope thick handfuls of your rear shamelessly. “I’ve been so swamped with work that it must’ve slipped my mind. But . . . I’m sure you understand, right, baby?” His arm that was poised above your head lowered, his partially gloved thumb stroking at the supple flesh of your cheek. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you, yeah? . . . I have an idea that will make us both happy.”

You had an idea as to what he was alluding to, but nonetheless, you nodded with a hum of agreement. This made Wriothesley smirk in response, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so that he may lean in and press a kiss to your temple.

“Turn around.”

His dominant undertone left little room for argument as you did what he asked, turning around so that you were facing the metal door of his office. Without another moment's hesitation, you felt yourself pushed against it, your body pinned against Wriothesley's heated form with your cheek smushed against the cold metal face of the door. His body pressed firmly against yours, and you felt something unmistakable grinding into your ass, all the while his sharp canines drug themselves up your neck, a silent warning to stay put.

And you did.

Hot, sloppy kisses trailed themselves down the back of your neck as greedy palms groped and squeezed at your body wherever they could reach—almost as though they were attempting to alleviate tension with every heated touch. Sensing his descent, you eventually heard him drop to his knees behind you, his gloved hands reaching up to lift your skirt and turn it over to expose your plump, pliant rear. A growl, something animalistic and ravenous, came from the back of his throat, and one of those large palms rose for a split second before slapping your right cheek, making you squeal and making Wriothesley laugh.

“Careful, Y/N.” He chided, using his palms to massage the abused flesh as an imprint of his hand—ringed fingers and all—slowly began to appear on your ass. “This door may be thick, but this chamber echos. You don’t want the guards and—Gods know who else—hearing you on the other side, do you~?”

You felt your face heat up against the frigid door’s surface, now acutely aware of the silence on the other side, which meant his guards were now undoubtedly listening. Nonetheless, you nodded, casting a shy glance over your shoulder to your lover, who was already gazing up at you with half-lidded eyes and that salacious smirk on his face that just made your knees go weak and your folds gush with arousal.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that though,” He stated nonchalantly, leaning over to press a soft kiss against your ass as sinful digits reached up to peel your already soaked panties down your thighs until they pooled at your ankles. Wriothesley groaned inwardly, his pupils blown, as he used his thumbs to spread you apart in all your glory, admiring how your folds glistened in the dim lights of the lower floor of his office. “*I can’t promise that I’ll be going easy on you either, baby.”

Without saying another word, his hands reached out and took firm hold of both your cheeks, spreading them wide before plunging straight into your dripping folds. Immediately, your knees were buckling beneath you as a pleasured mewl escaped your lips, your nails dragging against the metal surface in an attempt to find purchase. With his hands leaving your ass to wrap around the front of your thighs, his tongue was unrelenting as it ruthlessly claimed every inch of your pussy to himself, drawing you closer to him so he could continue to devour you. His tongue was hot, heavy, and drooling as it spread you wide open, encircling your clit, and slurping up whatever delicious goodness you had to offer. His nose pressed deep into your wetness, drowning in your depths, but he did not seem to care in the slightest. He wanted more—craved more—and one thing about Wriothesley was that he was a man who got what he wanted.

His tongue and ravenous lips wrapped around your tender nub and sucked away like a starving man enjoying the sweetest nectar of life, leaving you a moaning mess above him and unable to stop your hips from moving on their own as you practically fucked yourself against his face. You didn’t care if the guards—or anyone else, for that matter—heard you. All you could focus on was how his sweltering and deft mouth had you practically creaming onto his selfish brims already.

“Wrio~!” You keened, nearly losing your footing had it not been for Wriothesley keeping you firmly in place by his grip. “I-I can’t! I-It’s too much!” You whimpered just as another cry drew from your lips from a jolt of pleasure from your nethers.

In response, you felt another sharp spank rain down on your ass, and Wriothesley finally withdrew, but only so that he could snarl out, “You can and you will. Fucking take it, Y/N.” He was breathless, panting—truly, a man starved in his most primal state.

He pulled away momentarily, strings of your arousal clinging to the lower half of his face, which was glistening in your translucent juices, to turn to your inner thighs. His jaw widened before clamping down harshly on your once supple flesh, biting and sucking the blood to it’s surface to leave furious marks in his wake.

“Wriothesley!” You wept with delight and surprise at the lewd action that made your folds rub together, and you were unable to ignore the disgustingly lewd squelching sound that came from your cunt.

He repeated the same action, this time on your ass cheek, taking the pliant flesh between his teeth and delivering yet another primal bite to your soft skin, effectively marking you. “Shit, Y/N.” His heated breath wafted over your clit, making you clench around nothing as he huffed and panted like a mutt against your thigh, an action that your attentive lover obviously noticed. “The things you do to me . . .~”

Without saying anything more, he plunged back into you, even more intense than before. With his deft fingers reaching around your front and rubbing quick, merciless circles onto your clit, he was aiming at his sole target, your sopping hole. Pushing his tongue in and out of your wetness, he slurped every last drop of your sweet juices onto his tongue. He was milking you like a machine—using your clit as the trigger to release more and more of your translucent fluids onto his tongue, which he rapaciously gluped down. All the while, your toes curled in your shoes, and as every one of his hot, heavy pants exhaled through his nose, you were able to feel it against your pretty asshole.

“Wrio, wrio, baby, please! R-Right there, I-I’m gonna . .” Your hasty pleas were cut off, your hand reaching back to tangle itself into your boyfriend’s smokey locks, holding him in place as you basically rode his tongue.

You felt him chuckling against your folds before you heard him, unable to stop the sharp cry that escaped you from the sudden vibration. His hand left your clit, however, it was soon replaced with his mouth in favor of meeting your hand with his own. He pried your death grip from his locks, intertwining his fingers with your own as his head shook back and forth between your thighs. His lips suckled away at you in such an unforgiving way that it made your head spin and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Anyone within the immediate vicinity could definitely hear the unabashed slurping and squleching sounds emanating from his efforts as they reverberated through his office's chambers.

He took your hand in his and massaged calming circles around your knuckles until you finally came undone in front of him, unable to contain your overwhelming euphoria. A series of cries and mewls left your lips, leaving you breathless as your juices came flooding out of you, drenching your lover’s face and attire in a torrent, which he happily gulped down. Had it not been for his grip on your frame, you most definitely would’ve collapsed, but he held you firmly against him, even using his face to support your weight at one point like your own personal seat—because it was. After all, he was yours just as much as you were his, and he’d be damned if anything tried to change that.

His hurried movements subsided during your high, his tongue now languidly stroking your folds to carry you through your blissful daze; still, you could not control your hips from lurching each time he touched your tender, pulsating nub. Before long, he began to back off, giving you some leverage and giving himself space to finally breathe. His hot breath wafted against your behind, his chest rising and falling with each breath, finally being kind enough to himself to give him the sweet, sweet oxygen his lungs had been begging for.

Slowly, he rose from behind you, your half-lidded gaze meeting his own through the tears that formed on your lash line, which he wiped away with a swipe of his thumb.

“Y’still with me, pretty?” He whispered in a honeyed drawl, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder as the hand that was holding your own moved to your bicep to rub soothing circles along your arm.

You nodded, albeit weakly, still recovering from the mind-shattering orgasm he had just put you through.

“Y’feel better now, Wrio?”

He responded with a hearty chuckle, rolling his neck in a tantilizing way that exposed his throbbing Adam’s apple and scarred throat. His gaze met your own again, this time with a familiar spark burning behind his dusky hues, “Ahh, a’litte bit.”

He leaned over you once again, his forearm resting above your head as his chest pressed against your back. You gasped, your hips jolting as you felt his rock-hard bulge pressing against you, just barely managing to graze your sopping folds.

“Still feeling a little ‘tense’ here . . . but you’d be willing to help me out,” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. Although you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smirk beaming from his stupidly handsome face.

“Right, baby?”

Oh, he was going to be the death of you someday.

ⓒ vampiie 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE ★

a/n: fluff!! neuvillette being a touch starved loser (affectionate) + lots of terms of endearment. happy belated neuvillette day! may all neuvillette wanters be neuvillette havers ≧◡≦

Neuvillette can't stand coming home if not into your arms.

The deafening silence of a sleeping home drives him mad. It used to be welcomed after his terribly loud days. Now only serves to remind him of the millennium he spent alone, of the heartbreak he had to endure with no one to hold him, and of the growing emptiness within his heart long before he knew you.

It's unlike him to come home so late, but duty calls and as the Iudex of Fontaine he must go wherever summoned.

For days he has come home well into the latest hours of the night, sliding off his shoes in the darkness of the hall and allowing the silence to swallow him up whole. Five unbearably long days of missing your smile greeting him at the door, hands all over his face and squeezing his cheeks until he nudges them away in lieu of kissing you hello.

He expects tonight to be the same. It's so late that there was not a single soul wandering the streets of the city, no one awake to witness the very tired, very cranky Chief Justice.

You always find a way to defy his expectations.

The hall is quiet when he cracks open the front door. Crushing loneliness swells in his chest and sinks into the pit of his stomach when he realizes that you must have gone to bed long ago, as anyone sane would do. But then there's a click, followed by a small flame dancing in the dark.

You ignite an array of candles one by one, each additional glow illuminating your beautiful face in warm light. Neuvillette can't stop the hitching of his breath, nor the confusion knitted through his brows.

"What are you doing awake?"

You know he doesn't mean to scold you. Soft laughter fills his ears as you saunter over to him slowly. Realization crashes down on him as you approach, allowing him to see closer what has kept you up.

"Happy birthday, my love."

It's so late that midnight passed hours ago. He hadn't even realized amongst all the chaos of his work that the 17th had come and gone, making way for his birthday.

Only you would remember. It was a talent you had, memorizing every detail about him that sometimes even he lost track of.

("Neuvillette, dear, I picked up some dark roast on the way home today." He didn't even realize he had run out.

"Welcome home, I made ragout!" He wasn't aware he was craving it until you brought it up.

"Do you want this?" It's the last cookie in the bag, saved especially for him because you know it's from his favourite bakery in town.)

He leans in and blows out his candles, eyes never leaving yours as he blinks at you slowly. You look so beautiful even now, in the dimly moonlit hall. Darkness envelops your bodies again and yet he never tears his gaze away. Not even for a moment.

"Now put the cake down, please."

"Hm?" Your head tilts, clearly confused by his request.

"So I can hold you," he quickly explains, fingers itching at his sides because of how much he aches to hug you.

You gently set the cake down on the entrance table before you get scooped into a warm embrace, pressed snuggly to his chest as he memorizes the outline of your body against his once more.

"I've missed you, my dear," he says, face burrowed into the crook of your neck.

"It's only been a couple days," you laugh, and then remind him: "I see you every day at lunch."

"No, this is different." He pulls away slightly, forehead pressed against yours as he looks into your eyes. There's something in there— vulnerability and love all mixed into a beautiful purple harmony. "I miss coming home into your arms after long days," he admits.

"Oh, love," you breathe, reaching up to cup his face the way he's so used to. "Things will settle down again soon."

His eyes close as he savours your presence, soaking up all the affection you're giving him in his moment of weakness. You've always spoiled him.

"I suppose so," he agrees, a smile finally settling on his lips. Your thumb runs along it, tracing the curve of his happiness. There's a beat of silence before you open your mouth again.

"What did you wish for?" You ask curiously, voice growing quieter as you lean in to kiss him. And the answer he gives comes naturally.

Neuvillette has always wished for things he read about in novels; imaginary promises of treasure and desire and fame, sealed with the wispy smoke of blown out birthday candles. He isn't even sure if he has ever actually wanted any of those. But as he looks at you, with the slow beating of his heart and the brushing of your lips against him, he can't think of a single thing he could want more than this.

"I did not wish for anything," he tells you honestly, giving your waist a squeeze. "I already have everything I could ever want."

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[romugh]

SENSUAL FREQUENCIES - NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 5th — phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control PART 2 TO SENSUAL UNRAVELING

DAY FOUR || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- g!p!avenger!natasha romanoff x avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, g!p!bottom!natasha, phone sex, heavyyy praise kink, orgasm control, orgasm denial, mommy kink (SHE/HER PRONOUNS USED ONCE FOR READER i think) edging, slight degradation, 6k of pure phone sex guys, the beloved fleshlight making an appearance! natty would definitely give it a name tbh

wc- 6.5k *proud face*

a/n- could be read as a standalone. have fun reading, hornballs!! beware of the warnings :) also!!!!!!!! yesterday's (4/10) fic was going to be dedicated to someone for their birthday, but since i didn't post it i'll dedicate both this one and the originally planned one (that'll be posted tomorrow!). happy (belated, sorry) you, sweet @godhatesgoodgirls !!

prompts- phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control

synopsis- natasha misses you when you're away on a mission, so she takes you up on that "i'm just a phone call away if you get stuck" (except she's not stuck, she's hard, and she needs you to make it better).

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you...” “Believe it, Nat,” you teased, pulling her hands away from her face so you could see her flushed expression again. “I’m just a phone call away if you get stuck.”

Natasha had always prided herself on her control. She was composed, steady, able to focus under pressure no matter the situation. It was a skill she’d honed over the years, something that had kept her alive through missions, battles, and everything in between. But today, control was the last thing on her mind.

She had been throbbing all day.

It started as a soft ache, something she could ignore at first—just the usual longing for you, the way her body craved your touch, your voice, especially after so many weeks apart. You had been on an undercover mission for nearly seven weeks now. Seven long, lonely weeks without you by her side. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to be away for extended periods of time, but this mission had been different. She hadn’t seen your face in weeks, hadn’t heard your voice in days, and your last message had been three days ago, a short, cryptic text that gave her little reassurance. You’d told her this mission would be demanding, but Natasha hadn’t expected to miss you this much.

It wasn’t just the physical absence of you that hurt—it was the silence. The nights felt longer, the spaces between her texts to you emptier. She had filled the gaps with her own updates, sending you messages about everything and nothing. She sent you a good morning and goodnight every day, even if you wouldn’t reply. She told you what she ate, told you about the book she was reading (Tony had gifted it to her when he noticed her sulking, in that way he pretended wasn’t caring but totally was), and she told you about her workouts, debriefing you on everything she’d do. But now, after three days of silence from you and weeks of no calls, she felt a gnawing emptiness in her chest that matched the heat spreading through her body.

Her mind wandered back to you constantly, no matter what she did to distract herself. She had trained with Wanda earlier, sparred with Steve, attempted to cook with Vision (disastrous. She’s glad you weren’t there to see that chaos), even buried herself in the book Tony had given her. Nothing worked. All day long, the ache between her legs had only worsened, the throb of need pulsing stronger and stronger until it hurt. Every shift of her hips, every brush of fabric against her skin made her dizzy with want.

She had never been this horny in her life—not to the point that it was painful.

Natasha leaned back on the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. She was a mess, and she knew it. Her thighs were slick with arousal, her body hypersensitive to every little movement. She tried to close her legs, to dull the ache, but it didn’t help. Nothing would help. Not unless it was you.

She thought about touching herself—her hand hovering over the waistband of her pants more than once. But she stopped herself every time. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. It never was. Her hand wouldn’t feel like yours, wouldn’t wrap around her the same way, wouldn’t tease her until she was dripping, desperate, begging for release. She didn’t want to do it herself. She couldn’t. Not when she knew how much better it would feel with you here, guiding her, taking control.

Her mind wandered to the fleshlight you had given her as a gift—a night she wouldn’t forget. She had been so shy about it at first, so unsure of how to use it without your help. That night had been the first time she had really let go, let you guide her, and the thought of using it again made her body ache even more. But it wasn’t the toy she wanted. The toy wasn’t you.

Natasha swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the cushions of the couch as she resisted the urge to move, to give in. Her cock twitched, swollen and painfully hard, straining against her pants. She had never felt this desperate before, not even when you were still just friends, dancing around your feelings. This need was overwhelming, consuming, and it was starting to drive her insane.

She had been on edge all day, her body vibrating with tension, her mind flooded with memories of you—your touch, your scent, the sound of your voice in her ear, coaxing her to let go. Her breath hitched just thinking about it, about how easily you could make her unravel. Her own hand couldn’t replicate that feeling, not even close. And her fleshlight? It wasn’t your mouth. It wasn’t your hand. Nothing was.

Her phone sat next to her on the couch, the screen black and mocking her with its silence. She hadn’t called you once during your mission, knowing better than to interrupt you, especially if you were in the middle of something crucial. But today? Today was different. She wasn’t thinking clearly anymore—her mind too clouded by the throbbing between her legs, the constant pulse of her need.

She had texted you countless times, but now her fingers hovered over your name, hesitating. Was it too much? Would you even be able to answer? What if you were in danger, or worse, what if her call put you in harm’s way?

Her heart raced as she stared at the phone, her thumb shaking slightly as she fought against the rising tide of desperation that threatened to take over. She bit her lip, trying to calm herself down, but the ache between her legs was relentless. She needed you. Now.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers moved on their own, dialling your number. The phone rang once, twice, and her breath caught in her throat. Each ring echoed in her ears, the tension in her body growing with every second that passed. Her hand clenched around the phone, her entire body trembling with need.

The moment your phone vibrated in your pocket, you felt your heart stop. You were just out of a tense situation—dangerous, even by your standards. You had barely slipped away, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins when you felt your phone buzz repeatedly.

Natasha.

It had been weeks since you last had her in your arms, and you hadn’t spoken on the phone in what felt like forever. But for her to call now, with no warning? Something was wrong. You didn’t even think, barely took the time to check your surroundings, before you ducked into a secluded corner and answered the call. Your voice came out in a rush, thick with worry.

“Nat? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and your heart clenched in your chest. You could hear her breathing—shallow, uneven, almost... trembling. Your mind raced, picturing the worst. Was she hurt? Had something happened to her while you were away?

“Natasha?”

She almost groaned at the sound of your voice. Her body reacted instantly, a wave of heat flooding through her, the ache between her legs intensifying until it was almost unbearable. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until it escaped her in a shaky exhale.

“Natasha?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic bubbling inside you. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

Another shaky breath, then her voice, “I... I need you.”

Natasha pressed her thighs together, but it did nothing to ease the pulsing in her core. She clenched the phone tightly, her voice dropping into a whisper. She didn’t care about pride anymore. She didn’t care about anything except the fact that she needed you.

Your heart skipped a beat, your stomach twisting with concern. You had heard Natasha vulnerable before, but this? This was different. She sounded desperate, almost like she was on the verge of tears, and it made your chest tighten.

“Nat, are you hurt? Where are you?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent. “I’ll be there as fast as I can, just tell me what happened. I can finish up the mission tomorrow if you need–”

“No, I’m not—” Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m not hurt, I just... I can’t...”

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. She wasn’t hurt, but something was clearly wrong. You pressed the phone tighter to your ear, your mind racing, trying to piece together what she was trying to say. She wasn’t making sense.

“Nat, you’re scaring me. What do you mean? Can’t what?”

There was another long pause on her end, the sound of her breathing heavy and uneven, like she was struggling to get the words out. And then it hit you—a soft, strangled noise that wasn’t a sob, but... something else.

Realisation flickered in the back of your mind, and suddenly the pieces began to fall into place.

“Natasha,” you said slowly, your tone shifting, softening. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I... I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “It hurts.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the concern from moments before slowly melting into something else, something warmer, something more. The tension in her voice, the way she struggled to say the words—it wasn’t pain. Not the kind you’d feared. It was something else entirely.

But she still wasn’t saying it. Not exactly. And as much as you wanted to rush to her side, to help her through whatever it was she needed, part of you couldn’t help but play along. You could almost picture her on the other end of the line, flushed, embarrassed, trying to find the right words but too shy to admit what she really wanted.

“Natty,” you murmured, letting a teasing lilt slip into your voice. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound... off.”

“I—I’m fine,” she stammered, but her breath hitched, and the lie was as clear as day.

“You don’t sound fine. You sound like you’re upset. Or... something.”

“I’m not upset,” she blurted out quickly, the words rushing out in a desperate attempt to save face. There was another pause, and then, quieter, almost like she didn’t want to admit it. “I just... I miss you.”

You let the silence hang between you for a moment, pretending not to understand her meaning. She was trying so hard to make you understand without saying the words. And as much as you wanted to be there for her, to give her what she needed, you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

“Miss me, huh?” you teased lightly, playing dumb. “Well, I miss you too. But you sound like you’ve been crying. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not crying!” she snapped, more frustrated with herself than with you. “I just... I—” She broke off, the words catching in her throat as she tried to gather her thoughts, tried to figure out how to make you understand.

“Natasha,” you said softly, your tone firm but gentle. “Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.”

“I can’t—fuck, I can’t say it,” she groaned, her voice dropping to a whisper. She sounded so defeated, so completely undone by her own need, and it made your chest tighten. You could practically feel her squirming on the other end of the line, trying to hold it together, but barely hanging on.

You bit back a smile, leaning against the wall as your voice dropped lower, more teasing. “You can’t say what, Natty? Come on, baby, use your words.”

There was a long pause, and you could hear her breathing pick up again, more shallow this time. You could practically feel the tension through the phone, the way she was struggling with herself, so desperate to ask for what she needed but too embarrassed to say it.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she finally admitted, her voice shaky, desperate. “I—fuck, I need you so bad. It’s... it’s been like this all day. It hurts.”

The vulnerability in her voice made your heart ache. But still, she was avoiding the words, the real admission. And you wanted to hear it. You wanted her to say it, to surrender completely to the need she was so clearly drowning in.

“I’m here, Nat. I’m listening,” you said gently, your tone coaxing. “But you need to tell me what’s really going on. I’m not a mind reader, baby.”

She let out a frustrated noise, somewhere between a whine and a groan, and you could almost picture her clenching her fists, trying to find the courage to say the words.

“I’m... I’m so wet, okay?” she blurted out, her voice shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so bad, i’m so hard, I can’t—” She cut herself off again, her breath hitching. “I need you to tell me what to do. It hurts, Mommy. It really fucking hurts.””

Her admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and she could almost hear your heart quicken on the other end of the line. There was a long silence, and Natasha thought she might burst from the anticipation, her skin burning under the weight of it.

Your heart had skipped a beat at her words, the raw honesty in her admission making your chest tighten. But still, you couldn’t help but tease her a little more. 

She had made you worry, after all.

“You’re wet?” you asked, your voice dropping lower, teasing. “Is that it? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please, I can’t—fuck, I need you to tell me what to do. Please.”

You took a breath, letting her words hang in the air, savouring the way she had finally given in. And then, in a low, soothing tone, you said:

“Take off your clothes for me, Natty. Slowly. Let me hear you.”

There was a moment of silence after you told her to undress, and you could hear the hitch in her breath, the soft gasp as your words sunk in. Natasha’s mind was racing, her body trembling with a mix of need and nervousness, but more than anything, she wanted to be good for you. She wanted to please you, to do exactly what you told her.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “I’ll do it. I’ll... I’ll be good.”

Her words sent a thrill through you, but you kept your tone steady, soothing, teasing her just enough to push her deeper into that space where all she could think about was you.

“Good girl,” you murmured, and you heard a soft whimper in response. Natasha’s breathing picked up, her body already reacting to the praise, her mind slipping into that sweet haze where she craved more of it—needed more of it. “Take your time, baby. Slowly. I want to hear everything.”

There was a rustle of fabric on the other end of the line, the sound of Natasha obeying, of her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her pants, her breathing shallow and uneven. She moved slowly, like you asked, and you could almost picture her—her flushed cheeks, her trembling hands, her cock throbbing painfully as she stripped for you.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Nat,” you coaxed softly, letting your voice drip with sweetness. “I want to know how you look right now. Tell me everything.”

“I... I took off my pants,” she whispered, her voice shaky with both arousal and embarrassment. “I’m just in my... my shirt.”

“Good job, Любимая моя [Lyubimaya moya, my darling]. What else?”

Her breath hitched, and there was another pause, like she was hesitating, but the need to hear your praise drove her forward.

“I—I’m taking it off. My shirt.” There was a soft rustle, followed by the quiet sound of her breath, the vulnerability in her voice sending a rush of heat through you.

“Good. You’re doing so well for me, Natty.” The words were like honey, soft and coaxing, and you could hear her shiver in response.

“Tell me how you feel, baby.”

“I... I feel so... hot,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “I’m... I’m dripping, fuck... I need you so bad, Mommy.”

The admission slipped out before she could stop it, her voice shaking as she tried to keep herself together. But your praise was unravelling her, making her mind foggy, making her want to give in completely.

“Oh, sweet girl... you need me that bad, huh?” you teased, your voice soft but commanding. “Can you feel how wet you are?”

“Yes,” she whimpered again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’m so wet. It’s all over my thighs. I—I can’t stop... I don’t know what to do.”

The helplessness in her voice made your chest tighten, but in a way that sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was always so composed, so in control, but right now? She was unravelling, falling apart under the weight of her own need, and it was because of you. And you could hear how much she needed your approval, your guidance—how much she wanted to hear you say that she was being good for you.

“Touch yourself for me, Natty,” you said, your voice dropping into something firmer, but still gentle enough to coax her forward. “You’re doing so well already, baby. Just let Mommy hear you.”

There was a soft gasp, and you could practically feel her hesitation, her trembling hand hovering over herself, uncertain. You waited, your breath steady, listening as she slowly obeyed, her fingers brushing against her cock with a soft, desperate moan.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, the sound raw and needy. “I—I can’t... it’s not the same. It’s not you.”

You smiled at the frustration in her voice, the way she was already slipping into that headspace where all she could think about was you. You leaned back against the wall, your own arousal building at the thought of her coming undone, of her needing you this badly.

“I know, baby,” you murmured, your tone soft but firm. “But you’re doing so well for me. Keep touching yourself, just like that. You’re so good, Natty. Mommy’s good girl.”

The praise hit her like a wave, and she moaned, louder this time, her breath hitching as she stroked herself, her hand moving slowly, trembling with the need for more. But she didn’t want to go too fast. She didn’t want to disappoint you.

“I can’t—fuck, I’m so close already,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—I can’t come yet, I need you.”

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, the warmth in your voice making her whimper. “You’re doing so well. But I think you can wait a little longer for me, don’t you? I can’t make you come yet, can I?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her body shivering at your words, at the way you teased her so sweetly. She wanted to come, needed to come, but she didn’t want to disobey you. She wanted to be good for you.

“Я знаю [Ya znayu, I know],” she whimpered, her voice soft, almost pleading. “I won’t. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” you praised again, and she shuddered, her body trembling as she tried to hold herself together, tried to keep from spilling over the edge. Her mind was yours now, clouded by the need for release, but your words—your praise—kept her tethered, kept her from giving in.

“Does it feel good, Nat?” you asked, your voice smooth and coaxing. “Do you like being Mommy’s good girl? Letting me hear you fall apart?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice thick with arousal. “Yes, please... please tell me more. I need... I need you.”

Her desperation made your heart swell, and you let the teasing lilt in your voice drop lower, more commanding, more intimate.

“You’re doing so well for Mommy, baby. I love hearing you like this. So desperate, so needy... you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her body arching, trembling with the effort to hold back. “I’m... I’m your good girl. Please... I don’t know if I can...”

“You can,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm, coaxing her back from the edge. “You’re so strong, baby. You can wait for me. You want to be perfect for me, don’t you?”

“I do,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I—I want to be good for you. I’ll wait, I promise.”

The praise, the control, the way you spoke to her—it was driving her mad. Her mind was slipping further into that haze, the only thing keeping her grounded was the sound of your voice, the warmth of your words. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to hear you tell her she was good. She needed it.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you cooed, your voice dripping with praise. “So perfect for me. I want you to keep touching yourself, but don’t come. You have to wait for Mommy to be back.”

She moaned again, her hand trembling as she continued to stroke herself, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. She was so close, the heat in her belly coiling tighter, but she wanted to be good. She wanted to wait for your permission.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—fuck, I really don’t know if I can...”

“You can, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re doing so well. I know it hurts, but I want you to hold on just a little longer. For me, for Mommy.”

Natasha whimpered, her body trembling with the effort to stay in control, but your words were like a lifeline, keeping her grounded, keeping her focused. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to be your good girl.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice shaking. “Please... please, can I...?”

You smiled, hearing the desperation in her voice, knowing she was teetering right on the edge. 

“Not yet, baby,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing. “You need to wait for Mommy.”

The streets of Budapest were eerily quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your boots on the pavement. You were slipping through the shadows like a ghost, your focus razor-sharp despite the chaos you’d just escaped. Yes, the mission has been rough—rougher than you’d like to admit—but the adrenaline in your veins was now blending with something else, something far more potent.

Natasha was falling apart on the other end of the line, her breath shaky, thick with desperation. The sound of her voice—strained, needy—made you quicken your pace, eager to get somewhere private, somewhere you could finally give her your undivided attention. The safehouse was just a few blocks away now, nestled in a quiet corner of the city, secluded enough for what you had in mind.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice trembling. You could hear the slick sound of her hand stroking herself, painfully slow, just as you’d ordered. She was holding back, her body strung so tightly with need it was almost unbearable. “I need it, please… I can’t—fuck—I can’t hold it anymore.”

You smiled to yourself, weaving through the darkened alleyway. You could practically see her in your mind—Natasha, laid bare on her bed, her face flushed, her chest heaving, her cock swollen and leaking as she desperately tried to obey you. She was so close, right on the edge, but she was yours. And you weren’t going to let her have it.

“Natasha,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing. “You sound so desperate, baby. Is it really that bad? Are you really that needy for me?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her breath hitching. Her hand faltered, her muscles tightening as she tried to hold back. “Yes, I—I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you. I—fuck, please, I need to come. Please.”

You hummed, letting her hear the amusement in your voice. “But, Natty… you want to be my good girl, right?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll be good, I promise, just please—”

“But you’re not being good, baby,” you interrupted, your voice sharp, commanding. “You’re being a slut, aren’t you? Look at you, touching yourself. You keep begging Mommy to come like that. That’s not what my good girl would do, is it? Mommy’s good girl would listen after the first time, am i right?”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, a soft, broken whine slipping from her lips. “N-no… yes, I want to be your good girl, I—”

“But you’re not,” you said, your tone dripping with condescension. “You’re being a slut right now. You can’t even control yourself, can you?”

A choked sob escaped her, her hand trembling as she tried to keep going, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. The degradation stung, but the praise was still there, woven through your words, and it only made her need you more. She wanted to be good, to be your best girl, but the way you were talking to her—so condescending, so cruel—it was driving her wild.

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasped, her voice thick with desperation. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise. Please, I don’t want to be your slut, I want to be your—”

“My princess?” you finished for her, your voice softening just a fraction, laced with sweet, saccharine praise. “You want to be my good girl, my best girl, right? Not my needy little slut?”

“Yes,” she cried out, her voice barely holding together. “Yes, I want to be your princess, I want to be your good girl, I—fuck, please, I’ll do anything, just make me come.”

You grinned, stepping into the small, darkened safehouse. The lock clicked behind you, the space around you dim and secluded. You’d finally made it, alone, safe for now.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening as you heard her soft, broken sobs through the phone. “I know you want to be my good girl. But right now? You’re acting like such a desperate whore for me. You don’t even deserve to come, do you?”

Natasha let out a choked whine, her entire body shaking as she balanced on the edge of control. Her hand was trembling, dripping with pre-cum as she tried to keep herself from going over the edge, but it was torture—pure, sweet torture. She needed you. Needed you to tell her she was good, to let her have that release, but you were holding it just out of reach, dangling it in front of her like a cruel tease.

“Please,” she whimpered again, her voice cracking. “Please, I’m—I’m trying so hard to be good. I’ll be good, I promise. I can’t… fuck, I can’t take it anymore.”

You sighed softly, walking into the office in the safehouse, your legs spread as you leaned back, relaxing into the chair by the desk. “Natasha, you’re such a mess right now,” you murmured, your voice low, soothing, but with that familiar edge of command. “But I know you can take it. You’ve been so strong for me, haven’t you? Holding back for so long…”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need. “Yes, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been so good for you, please—”

“So be my good girl, princess,” you murmured, your voice softening as Natasha let out another soft, broken sob. “You’re doing so well, baby. I know it hurts, but you’re being so good for me.”

You could hear her breath hitch, hear the way she was barely holding on. She was so close to breaking, so close to losing herself completely, and it was all for you.

The sound of her ragged breathing, the way her voice shook with every word, sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was hanging by a thread, teetering between pleasure and desperation, and you could feel the weight of her need through the phone. You knew she was doing everything she could to be good for you, to wait, but she was unravelling faster than even she realised.

“Tell me what it feels like,” you demanded softly, your voice firm but sweet, pushing her further into her own torment. You could imagine the way her hand must be moving now, slower than she wanted, the way her hips twitched involuntarily as she edged herself at your command. “Describe it to Mommy, Natty.”

“It—” she choked out, her voice faltering. “It feels like I’m going to break, Mommy. It’s… fuck, my hand, I—my cock hurts, I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Her voice was soaked with frustration, and you bit your lip, letting out a soft, pleased hum. You could hear her trying so hard to be obedient, to control herself despite the overwhelming need coursing through her, and it only made your smirk grow.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” you teased, a sadistic edge creeping into your voice. “Your cock’s aching so bad right now, huh? I bet it’s leaking all over you, isn’t it, baby? Tell me how bad you need to come.”

“It’s—oh, god,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “It’s leaking so much, I can feel it all over my stomach. I’m throbbing, I’m so fucking close—fuck—I can’t take it, please make me come, I can’t do it, I need you, please Mommy–.”

You could practically see it—Natasha, spread out, her cock flushed red and swollen, slick with pre-cum that smeared across her trembling abdomen. Her eyes would be squeezed shut, biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out, her right hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into her palm as she fought to hold on.

Your grip on her was total, and the realisation sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. Natasha Romanoff—deadly, lethal Natasha—reduced to a trembling, desperate mess by just the sound of your voice. You could feel her helplessness, her submission, and it thrilled you to no end.

“Good girl,” you purred, your voice soft and encouraging. “But you’re not going to come yet. You’re going to hold on, Natty. Hold on just a little longer for me. You want to make me proud, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, her voice raw and strained. “Yes, I want to make you proud. Please, Mommy, I’ll do anything, just—”

“Go faster.”

You felt the excitement thrumming through your veins as you pressed Natasha further, enjoying the control you held over her. “Go faster, Natty baby,” you instructed, your voice low and teasing. “I want to hear how badly you want me to make you come. Let me hear you.”

A soft whimper escaped her, and you could almost hear her heart racing. “I can’t… I can’t go faster. I’m so close, I’ll…” she stammered, her voice thick with desperation.

“Stop whining, baby. You can do this for me,” you replied, relishing in her struggle. “I know you want to make Mommy proud, you can make me proud. Just a little faster. I want to hear you begging, to feel that need spilling from you.”

With that, you could hear her hand moving more frantically now, the slick sound of her strokes filling the silence between your breaths. “Oh god, Mommy,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I need to… I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Not yet,” you said firmly, a wicked grin forming on your lips. “You need to hold it. Your orgasm is mine to control, Natty. You’re too much of a dumb slut, too much of a beautiful princess to be able to decide for yourself, okay?”

The sound of her breath hitched, a soft sob escaping her as the heat of your words washed over her. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’m trying… but it hurts.”

“Good. It should,” you replied, savouring the pleasure of her torment. “You’ve been so good for me, waiting all this time. I want you to suffer a little longer. Just keep going. You can do it, Natty.”

“Please,” she whimpered again, voice trembling with need. “I’ll do anything, just please make me come.”

Your tone softened, just slightly, “But you’re going to stop. I want you to get the fleshlight.”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear her heart racing. “Mommy, I—”

“Natalia,” you interrupted, the command in your voice unmistakable. “You’ll get it, or I’ll hang up right now. I mean it.”

The sound of her breath caught, and you could hear her scrambling, rushing to get her toy. “Okay, okay! I’m getting it!” There was a flurry of movement, and you could hear her panting, urgency lacing her every sound.

You chuckled softly, the thrill of her obedience sending a rush through you. “That’s my good girl. I like hearing you move for me.”

Moments later, you heard the unmistakable sound of the fleshlight being picked up. “I have it,” she gasped, her voice strained, and you felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you.

“Now, I want you to use it. Let me hear how bad you want this, Natty, how bad you want your toy to be Mommy.”

You could hear her hesitation, a soft tremble in her breath as she wrestled with her desire and the embarrassment of using the toy you’d given her. But you weren’t going to let her hesitate for long. “I said, use it. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

With a breathless whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight enveloping her cock mixing with her desperate gasps. “Oh god, it feels so good Mommy,” she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure, yet still straining to maintain control

“I want you to feel every second of this. You’re going to edge yourself, baby. You’ll love it.”

With a whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight gliding along her cock blending with her ragged breaths. “Oh god, Mommy, it feels so good,” she moaned, voice thick with pleasure and frustration. “I’m so close, I can’t hold back. Please, don’t make me stop.”

“You know you’re going to stop, Natty,” you replied softly, your voice a mix of honey and steel. “You’re too beautiful, too precious to be allowed to come just yet. You’ve been such a good girl for me, waiting all this time. Hold on. I need you to wait for me a little longer. I want you to remember this, every moment.”

The sound of her whimpering filled the air, the ache of her need palpable through the phone. “Mommy, please,” she sobbed, the emotion raw in her voice. “I’ll do anything—just let me come.”

“Tomorrow,” you said suddenly, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “I’ll finish the mission tomorrow. But for now? You’re going to edge yourself again and then put your toy away. Do you understand?”

“Yes! I understand!” she cried, the desperation spilling from her as she fought against the need clawing at her insides. “But Mommy, you just told me to use—”

“Stop talking, Natasha,” you ordered, your voice firm but tinged with a softness that only you could offer. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to ache for me. You’re mine to control. Just breathe and remember Mommy holds your pleasure in her hands.”

As the tension in Natasha's voice grew, you felt a rush of power coursing through you. “Natasha, put the fleshlight away,” you commanded, each word dripping with authority.

You heard her whine, the sound both obedient and pained. “Mommy, please! I can’t, I just want to—”

“Do it, now,” you pressed, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to put it aside and bind your hands together. You’re not touching yourself anymore. I’ll take care of you when I get back, but right now, you need to obey Mommy, sweet girl.”

With a shuddering breath, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight being set aside echoing in your ears like sweet music. You could almost picture her trembling hands, slick with anticipation and frustration, as she moved to find something to bind herself with.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, pride swelling within you as you heard the rustling sound of fabric or some material being looped together. “I want you to bind your hands tightly, so you can’t reach for anything. No distractions. Just you and your dirty thoughts until I return.”

“Okay, okay…” she whimpered, the strain evident in her voice as she obeyed. You could hear the soft sound of the material twisting around her wrists, the way she wrapped it securely, trapping herself in a state of helplessness.

“Now, lie on your back,” you instructed, your heart racing at the thought of her vulnerability, the image of her sprawled out, completely at your mercy flooding your mind.

“I’m— I’m lying back,” she gasped, her voice shaky as she followed your command. “Mommy, please…”

“Shh, just relax. You’ll be okay. I want you to breathe, to feel every ache in your body, every ounce of need that courses through you,” you soothed, the intensity of your voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “I’ll be back when you wake up, Natty, and I’ll take care of everything. Until then, just let yourself feel. You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.”

Mommy…” she breathed, the sound almost reverent, full of emotion and need.

“Yes, baby?” you prompted softly, sensing the weight of her vulnerability in the frequencies.

“Promise you’ll be back?” she asked, her voice laced with longing.

“I promise,” you replied, your heart swelling with a mix of affection and desire. “Now close your eyes and sleep a bit. I will be back tomorrow to take care of my perfect girl.”

As she lay back, bound and waiting, a rush of vulnerability washed over Natasha. She was utterly yours, her body tingling with need, every sensation heightened as she surrendered to the moment.

Her heart raced as she felt her shaft pressed against her stomach, still hard and aching, leaking pre-cum that smeared over her skin. The fleshlight lay next to her on the bed, abandoned, a reminder of the torment she had endured. Her left hand dripped with her own essence, a tantalising testament to her desperation.

She was yours, completely under your control, even continents away. And you were hers, no matter what.

With that thought, you let the connection linger in the silence, savouring the anticipation of what was to come. Natasha was utterly yours, and the game was far from over.

The urgency coursing through you now had little to do with the objective, and everything to do with the aching desire Natasha had ignited in you. You were ready to be done with it—tonight.

You quickly mapped out an aggressive approach, planning to cut through the final obstacles with swift precision. There was no time for calling Fury or Maria for backup or a Quinjet. That would only delay things. Instead, you booked the first available flight from Norway to the U.S., ready to handle it yourself, eager to get back to her.

As you confirmed the flight, a smirk crept across your lips. Natasha would wake up in a few hours, still tied, still aching for release. But she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. You’d be there soon enough to take care of everything—and her.

[enhard]

idk if you saw but there’s this one clip in Idol 1D2N of Sunghoon, rolling his eyes back while groaning after failing to score points ( 18:48-18:50). Please please write about it because I feel like that’s what he looks if someone gives him a mind blowing head after a frustrating day…

-🍄

🍄 anon this is perfect just PERFECT

and how he’d become so pouty when he comes back home, wishing you’d get the hint.. you get me?

putting the clip here just for the sake of it😩

park sunghoon — “a long day”

pairing: bf!p.sh x fem!reader

not proofread, enjoy! (MDNI)

you already knew his members were giving him a hard time, not listening to him, doing whatever they wanted, teasing him until he got upset and so on.

you knew because he texted you about it and you were there to comfort him.

sunghoon: [i can’t stay here anymore they keep annoying me for no reason]

[i’m actually fucking done they’re not listening]

[jake did the choreo wrong 5 times already and i told him what he did wrong and he didn’t even care to fix it]

he just keeps ranting. and you’re listening.

you: [baby i know it’s frustrating, if you don’t want to stay there come over after break😓]

[you can talk to me about it, just hang in there a bit more]

sunghoon: [okay love i’ll drop by i love you]

you just send him a silly gif and wait for him to finish his work.

after half an hour or so, you can hear your apartment doorbell ringing. you quickly get up from your couch to open the door just to see him standing in the doorway.

he slightly smiles at you, but you can tell that he’s pissed. he pulls you in his arms, his hands trailing down to grab your waist.

“i missed you.” he says, sounding exhausted from the mental chaos he went through today.

you chuckle at him, sneaking your lips onto his neck to give him sweet and soft kisses.

“i missed you too love.” you say between kisses.

at one point he pulls away to close the door and to sit down on the couch.

you offer him a glass of water and he nods in a way of thanking you.

he drinks a few sips to regather his thoughts and then he starts ranting about his day.

he seems so frustrated with everything that went today and you just feel bad for him, he’s trying his best but he just had a bad day.

he’s fidgeting with his fingers, looking for something to relieve him from the stress..

you know something popped up in his mind when he suddenly looked at you all pouty, being way too clingy and sticking to your arm a little too many times.

all it missed was for him to say it out loud, it was clear what he wanted. instead of you saying it right away, you stood up and got behind the couch.

you slowly leaned over the couch to hug him from behind, giving him kisses on his shoulder.

he smiles at you, getting a bit whiny now.

“loveee.. what are you doing..?” he says, throwing his head back to look at you.

you grab his cheeks, smiling back at him.

“maybe i can help you relax…” you pout back at him. “oh really? and how’s that?” he teases.

“oh you know exactly how, let me suck you off, i’ll make you feel good .. please?” you give him a small kiss on his forehead.

he nods, grabbing onto your arms to pull you closer.

you giggle at him already walking up in front of him again. giving him a smile, you gently get on your knees.

as you palm his crotch with your hand, he can’t help but laugh a bit.

“you’re always so good at finding excuses to fuck me up, aren’t you?” he scoffs.

your smile widens. “mmm.. maybe. i just crave you all the time.”

your hands stop listening to you, moving down to his pants to take them off. you don’t take them off all the way, just enough to expose his boxers.

you lift his shirt up a bit to give him a soft kiss on his abdomen, going back down to kiss his bulge. after a few sweet kisses, you finally take his boxers off.

you lick your lips once your eyes make contact with his cock, all red and waiting for you.

sunghoon furrows his eyebrows looking at you grab the base of his cock and lick at his tip, mumbling sweet words.

“love, do it already. put it in your mouth.”

“such a good girl, so good for me.”

and so on.

you continue licking his tip, abusing it with your tongue and getting to taste his precum. he gasps when he feels his tip in your mouth.

you’re sucking on it, giving it licks here and there while your hand is pumping him up and down slowly. it doesn’t take many strokes for him to start moaning.

“darling please…” he begs. you look up and him smiling, his tip still inside your mouth. you know you’re being a tease and.. he’s pretty frustrated as is, it must not be the time to tease him now.

you push your head down to take him whole. resting your hands on his thighs, you bop your head up and down until his tip reaches the back of your throat.

you choke a little, but at the same time you’re used to him. you’ve done this before. he grabs onto your hair to encourage you to keep going, moaning with every movement of yours.

he throws his head back, rolling his eyes at the same time (just like in the video) feeling you spitting on his cock, getting all messy and sloppy. you’re completely slurping him up, using your hand to stroke him when you decide to focus on that swollen tip of his.

“baby..fuck that feels good.” he moans out. you’re feeling him twitch in your mouth, hitting the roof of your mouth.. how can you not love moments like this. he’s so fucking hot.

as you’re tracing circles around his tip, you hear him cry out again. he’s begging and begging for you to keep going, you’re so good at this and you both know that you are.

he grabs onto your hair tighter just to fuck your throat. he keeps your head in place to thrust up into your mouth. he’s moaning and whimpering exactly how he wants, those noises being like a thank you card for helping him de-stress.

he looks back at you as he’s face fucking you, honestly not caring about much, just thinking about his pleasure. he loves the chokes and gags he hears every so often from you, fuelling him to continue.

after some more powerful thrusts, his voice cracks with his orgasm building in his stomach.

you can only mumble nonsense, whining and humming loudly. he’s about to cum and you’re there to swallow it all.

“baby..i can’t. i need to cum” he whimpers out loud.

he leaves thrusts even faster than the previous ones, his last thrust lasting longer. he cums down your throat, only pulling out of your mouth when you give him the signal that you swallowed it all. he’s noisy. very noisy. but you don’t mind and you couldn’t care less if your neighbours heard.

he pulls his cock away from your mouth, a string of saliva and cum linking them until you give his cock one last kiss. he releases the grasp on your hair, panting and squeezing his eyes shut.

you just smile, standing up to give him a little kiss. his cock is definitely still aching, it’s still hard. you know it’ll take more to help him relax than just a blowjob.

“let me really help you relax now.” you smile confidently.

[etdraconis]

( lol jk I got dragged to the store, then had dinner and went in the pool. And then my family and I made s’mores and hung out around the fire pit. So I’ve only gotten like… half of an ask done.

I’m gonna shower and then I will actually be here and write 😅 )

( ok i am home from work and have literally nothing planned for the rest of the evening, besides possibly going in the pool for a bit later tonight. Im gonna try to get at least my asks cleared out tonight, and hopefully a reply or two as well ! )

[allophonicmess]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 3

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine

This is a fluff chapter. Gotta give you guys some candy after all that angst

Word count 4.1 K

Life resumed as normal after that. Or as normal as it could be when you are suddenly placed in the new timeline. Logan kept getting confused by little details that were different to the life he had lived before. Professor X ? Sure he exists but he had hair. Cyclops? Oh yeah. He was just as annoying as he remembered. Who are the fucking Avengers and what sort of rich nerd was Tony Stark? And what about Jean?

“A hot red head with the telekinetic powers?” Wade hummed, pretending to be lost in thought. “Uh, no. UNLESS! Charles used to have a beautiful flowing mane that I don’t know about. He is turning grey, you know… but it suits him. Silver fox”              

So Jean was out of the picture. That was good, right?

Logan groaned at Wade's bad joke. He shifted his focus outside, watching the landscape change from looming tall skyscrapers to even fields and trees that started changing colour with the season. It reminded him of home.

“Just to get this straight.” Logan shifted in his seat. The car that Wade had bought from the dealership had been heavily discounted and Logan now understood why. You would think it can’t get worse than the Odyssey? Oh boy, were you wrong. It was too small for 4 people, let alone 2 mutant men. He already felt sorry for whoever might have to sit in the back for whatever reason.

“Y/N has powers?” Logan asked, trying to play it cool. The whole drive had been a big Q&A.

“Yup,” Wade said with a pop. One hand on the steering wheel and the rest of him laid back in his seat.

“They call her Osmium, too?” Logan didn’t like this dependency on the wanna-be hero. But he had to make a good first impression.

“Osmimimum? Uh no. She is called Atom” Wade laughed “Don’t if she actually does stuff with atoms… It's more like…” Wade groaned as he tried to think of an example.

“She manipulates density.” Logan pointed out. They had trained together many times. But Y/n was never allowed to use her full potential with the X-men. They condemned violence and so she was often left out on mission and focused on keeping the school running.

“Ugh- I guess? She once told me in great, boring detail why ‘Atom’ is a bad superhero name for her but they kept it for the marketability. “ He shrugged “Oh! I remember that one time we stopped a child-mutant trafficking and she got mad, like REAL MAD, and then she turned this one guy into goop.” Wade nodded fondly, thinking back at that moment. “And I mean like Nickelodeon kids choice award goop, like slurpable slushy goo, like-“

“Okay, alright! I get it.” Logan groaned in annoyance. Shaking his head at Wade. He was thankful for the man’s support and friendship but god was he annoying. Constantly.

“I wish she would do that to me sometime. It’s on my ways-to-die bingo. But she keeps refusing!” Deadpool hit the wheel dramatically.

“You are disgusting,” Logan stated dryly. “The most disgusting person I ever met.”

“Don’t forget the most annoying!”

...

The decision to go back to teaching was not made out of fun or for the joy of doing it. Maybe partially, even though Logan would not openly confess so. It was made out of necessity. Living with Wade and Al became tiresome after the first few weeks. It was always the same antiques, the lack of schedule as well as a constant state of chaos that made him crave the ordered life at the school once again. He hoped that it would give him a sense of belonging. The X-men might be different here, with a few quips and details that didn’t match with his reality. But living at the school would tie him to a strict schedule and by god, he needed some structure in his life.

 But all in all, it meant home.

“Okay, peanut. Today is a big day. But I know you’ll do great and meet a lot of new friends.” Wade joked in a motherly tone as they arrived at the Mansion. “And no hair pulling or biting unless they ask for it, okay?”

“I can’t wait to be rid of you” Logan groaned as the car came to a halt. He exited the car with a low groan, stretching to lose stiffed muscles. Not having to constantly ride in Wade's joke of a car was another reason that he preferred living at Xavier’s Institution. Speaking off:

“There you are. Welcome, welcome.” Xavier rolled into the mansions yard.

“A pleasure to have you, Logan. I must say, I was very pleasantly surprised when I received your response to my inquiry.” He moved towards Logan, offering his hand for a handshake.

Logan inspected the man. He was older, in his 40s maybe. But younger than the Charles Xavier he had worked with. He sported shaggy longer hair that was starting to thin out. Soon he would need to get it trimmed to keep his professional exterior. Along with a beard that was rather spotty and seemed too reminisce of his look in the 70s. Xavier looked like a mix of the two versions that Logan got to meet during his time at the school and it made him wonder how time worked here. Events seemed to play out in different order, they didn’t happen at all or much later than seemed correct.

He shook Xavier’s hand, thanking him for the offer. “Of course. I was surprised when you contacted me.” Logan confessed. His gaze shifted towards the grand building in front of him. It was the same old English style build that he knew, with a few modern elements added here and there.

“Is it familiar to you? The school? I assume you have experienced quite a few dejá-vus since arriving here.” Charles observed Logan.

“I do. Some things are the same. Others don’t match what I know or didn’t happen at all.” He confessed. Already feeling the brother connection build, similar to the one he had with the other Charles.

“You will find your answers. I am sure of it.” Charles turned around motioning Logan to follow him inside. “I think it is best if we continue this conversation in my office.” He looked over his shoulder at Wade, who had waited in the car, listening in on the conversation.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be on my way. You call me if you need to get picked up, Pookie!” He waved at Logan in a motherly way.

“You aren’t coming?” He asked, somewhat confused. But then he saw Charle’s face, the intense stare he gave Wade.

“Uhhh, no I technically have a house ban for no apparent reason-“

“You burned down the west wing” Charles answered dryly.

Wade clicked his tongue, “Right, okay. Yeah… But! It’s very modern now.” He chuckled weakly. “You’ll still call me up for a mission, right?” He tried to persuade the professor.

“If the mission takes place outside of my building then yes.” Charles agreed, focusing back on Logan. And leading him inside. Neither of them commented on the cheer that Wade gave as he drove off.

Being back at the school felt surprisingly good to Logan. It was like coming back from a long holiday. Most everything was the same: Students running in the hallways, playing games in the gardens and-

“Fancy seeing you here!”

Logan turned around quickly, looking for whoever addressed him. Some children were buzzing along the halls, none of them too interested in him. Then he spotted her by the stairs. Leaning onto the dark wooden rails of the gallery. The light from the window behind her illuminating her figure.

“Y/n”, he breathed.

“Hi! Charles told me that you wanted to start teaching again.” She made her way downstairs, focus shifting between not falling and keeping her gaze on him. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see him.

He turned more toward her, watching her get closer to ground level. With each step he felt his excitement grow “He contacted me, actually. Asked whether I wanted to work here…”

“Oh really? What a coincidence ”She grinned mischievously, stopping at the end of the stairs and leaning on one of the bannisters. She kept a little space between them. There might be some familiarity between them but she didn’t want to push him too far yet and give him the chance to get closer to her if he felt like it.

But Logan stayed in place: “Do you have anything to do with that?”

She smirked,  and he felt some of his charm return to him . He might be rusty but some things were just engraved in him.

“Maybe” She shrugged, smiling softly with a playful sparkle in her eyes “But I’m assuming that you won’t be teaching history, right?” Y/n teased carefully. The multiverse situation was a thing she wanted to be careful about. Wade had told her a little bit about what had happened to Logan before he transferred but she didn’t know any details.  

“No, I teach PE and defence classes. You do science, right?” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, hoping to lose the tension in his body. He threw the tidbit of knowledge into the conversation, hoping that he was right and that the two versions of her had that much in common.

“Chemistry and Literature, yeah.” She smiled. She then looked at her watch before pointing towards another corridor with a sigh “I’d love to talk more, but I need to get to class. Maybe we could meet sometime.” She secured the book in her arms.

“Yes.” He answered with a stiff nod, his hands were getting sweaty.

They stood In awkward silence.

“Maybe over a coffee?” She asked, looking up at him, her lip curled upwards. Her look became more expecting as he watched her in silence.

 He would catch the bait she just threw, right? Scott had laughed when she asked him about what Logan had been like; What this version might be like.

 ‘He’s an asshole’ He said ‘a cocky asshole and who thinks he can charm any girl he likes’ she blushed at that comment ‘But he is into the dark, mysterious type if that is what you are after’

“Maybe”, Logan gave  cold and curtly.

He regretted his demeanor when he saw her smile slip for just a moment.

Fuck.

Her face slipped for a moment “Oh.. okay.” She huffed softly. “See you around then.” Y/n nodded quickly before running off.

...

A routine established itself after the first weeks back at the school. The work there itself was the same. Teach the children standard curricula, training them in controlling their powers and some extracurricular activities.

He would spend some evenings with the other members of Team X ,as they called themselves here. Sometimes he would meet Y/n in the hallway but he didn’t work up the courage to stop and talk to her beyond a quick ‘hello’.

What is wrong with you? You used to sweep women off their feet. She is offering herself to you at any chance and you still can’t manage to ask her out?

He sighed as he changed back into his regular clothes. The class had just ended. It was Friday, still fairly warm for October and the trees looked beautiful in all shades of red, orange and yellow.

 Would be perfect for a romantic walk… A charming, rugged man could ask a woman out for that.

“That guy died a long time ago…” He mumbled to himself. Picking up his bag and closing the locker.

He exited the gym, making his way to his room or rather apartment. Wade managed to burn down the teacher's quarters along with the kitchens and cafeteria in some wicked stunt. No one knew what happened and that was for the best, he guessed.

However, that incident resulted in a modernized reconstruction with more spacious rooms for the teachers and a communal cafeteria that students and members of Team X shared.  Great for extroverts but Logan had to pass it every time he went to his rooms, much to his dismay. To make it worse,  the communal space was separate from the hall via a glass wall, allowing for a perfect view of everyone who tried to sneak past. Which led to uncomfortable situations such as this.

“Logan!” Piotr called, waving his huge metallic arm to get the other man's attention. Logan's initial reaction was to ignore him as he had done many times with the members of his old team.

No, he wanted to do better. He needed to. It was that kind of behavior that made him spiral in the first place. So he took a deep breath and channeled all jolliness available to him after 6 hours of teaching and a generally low level of it to begin with.  He slowly made his way towards the teacher's table.

“Come, eat with us.” Piotr offered him the seat next to him on the thick wooden bench. A seat opposite of… fuck- of fucking course he was in on Wade’s plan to play matchmaker.

 “We can’t have you get scrawny, eh?” he joked.

“Not that that would be likely to occur” Y/n joked as Logan sat down. His look snapped towards her and her eyes widened in shock at what had just come out of her mouth.

A knowing, wicked grin spread across Colossus's face. That fucking asshole…

“What are we having?” Logan asked, ignoring the situation that had just occurred. He tried to keep his gaze on Piotr who was busy filling a plate with whatever was in the big metal pot on the side of the table. His eyes shifted to Y/n every so often.

“Pierogi. I am trying out new recipes for a cooking class with my students” He said proudly, placing the plate in front of Logan “Y/n said, they are very good. Right?” He asked her, putting the woman on the spot.

“Oh, uhm…yeah. I like the new… stuffing.” She said, the answer sounding more like a question, carefully looking at Logan when he tried it. She was thankful for Piotr’s brotherly demeanor and gentle nature. Yet sometimes he would tease her as any older brother liked to do. And they sure liked to do it in front of people that the younger sibling might fancy.

Logan nodded in agreement, complimenting the man for his cooking.

“You cook here regularly?” He asked with a mouthful.

“Of course! Cooking is a very important life skill. As well as baking. You should join one of Y/n’s baking classes, she is very talented.” Colossus complimented the woman, making her grin.

“I plan on holding a workshop on the weekend for older students and alumni. You should come.” She offered, a hopeful look in her eyes. Maybe she was too discrete the last time she tried to get Logan to ask her out. So this time she tried to be more direct with her offer.

“I don’t bake,” Logan answered in a backhanded comment as he continued to eat. He didn’t think too much about it. He had planned to ask her out after lunch. He was overly focused on what he would say to her once the others left to notice how he had sounded.

It only occurred to him when he saw how Y/n visibly deflated. “Oh, right” She hummed, swallowing another bite of her food, eyes looking anywhere but towards the man who had once again rejected her so swiftly.

Piotr, just sighed with disappointment, leaning back in his chair. His hard elbow bumped into Logan’s side.

You fucked it up. Again.

...

“Okay, stop. You mean to tell me that she tried to ask you out not once but TWICE and you rejected her?” Wade paced through the living room. Trying to make sense of what his friend had just told him. “You mean to tell me that you now spend 3 months at that school? Being in her proximity 24/7 and actively avoiding her?”

Logan sat on the familiar black couch that looked even more beaten up than the last time he was at the flat. With disgust, he realized that he didn’t even want to know what caused the new damage.

 “I don’t avoid her”

“Oh no? And yet the few times she does catch you creeping in the halls you manage to scare her off.” Deadpool said down one of the rotatable bar chairs. Swirling dramatically.

“No wonder the girl’s not interested in a sad drunk fuck like you,” Al commented from the table where she sat, carefully packaging her newest acquisition of sellable goods.

“ No, Al that’s the thing! The girl wants him DESPITE being a sad drunk fuck!”  Wade jumped from the chair to pace around some more. He had to come up with a plan to get the two to spend time together, and get to know each other better. Create some closeness to let the sparks fly and catch on.

“That’s even worse.” Al laughed, snoring.

“Thank you for the compliments… Reassuring.” Logan groaned, regretting to even have answered Wade when he asked him about how things were going with Y/n. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be with someone again. He liked her and wanted to get to know her but something was stopping him. The urge to protect her from danger and he still thought of himself as the greatest danger to her and his team.

“On the other hand, she is still interested after being rejected TWICE. So you still have a chance, Pookie.” Wade said, sitting down next to Logan, yet again way too close.

“I’m gonna help you, buddy, Don’t you worry.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Logan's ears “Act three needs some lovin’ and I make sure you get all the loving you need, baby” He whispered towards Logan. And with dread, and a bit of disgust,  Logan accepted that he had no chance of stopping the man.

...

By the time the midterms rolled around, Logan had gotten familiar with the schedule and his  profession once again. He slept better, tended to snap less at people and even his drinking tendencies seemed to get better. Being part of a community felt good and it made him angry at his younger self for rejecting the people who loved him out of some ill-placed ideology: that to keep them safe, he had to distance himself from them.

And yet you are doing it again.

He sighed as he trotted into the community kitchen. He broke his coffee maker in a fit of frustration last week and hadn’t found the time or energy to tell Charles to get a new one. He stayed out of the professor's way for the most part, not wanting to be roped into some conversation about ‘needing therapy’. So he sourced his caffeine intake from the machine that sat in the big, homely department kitchen. Another benefit was that there was always a fresh pot ready and waiting for him. Downside, there were almost always people in the kitchen, waiting for others to join in for conversation and breakfast.

This morning he should be safe from conversation. Most students and some staff went home for the fall semester break, leaving the school running on a minimal level to accommodate those who had no home to go to. There were no classes, meaning that the school apparatus calmed to a halt.

In practice that meant that almost everyone slept in with no pressure to get up early. And for Logan, that meant that he could enjoy his drink in peace before people tried to talk to him.

Lost in thought he strolled into the kitchen. It seemed empty, thank god. He sighed in relief, stretching languidly. The air exiting his lungs in a low groan.

Then a soft click sounded through the room.

A fridge being closed.

“Oh hey, you’re up early.” Y/n appeared behind the full-size fridge door that had previously shielded her from his view. She looked a little tired, not yet fully awake and a bit tousled from sleep.

Aww C’mon. Maybe Wade was right about the universe wanting them to come together. But primarily to annoy him and allow for Wade to give him the ‘I told you so’ speech.

“So are you.”  He answered, leaving on the door frame and watching her pour some creamer into her cup. Upon closer inspection, she did look younger than her other iteration. Her features were softer looking with fewer wrinkles and scars. He needed to ask her about that at some point.

She leaned onto the counter to reach for another cup, taking it out of the overhead cabinet. Proceeding to pour some coffee in it. “How do you take your coffee?” She asked, turning towards him.

“I’ll take two sugars” He answered, moving towards her with slow even steps. The threat of Wade’s ‘help’ kept looming in the back of his mind, pushing him to be more open towards her and to come out of his shell. Who knows what that maniac had in mind?

Y/n hummed in agreement, dropping in two cubes of sugar and stirring the dark liquid before handing it to Logan.

He thanked her softly, holding the porcelain with his much larger hands. He had moved quite close to her, both leaning against the kitchen counter. The closeness and difference in height between them meant that Y/n had to look up to him, to make eye contact.

With a grin he noticed how she shifted her stand, one hand bunching up the material of her cardigan.

You still got it if you let it happen, man.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying their drinks and watching the sun paint pictures onto the kitchen surfaces, colored by the stained glass windows.

She was the one who broke the silence. “Are you ready for the training session today?” She asked, turning towards him, shifting her position so that her hip was pressed against the counter.

“Training?” He asked confused, setting down his cup to cross his arms over his chest, the muscles shifting visibly under his skin.

That’s right! Show her what you got!

“Yes, staff training? We got the call from Washington about a mutant security threat. Charles wants us to be ready just in case. Do you read your emails?” She teased, watching him over the rim of her mug.

“I don’t know how that stuff works if I’m honest with ya.” He shrugged “Do you go on missions regularly? On Government orders?” He remembered that Xavier had mentioned something along the lines of that. Some complicated struggles between heroes about government regulation and so on.

“Yes, after the blip it was decided that an X-team force should be established to take care of mutant-related threats or endangerments.” She explained.

He had heard of that, too. “Right. What was that blip again?”

The energy in the room shifted suddenly.

Y/n huffed, almost spilling a bit of her drink. “Ha, that’s a bit of a heavy topic for morning coffee talks.” She looked around uncomfortably. Logan seems to have hit upon a heavy subject.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly. Beating himself up for screwing it up once again.

“No, no it’s fine.” She shook her head, setting down her drink to cross her arms as he did. Only that she seemed to do it defensively. “Half of all life stopped existing for five years and… that left a few scars.” She explained somberly, softly nodding to herself.

Logan blinked, his mind moving at high speed to get the conversation on a good topic again. Anything to turn it around and to prevent her from having a bitter aftertaste to their first proper talk.

Yet it was her, once again, that stepped up. She noticed how he got nervous, eyes wandering, shoulders sagging.

“I’ll explain it to you later. When we are not so pressed on time.” She reached out slowly, placing her hand on his arm, squeezing it in reassurance. Y/n smiled at him softly, moving around him to exit the kitchen and prepare for the day ahead.

Without thinking Logan placed a hand over hers, just in time before she pulled hers away. It had her stop in her tracks. Her eyes moved to where his rough callused palm warmed the back of her hand, up to his eyes. He was watching her with intention.

She was nervous. This was either going to be an invitation to finally get to know him or he had enough of her and told her to stop fancying him.

“You can explain it to me on a walk to the lake? Tonight?” He asked, one eyebrow raising in question. His hand squeezed hers gently.

A second of silence followed.

She exhaled, the stress leaving her body but she had to keep her composure. A grin spread across her face “Sounds like a plan.” She held eye contact for a few beats, then let her hand slip out of his hold as she left.

That’s how you do it, Tiger!

Her lips pressed together to keep from smiling too hard as she exited the hallway.

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[jarofstyles]

Lullaby 2

Hey hi hello! We got vampy part 2 coming' at you now. I'm thinking this is a 5 parter, I've been chipping away at it :-) I hope you guys like him.

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Lullaby Masterlist

WC- 6.1k

Warnings- vampires, mention of blood, mentions of familial death etc, H is obsessive n a lil stalkery but he's a vampire so to be expected, slight manipulation on his part, invasion of her privacy, soft h, slight smutty thoughts, etc

————

The Sun setting was one of her favorite views. 

Sitting on the front porch with her book in hand, she had her feed tucked under her to the side as she looked at the blend of fiery orange, saccharine pinks, brilliant yellows and the tiniest bits of purple. The calming of the day, the chaos of lawnmowers, cars running, children giggling and squealing all blending out into a soft quiet harmonized with crickets. The new summer heat lingered but the cool breeze tickled her skin, a welcome relief from the oven of a car she had been in on the way home. Her AC had died earlier today, marking the beginning of a difficult day. 

At the end of it, though, she could always count on the sky to calm her down. The swirls of color fading into the night, twinkly stars appearing as the dotted sky darkened and the moon peaked out to say hello. 

Y/N was a dreamer. Someone with her head in the clouds a lot of the time, theorizing and poetical thinking, wondering what else was out there in the world. What had she not discovered yet? There was this tug in her soul, bone deep, that she was meant for something more. That the other shoe would drop at any moment and her life would be turned upside down. Her dreams were filled with promise, of a world that was a little darker but so much more vibrant. Smells more intense, colors more vivid, taste elevated. In her dreams a few nights prior, she could feel the hands of her lover perfectly, though she had a problem actually seeing them- just a general outline, dark hair, pale skin. Cool hands on her cheek that she nuzzled into, a deep voice drawling out words she couldn’t quite understand but somehow found comfort in. That feeling had soothed her soul, settled that ache in her bones even just for the duration of the dream. 

Her heart hurt when she arose, seeing no lover beside her. No cool fingers brushing hair from her eyes, no soft lips buttoning with her own. It hurt her to crave someone she logically knew didn’t actually exist, but she accepted it. As dreamy as she could be, her logical mind won over in this aspect and reminded her that she’d find her person one day. That her dreams were just dreams, to not mourn the loss of a lover that simply did not exist.

But still, the yearning didn’t stop. 

Her bowl of cherries beside her, she rocked on her glider as she watched people arrive home for the night. Odd? Perhaps. But Y/N enjoyed the art of people watching. Waving to her neighbors who gave her polite smiles before entering their own houses, seeing their own families.

As much as she was grateful to her grandmother for leaving her the large old home that she had many a memory in, it sometimes felt overwhelmingly lonely. There was only so much space a single young woman needed, and even if she thoroughly enjoyed using a single room for a closet, it only reminded her when she laid in the dead of night after waking up over some weird tugging feeling in her chest that bogged her down significantly. That loneliness that felt even more palpable in the way she had no one to try her test batch of cookies and no one to turn over to in bed to show a ridiculous post she saw on social media. 

Sure, she had some friends who would come over and stay the night at times but after her grandmother passed, she had no one. At least of familial relation. Her friends were as close as they could get, but it was difficult to form bonds at times when she was tugged two separate ways. Everyone always left. The want to be so close she was clingy, and the overwhelming fear something would happen and they would leave by their own accord- or not- hindered her from allowing people to get as close as she desired. 

Sometimes she wished her loved ones could have been immortal. Even though it didn’t exist- even if her grandmother told her the stories of the supernatural and paranormal bonds- she wished it did. Wished that someone would never leave her, would love her endlessly. A bond deeper than marriage, no worries of cheaters or boring of her. It may sound a bit crazy, but she wished for complete devotion. Overwhelming love that wouldn’t end.  If only something like that existed in anything but a book. Her grandmother had sort of set her up for failure by planting all those ideas of those all encompassing love stories in her mind.

Sighing to herself, she popped a cherry into her mouth to end her own pity party and went to go back to her book- but a familiar car brought her out of her focus.

Harry was back. 

He hadn’t been home for three days, she had noticed. Not that she was stalking him or anything but she had vowed to herself in her journal and her mind to make more of an effort with him, so his absence had been noted. In some ways she had been relieved to have an excuse so she wouldn’t have to fear rejection but on the other hand she was getting antsy to just get the disappointment over if it was going to happen  

Harry was, for a lack of a better term, dreamy. His voice, the bold structure of his face; the petal pink of his lips. He had the most alluring eyes, shifting between green and gold at times that she had noticed the last time they’d spoken. He was tall and built, large shoulders and tattooed arms she had seen peeks of but not enough to get a full picture. Large hands with thicker fingers and a plethora of rings that would look gaudy on anyone else but with his persona, it simply fit. Slightly mysterious, guarded in a way; but still kind. Classy in a different sort of style that she hadn’t seen from many people around here. The stylish way he dressed even represented bits and pieces of a time that she read of in her books. He was elegant in ways that she had thought of as a movie character, like he was in a different time period and brought here. The elements of vintage tied into his outfits had her thinking he must have an appreciation for history at the very least.

Her eyes took him in as he lifted a worn leather duffle bag out of the trunk of his sports car. It wasn’t the Range Rover she had usually seen, or the Audi, but a bit flashier and sleek. A new purchase, maybe? Nevertheless,  it was a way into conversation. 

“Nice car!” She called over, wincing immediately as she realized how lame that must have sounded. His head snapped over to hers, sunglasses still on his eyes even with the fading light. A tiny smile planted the well of his dimple, placing the bag on top of the now closed trunk. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Skin prickled with chills as he said her name. It sounded real damn nice coming from his mouth. “Would you like to come see it?” He asked politely. Not being able to see his eyes was a little intimidating, but she returned the smile and stood up with her cherries in hand. The least she could do was share her fruit with him if he was letting her see the car.

“Is it new?” She questioned, approaching with her sandals slapping against her feet. Mentally she set a reminder to get different ones that weren’t obnoxious. Getting closer to him she could feel the familiar tingle at the base of her spine, a slight giddiness as her heartbeat picked up the closer she got to him.

“It is, yeah. Had to fly out to drive it back.” He admitted, seemingly taller than the last time they’d talked. How much money did the man have? Surely a decent amount, as anyone in this neighborhood did, but three cars and flying out to get one seemed a bit luxurious to her. 

“Oh wow, that’s some dedication. It looks worth it though. I don’t know a ton about cars but it’s gorgeous.” She nodded, looking it over. The rambling didn’t help her cause but it was pretty much standard when she was nervous. “Oh! Uh, did you want some of my cherries?” Holding the pink ceramic bowl out to him, her eyes looked up at him and saw her reflection in the sunglasses. She wished she could see how he was looking back at her. If she would see any interest. Thankfully she could tell by the smile that he at least seemed slightly endeared. 

“Sure, thank you.” Two of his ringed fingers picked out a ripe one, pinching the small red fruit in his hands, looking down as a bit of the juice dribbled down his thumb. “Did you…”

“Yeah, I pitted them already. Sorry, I didn’t think to warn you. But you’re wearing all black so it shouldn’t stain, I don’t think.” The attempt of a joke had her groaning in her head. Could she act fucking normal? Her mind was a jumbled mess, as it usually was with him, but it seemed to be getting worse. The thought of her cherry stained fingers had come back to her, filtering through the thoughts of wanting to know more about him into a slight shame that she hadn’t thought to have warned the man of dripping cherry juice down the back of his hand. 

“It’s not a problem.” He assured, popping it into his mouth.

Perhaps she needed to get laid, but somehow watching him chew the cherry was better than porn. The slight dark red sheen on his lip, gently dripping down his chin and the clench of his jaw as he worked the flesh of the fruit through his teeth, he let out a pleased hum. 

Y/N saw the path the dribble of juice going further down and before she could think twice, she leaned up on her toes. There was little hesitation as she thumbed over his chin, wiping the juice away. It had been like second nature, invading his personal space like it was instinct.

Her hand froze as soon as reality set in, his chewing taking a pause as there was a moment of bated breath. Bright eyes widened, ripping her hand away like his touch had scorched her. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I have no idea why I just did that.” She squawked, holding her hand up in front of her chest. “That was so rude of me. I swear I don’t usually just touch people like that, it was just dripping down your chin and I didn’t want it to stain more of your skin and-“

“I didn’t say it was a problem.” The vampire murmured, swallowing the sweet fruit. “I didn’t mind at all.” His own thumb came up to brush over the path her digit had taken. It still thrummed with warmth from the human’s touch, his body perking up as he ached to take a step closer. Her scent made a lot of sense considering he had seen her more often than not with bowls of fruit on her porch. Fresh cut strawberries in sugar, watermelon, mango sliced into wedges, grapes, but most frequent were the cherries. It reflected in her sweet scent, sugary but not in a sickly way. Fresh, sweet, ripe like fruit. 

He was glad he wore his glasses because the thought moved towards how sweet she would taste right now. If he were able to just take her gaze and use his slow, deep words and locked eyes to compel her to move the hair off of her neck and tilt it for him, lift her to sit on the hood of the car and let his teeth sink into the throbbing artery in her throat. How the sugary taste would tinge the metallic aftertaste. She’d writhe in his hold and spread her legs for him, give him the option of burying his tongue to lap up the only substance that would be able to compete with the obsession he would surely have with her blood. Maybe even take a bite at the junction of her thigh, leave marks all over her. Punctures to visibly show it and his scent to claim the little human as his own. 

If the glasses weren’t on, it was sure that she’d see the flash of red in his iris. 

“Still.” She said sheepishly. “We are friends but I don’t know how you are with touch and everything and I didn’t have permission, so I’m sorry.”

Harry smiled at that. The little peach, his little cherry, so considerate of other people. She had no idea how he had to dig his nails into his palm to keep from grabbing her and hauling her into him so he could suck off the slight stain on her lips. Bury his face in her throat and inhale her dangerous temptation. 

“I promise, it’s quite alright. You can touch me anytime you’d like.” He took a risk in placing one of his hands on her shoulder, letting some more of her warmth infiltrate his system. The words had been loaded, sure, but he remembered vividly how her journal entry had written about wanting to see more of him. It was his fault, spending so much time with her even if she was asleep. Her body was going to crave him just as much as he craved her. “If you would like, I would be more than willing to take you on a drive sometime.”

This was something of an excuse to see her again, but the creature was overwhelmingly desperate to form a bond with her. As much as he looked forward to watching her sleep, he would rather her be in his bed, soaking his sheets and pillows with her tantalizing scent. The idea of getting close to her was something he had been weighing for a while, but reading her journal a few days ago had clued him into knowing the pull wasn’t just one sided.

The memory of her nuzzling her cheek into his frosty palm, sighing in contentment when he had observed her the night before had him feeling borderline insane- even more than one would be after living centuries, amassing knowledge and watching the world consistently evolve around you than one would imagine. His hand still tingled when he recalled feeling the heat of her skin, knowing she was so full of life underneath him. Finding comfort in the monster that gnawed at his cheek to keep from sinking his fangs into her delectable skin, taste her blood as it seeped over his tongue. If only he could skip to the part where she knew, where she’d crave the venom igniting her nerves. Y/N would be the prettiest little snack he ever had.

“Oh, really?” She perked up, blinking up at him. “I’d love that. When- when did you want to? It’s up to you, I’m free all weekend and stuff but I know you’re busy.” There was a pause. “Or it seems so. I’m not sure why I assumed that.” 

Again, his little human made him chuckle. “I am.” He wasn’t, not right now. He had a handle on his duties, but the majority of the time he was writing. Painting. Looking at properties to invest in on his iPad while curated playlists crooned from the speakers around his house. If only he could imagine such a thing back in 1760 without being accused of witchcraft. Then again, witchcraft was too much for humans even now to comprehend. “But I’d be more than happy to take you out. I don’t… know many people in the neighborhood because of it. A little lonely at times.”

It was actually by his own want, because the less people knew of him around here the better- but he had this insane obsession with this particular human, so she was the exception to his ‘stick to vampires but even then limit your socialization’ rule. 

He knew he was appealing to Y/N’s metaphorical bleeding heart. Manipulation was in his nature. In this case, though, he had no cruel intentions. He wanted to get to know the pretty girl, wanted to have her feel the same amount of lust and obsession he was subject to feel on a daily basis. Humans knew nothing of how intense and passionate a vampire’s affections could be, and for that reason he had been hiding his time. Laying in the shadows and approaching while she slept to soothe the inner beast that insisted he crawl out the window with her body attached to his so she could reside in his house, feast on whatever she chose and allowed him to touch and feed on her as much as he chose. 

She’d like it, he was pretty sure. Once she warmed up to the idea, Harry had high hopes that she would allow him to be as handsy as he wanted. Sex between a pair with a compatible scent was otherworldly. If she were to be with him, he’d need to pace himself and understand his strength, but there was that part of him that still worried slightly. He cared for her. She wasn’t a metaphorical juice pouch for him to snack on like a lot of others his kind referred to humans as. Something he used to laugh at before he scented the girl with eager eyes in front of him. Now he understood why his uncle had fought so much, defending his human soulmate. Eventually he turned her, but during the few years she remained human he had been valiant in his efforts to defend her honor in every way possible.

It was partially why he didn’t tell many people of his suspicions of his bond with his own little human. Already slightly on edge from not being able to hold her the way his body needed, he would not be surprised if he lost it on anyone who snickered at her. 

Buying the car was a strategic effort to get himself to cool off, but it did no good. If anything he was more desperate now. The good news, however, was that Y/N felt his absence just as much. Her hands had touched him like he was hers to touch. His body felt the flush of pleasure just being near her, clenching his fists by his sides to keep from reaching out to her. So close to him, so damn close, but he had to behave. 

Y/N with her tender soul gave him a look of understanding. One that would later make him feel a sickly guilt because he was alone by choice, and the pretty woman was alone because life had dealt her a hard hand. She understood loneliness because it was all she felt. 

“Well you know me.” Her voice was delicate as she looked up at him. “And we can get to know each other so maybe you feel less alone. I know the feeling and it’s hard, but you don’t need to feel that with me. I’m right next door.” Pointing towards her house with an understanding smile, he felt a little more guilt but tried to shove it down. Y/N wouldn’t feel any sort of loneliness if he could help it. “You’re welcome anytime. Just knock.” 

The knowledge that he’d been inside her house more times than she could even count should be something that exacerbated the guilt, but it didn’t. In that respect, he thought of it as a favor to her. Getting his fix without suffocating her with his presence while she was awake was a gift, because if she had even the slightest inkling on how much self control it took for him not to simply steal her away and sink his teeth into her neck, claim her as his soul bonded, she would be terrified. “I will.” Letting himself smile a bit bigger at her, he lifted the bag up on his arm. “How about you come over tomorrow evening and I’ll take you on the drive.” 

He could hear the pickup of her heart. The slightly elevated thumping went harder, the blood rushing to her cheeks as her eyes widened slightly and she swallowed audibly- for him anyways- making him feel the satisfaction in his chest that he had this sort of impact on her. If his heart still beat he was positive it would kick up at the mere mention of her, the slight catch of her scent, but this was progress. Restraining himself now was the hardest thing he had ever done. 

“Yeah! Yeah, that would be awesome.” The human chirped, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. His hand tightened on the bad strap from how the slight movement had wafted some more of her scent towards him. It would be a struggle to control his eyes when they were alone, but going at sundown should be an excuse to keep his glasses on… at least for a little while. 

“Amazing. I’ll be yours at sunset.” 

In more ways than she knew.

Harry let her stumble over her goodbyes, her slightly shaky hands grabbing the bowl of cherries and walking back to her front porch with curious eyes that met his own as she looked back. He knew he wasn’t the only one who felt the connection, he’d seen it written in her journal, but feeling it in real time was surreal. It took the most self discipline he’d needed all week to walk inside his house, dropping himself onto the velvet sofa with a grunt. The place she had touched on his chin to wipe away the ironically deep red juice still held some warmth, reminding him again that she’d touched him. There was no question about the pull, seeing how mortified she’d been at her body's reaction- but it had been natural. It made sense to him that she’d be drawn to touch him. Human resolve was weaker than one of a vampire but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel that overwhelming urge to run to her house and ask to come in right now just to see her. 

Instead, he sat with the french doors open in the back to listen to her go about her house. She hummed to herself, cooked dinner, and took a shower. The humid air floated out of her bathroom window that she kept slightly cracked to make sure it didn’t steam up too much, letting him inhale her at her purest form. When they got together he’d try to find her less strong shampoo and wash so her natural scent could be highlighted, but luckily her intuition had her choosing similar to how she came off to him. Almost like subconsciously she knew what to do to attract him there. 

It was when he heard the scratching of pen to paper that he went outside to wait. In hand he had a warmed bag of blood poured into a crystal glass- a bit pretentious- to calm his nerves. He loved wine, sure, but he needed to be positive his hunger was satiated before going up to see her. If he was being honest, he knew it wouldn’t be until he tasted Y/N, but he had to try. Had to keep her safe in the best ways he could until they passed the threshold of pretending to move around one another and into a courting. 

The plan had never been to take a human as a mate- as it probably wasn’t for any vampire. Humans were glorified bloodbags to a lot of his kind, seen as a lesser being. While he didn’t always share that exact sentiment, he was guilty of caring less for humans in general. They were oblivious to danger, slightly obnoxious, covered themselves in putrid perfumes, loud, uncouth, and fragile. So fucking fragile that it still terrified Harry to touch Y/N. He needed to ensure her safety in any way possible and that meant training himself to touch gently. To hold gently. To avoid any sort of pain that would absolutely wreck him to be the source of.

Humans weren’t ideal mates for that reason. Vampires got carried away during sx, the stamina hot and hard, the passion making it difficult to hide the monstrous nature that laid internally. He knew he’d take Y/N over and over again until she was sleepy and sore if he had the chance. If Y/N allowed him that honor, he could easily spend days locked inside of a room with her with little need to pull his cock from the warm confines of her cunt. It was the dream he had over and over again, yet something he feared. If he lost control with her in the heat of the moment he couldn’t recover. Though he had faith in himself to keep her safe, sex was the one thing he craved and feared the most with her. 

Lost in his thoughts, he watched the light turn down in her room. Never off, as she had a slight fear of the dark. Her bedside lamp turned on, he could hear her breathing start to even out as he jumped over the fence separating their properties and scaled the tree to her balcony. It wasn’t necessary, but the less trapezing he had to do around her home the better. Counting her heartbeats, he waited for 30 minutes for it all to even out and resemble the deeper parts of sleep before he opened the door.

One of these days he would scold her for leaving windows and doors unlocked. It was just like a human to be forgetful of those things, even if it did benefit him. His chest tightened as he walked in to see her body curled into a ball under the duvet. Hair peeking out, she was obviously a bit cold from how she had huddled under the cover of her blankets. A pang of sadness hit his stomach, perhaps a hint of inadequacy because he wouldn’t be able to keep her warm with his body. He could blame all sorts of health issues, but as long as she remained human he wouldn’t be a source of comfort in that way. 

He let out a soft sigh before swiping the journal, settling himself in the chair across from her. A leg crossed over his thigh, lightly tapping his foot in the air as he began to read. 

‘I talked to Harry today :-) He was so nice. Very intimidating in a weird way, but also not. It’s hard to explain. That feeling that makes me drawn to him felt a little stronger, even if I did make a fool of myself. I didn’t think twice before reaching up to wipe cherry juice from his chin, which like…. That was so weird of me. He didn’t seem to judge me for it but there had to be some part of him that was freaked out.’

A chuckle left his throat, whisper soft as his fingertip caressed the words as he read. In his head he could hear exactly how she’d say these things out loud. The journal was an extension of her, a physical example of her stream of consciousness. 

‘Regardless, I’m seeing him tomorrow. I’m panicking, of course, but I think above else I’m really excited. There’s that weird buzzing in my stomach at the thought of him and my chest gets all warm. I haven’t ever spent time with him outside of our talks outside or when he came to get his cat but he offered. I was going to be brave and all of that but thank god he took the initiative. I would have done it… probably. It’s just hard because I don’t think my body has ever reacted to a man the way it reacted to him today.’

Harry smiled to himself at the last sentence. It must be confusing to a human with no idea of what was happening. No clue that it was the universe leading her towards him, making him appealing because he was the one that could give her what she wanted. She was his, the bond he had accidentally jumpstarted starting to fall further into place. The sleeping girl didn’t know how he’d almost moaned at the feeling of her hand on him, how he’d been tempted to suck the juice from her thumb and squish one of the fruits between his fingers to trickle down her neck. His throat tightened at the image in his head, dark red beads moving down her skin, taunting him. His tongue lapping it up, kissing over her pulsepoint before he sunk his teeth in and took a few strong pulls from her artery. 

Swallowing thickly, he went to go back to the journal entry, to read more about her thoughts and excitement about him, but that was interrupted. 

“Harry?” A hoarse voice rang through the air, making his entire body freeze. The flush of cold washed over him as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, droopy and furrow browed. “Am I dreaming?” 

Fuck. 

“Yeah, darling. It’s a dream.” His voice swiftly took on a croon, placing the journal to the desk and standing up from the chair. “You’re alright.” If his heart still beat it would be in his throat and at his feet at the same time, body tense as he tried to navigate this the best way possible. It was too early for her to know he came in here, came to spend time with her even when she slept. It was far too much for her to know he counted her breaths and monitored the beats in her chest. That he tried to give her privacy when she touched herself to get herself sleepy, but he couldn’t help overhearing even when trying to distract himself in his home office. 

“Oh.” The sad sigh had him curious. Was she disappointed? What would she truly do if she knew this was anything but a dream, a sickly reality where a monster was completely and utterly obsessed with her, and wanted to bond her to his side for the rest of eternity. “Can you come lay with me then? If this is a dream I think I shouldn’t waste it with you over there.” 

The vampire wanted to laugh at how completely absurd this was. How fucking insanely lucky he had gotten that her own glass of wine had her more drowsy than normal. This scenario had been his fear from the beginning, but he had to wonder if her body felt the pull more now that she’d touched him. Now, she knew how his skin felt. Contact had been made, and maybe her body felt his presence more than before. “Of course I can.” He smiled lightly, padding over to her empty side of the bed to toe off his shoes. It felt surreal, her heat radiating off of the mattress as he slowly lowered himself down on the sleeping pad that was probably a bit too hard and springy for her. She’d prefer his bed, he was positive. It’d cost a pretty penny but for the times he did want to sleep it was perfection. 

“This is the most realistic dream. I need to lay off the Cabernet before bed.” She yawned, lifting the duvet up and showing no hesitation as she scooted closer to him and laid herself down next to him. “Well, dream Harry, you’re gonna have t’do until the real one wants me. Hold me please.” 

It was times like this that Harry wondered what sort of good karma he’d gotten, especially with how many lives he’d taken,  to get a taste of this. Her body warmth was so delicious, her scent making his mouth water and he thanked whoever was listening in his head that he’d had the intuition to have fed before this. Her body was delicate and soft, turning over for him to lay with her- spoon her. Harry hadn’t done this in a number of years, had never felt the real urge to, but he did it for her regardless. Took her soft flesh into his hands and felt her shiver as she she huddled closer to him. Hot fingers ran over the backs of his hands, slotting in between the spaces. In all his existence, he had never had a feeling to compare to his one.

“Is this alright, Darling?” He asked into her ear, trying his best to remain calm. This was the ultimate impulse control, her thudding pulse right at mouth level. He could hear the blood running under her skin, the pumps of her heart moving it through her system. Digging his canine into his lip, he took deep and slow breaths through his mouth to try and limit temptation. It didn’t take it all away, his head dizzy from the scent surrounding him, but if he took a large inhale of the spot next to her ear he would perhaps lose his mind. 

“Mhm.” She sighed contently. “This is a good dream. Maybe you’ll fall in love with me tomorrow and I can make this real.” The words were said so quiet that he was sure that no human could hear them, but he could. He heard them and committed them to memory. The sweet little human had no idea that he’d been falling for a long time. Y/N took up the majority of his thoughts, owning him in a way that had him feeling like his life wasn’t his anymore. For someone with control issues it had made him furious at first, but the last bit of anger towards her for owning him melted away as she melted into his body, giving herself to him. There was no way he could hold even the slightest bit of resentment when it felt this divine to hold her. 

The only times he had held humans in his life had been to drain them of their blood. To watch the life drain from them as he took it selfishly for his own needs. Never once has it been to cherish one, to commit the feel of her fingers between his to memory. It was overwhelming, as the girl dozed off in his arms, to know that this was merely a taste of what he could have. He needed to charm her, to get her to see that he could give her the love no one else could. Albeit obsessive, possessive, intense, unlike anything a human could give her, he had a feeling that if she had been a temptation for him that the fates had chosen to give him a human who could handle it. 

“I’m going to take care of you.” He spoke softly, not wanting to rouse her from her sleep quite yet. “You are the most precious thing in my world. Somehow you’ve managed to bewitch me, little human. Completely take my heart from my chest, regardless of how dormant it has laid.” Inhaling shakily, he let his nose run along her cheek. “You won’t have to be alone ever again. Not if I can help it. I’ll show you the love you deserve.”

It wasn’t until the bright blue of the early turning dawn started to break that he found himself able to move from her bed. It took three tries and a lot of control when she sought him out, holding tighter to him and whimpering when he went to leave in his first attempts, but he had to go before she woke up. It ached, the thought of leaving her, but he had to. Even though hours later would feel like an eternity, he couldn’t take any more risks tonight. The selfishness he had for staying all night couldn’t be extended to waking her up with sweet words and his mouth. Even though it pained him, the soreness of his chest making it feel even more hollow, he had felt more whole in those hours than he’d ever imagined he could be. 

The melancholy that followed him around, the bitterness, it didn’t go away completely- but it had dulled down to a whisper as he climbed out of her yard. Just hours with her and he felt lighter.   Like his heart started to beat again.