#ask || inquires of the star

[inquirewithbillcipher]

Bill is the only reason Amon hasn't consumed someone's organs

A touch of seasoning helps add some kick!

-Bill

[sorcerous-caress]

Maybe we'll write the first notes that will become the beginning of a song someone will sing for us.

Inspire a set of hands to pick up an instrument for the first time and strum a melody.

Be the echos that linger on the tongue, that someone humms to stride forward.

Writing is a beautiful thing, I will gladly say I'll humm each verse you craft for a long time.

The idea that I'd have any lingering effect on anyone at all makes me feel immense joy <3 thank you so much, this was so beautifully written.

I hope so, I really hope some people would see my writing or read my encouragement for others and get inspired to write their own stories or craft their own art. It's like a chain because I myself was inspired by others to start writing! And other people in the future will be inspired by any of my readers who started/went back to writing because of me.

Even if they don't, it's alright. I'm honestly grateful that they made time to read what I wrote and hear what I have to say.

And I'm thankful for your existence. Your writing style is especially captivating, and you inspired so many things in my blog. <3

[miyasturniolo]

RECORDING | chris sturniolo

pairing: bf!chris x f!reader

summary: when chris stayed over at your place one night while you were home alone, you both started watching a film but as the evening progressed, you both became aroused, but he expressed a desire to capture the intimate moment on video.

warning: smut, dominant chris, pet names (ma, good girl, mama, slut), unprotected sex, swearing, rough sex, hair pulling, use of y/n, praise kink, recording sex, dirty talking, oral female receiving, p in v, nipple playing, fingering, teasing, choking kink.

a/n: not my photos, found on pinterest. I had to mention about the star stickers which the teacher have.

WORDS: 2.3k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange

-

Chris was nestled between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. His eyes were fixed on the film playing, while his hand absentmindedly rubbed your skin.

You ran your hands through his brown hair, giving him a gentle massage that elicited a subtle pleasure, though he would never admit it, he secretly enjoyed when you touched his hair.

The movie played in the background, a choice he made and you agreed to. He fidgeted slightly but remained between your legs, his gaze still fixed on the movie instead of his usual tendency to chatter about it.

The only noise in the room was the Tv playing. "I don't get why people can't just express their feelings. No need for those awkward teenage drama moments," he remarked.

You chuckled softly, continuing to braid his hair, although it was too short for a full braid. "Exactly”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Finally, someone who agrees,” he said. “I swear I would lose my mind if you didn’t agree”

You looked at him before speaking. “You can’t really say anything though, you were a nervous wreck to ask me out”

“I WAS NOT!” He rolled his eyes, he knew he was lying to himself.

You smirked and moved your hands out of his hair, which made him to look at you. “Why did you let go?” He asked.

He noticed you grabbed your phone and saw that you had received a message from someone, which made him frown, though he didn't show it. “Who is it?” he inquired.

“A friend” You simply replied to his question, but you didn't respond to the text. Placing your phone on the bedside table, you then put your hands on his shoulders and began massaging them.

He let out a small moan, initially feeling tense but eventually relaxing. He smiled and rubbed your thigh before turning his attention back to the movie.

The heat of his body against yours as he lay between your legs made him reluctant to move. He reassured himself that he would be fine, especially since he was only wearing boxers.

After five minutes, you shifted your hands so they were on his chest while he leaned against you even though he jumped slightly at your touch.

He couldn't resist the desire for your hands to caress his skin, no matter how warm he felt. His heart briefly sped up before calming down.

"You're so touchy," he whispered, taking your hands from his chest and placing them in his own. "I'm not," you replied.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said, shifting so his head rested on your chest. He continued to stroke your knuckles, but you eventually withdrew your hands, which he didn't seem to mind.

You were not following the movie's plot, but he appeared to understand it. You didn’t know but he wasn’t focusing on it, he was just thinking of what happened if he recorded you two.

"Can I record?" he asked, leaving you confused as he struggled to explain himself. His gaze was fixed on you, noticing your confusion, which made him huff in frustration.

"What I mean is, can I record? You know..." he trailed off, struggling to articulate his request. "Record what?" you questioned.

"For fuck sake. Can we record us having sex? I promise not to share it with anyone, I'm just... turned on and I think it would be different to have a recording of it," he blurted out quickly, his words not going unnoticed by you.

His proposition left you stunned for a moment, but Chris stood by his words. He was eager to go through with it, confident that you trusted him enough not to share it with anyone, not even his brothers, and he wouldn't risk posting it online due to his status as a YouTuber.

"Please?" he whispered, clearly aroused by the idea. The thought of capturing the way he made love to you on and having it on his phone for when you were apart seemed even more enticing to him.

He shifted slightly so that his erection pressed against your leg, silently conveying his desire. He exhaled softly, showing his determination.

“Can you promise to not show?” Your confident tone reflected your certainty that he wouldn't show it, but you wanted to confirm. He nodded and kept his gaze fixed on you. “Alright, go get the camera,” you instructed, kissing his forehead.

Without hesitation, he complied, eager to capture the moment. He was undeniably aroused and well-versed in what to do; he enjoyed hearing your moans and desired your vocal pleasure. He had a repertoire of tricks up his sleeve.

After adjusting the camera angle, he began recording. He had long harbored this desire but lacked the opportunity or courage to act on it. The scene felt reminiscent of a porn video.

Returning to the bed, he climbed on top of you, his eyes locked on yours. Your innocent appearance drove him wild, though he was aware of your true nature.

He started by softly kissing your lips, but soon the air was thick with lust, leading to more passionate kisses. He was clearly eager for more.

Your heart raced as his hands slipped under your shirt and squeezed your breasts, causing you to let out a soft moan that made him pause to maintain eye contact with you.

"Do you like that, ma?" he whispered before planting a kiss on your neck, eliciting shaky breaths from you. "Use your words," he instructed. "Yes," you managed to utter.

He played with your nipples through the shirt from a brand called Fresh Love, which belonged to him. With a smirk, he then removed your shirt, leaving you in his boxers that you found comfortable, while he remained in his own.

"I know you're so soaked for me and I know I'm right," Chris said as he caressed your cheek. "I'm going to make you lose control with how intensely I pleasure your tight little pussy."

“then do it..” your voice was heaven to him.

He slowly released his grip and glanced down before proceeding to undress you completely, exposing your naked body to him. "Fuck mama, you are so stunning. I can't believe how incredible you are."

He was unsure where to begin, your body felt incredibly soft, adorned with fading hickeys from your last intimate encounter.

Before kissing you, he gazed into your eyes as your hands found their way into his hair, causing a whimper to escape him. Despite the sensation, he didn't pull away. "You're so handsome," you whispered, prompting a smile to grace his lips during the kiss.

The kiss lingered a little longer before he gently pulled back to catch his breath, his breathing slightly erratic but he paid it no mind. "You're so beautiful," he replied.

His desire for you was palpable, yearning for the touch of his cock against your skin, or even better, to be inside you. He craved everything, but most of all, he craved you and your happiness.

With that in mind, he guided you to the end of the bed, ensuring the camera could capture both of you. With your legs spread open, he admired your pussy, his blue orbs fixed on it, taking in every detail he adored.

"You're such a good girl for listening," Chris murmured as he ran his thumb over your folds, eliciting a surprised moan from you. "I'll make you climax if you widen your legs," he promised, and you complied.

Once you released his hair, he moved his hand to your thigh, his fingers slick from how wet you were for him, but he didn't mind. Despite your hesitation, he kept his hand on your thigh to maintain the connection.

Suddenly, his tongue traced a teasing path around your folds, eliciting moans from you as you tugged at his hair, causing him to revel in both pleasure and pain.

"Wow, aren't you a fan of hair pulling?" he teased, although he secretly wished you would do it more. Your nails lightly grazed his scalp, intensifying his moans and sending more sensations through your body.

Your essence coated his tongue and soon his lips, ending the teasing. His desire was palpable, his arousal demanding attention.

"Close your legs while I taste you," he pleaded, the vibrations still resonating through your body. You followed his request.

With a slight smirk, he intensified the head game, adding a rough edge that you both craved. He was eager to leave his mark on you.

As he hit the sweet spot with his tongue, you couldn't help but clench in pleasure, your moans like music to his ears.

"You're such a slut for me, and I love it," he murmured, feeling your thighs around him driving him wild. Sensing your impending climax, he intensified his efforts, determined not to let up.

"I'm close..." you gasped, but he only quickened his pace, eliciting even louder moans from you.

Your orgasm left his lips and chin glistening, he loved the way you taste and even more than Pepsi.

Your passionate cries fueled his desire, momentarily forgetting they were being recorded, grateful for the genuine sounds of pleasure you were sharing.

He guided you to open your legs, pulling away with a groan of anticipation, his arousal evident as he prepared to take things further.

"You taste so good," he whispered before kissing you again, savoring the lingering flavor on your lips but soon pulling away. As he laid you back on the bed, he noted, "You look so innocent.. even though you aren’t.”

"The way you look at me makes me want to fuck you roughly until you see stars," Chris says to you, making you smile. "Then you should do it," you reply.

He smirks, kissing your neck and leaving a few fresh love bites on your body, in addition to the faint ones.

"Your words, not mine," he says against your neck before pulling away to look at his body on top of yours, then he takes off his boxers.

Both of you naked, the room filled with passion and love. He was large, maybe even too large, but you didn't mind; he always found a way to make it all fit.

As you lay bare together, with him on top of you, he kissed your lips once more before using his two fingers to stimulate you, "Please, Chris," you whimpered.

The recording was still in progress, indicating that everything was being captured.

"Tell me how much you need me, come on, y/n," he smirked, encouraging you to speak. "Badly," you responded.

He then removed his fingers from your intimate area, kissed your forehead, and slowly entered you with his sizeable length.

You let out a mixture of a painful groan and pleasure due to his size. "Take it slow, you're doing great," he whispered, gently moving your hair aside.

Continuing to push himself into you, he kissed you and whispered sweet words. He grunted and moaned though, trying to maintain control as you felt tight around him.

He caressed your cheek before starting to thrust into you, already targeting your g-spot. "Good girl, ma," he praised as he increased the intensity.

The pain had transformed into pleasure, and Chris found your moans endearing now that it was all about pleasure.

He began to get more intense, gripping your legs as he gazed at you. You looked so beautiful, the way you arched your back and your eyes rolled back; he loved it because he knew he was treating you right.

Your bodies were colliding with a rhythm that seemed endless, and the sounds of your passion would surely echo in a recording.

He grunted as he felt himself losing control, realizing he wouldn't stop even if he tried. It was like a powerful addiction once he was inside you, and he couldn't resist it.

Continuing his movements, he left harsh hickeys all over your chest as well, while your hands explored his back, leaving definite scratches.

"Shit," you whispered, beginning to feel your climax, which made him smile as he could already tell by the expression on your face and the way you were tighter around him.

"Let go for me, ma" he urged, picking up his pace. He grasped your neck, causing your breath to catch and your eyes widen in surprise as he pleasured you thoroughly.

As he continued hitting the spot you desired, you quickly coated his dick and a bit of your bedsheets in seconds. Your moans grew louder as he released his grip on your neck slightly, but still applying some pressure.

He climaxed inside you, letting out a groan and closing his eyes tightly. "fucking hell, ma" he whispered before laying on top of you, still inside you.

Your sweaty bodies pressed against each other, but you didn't mind. You ran your fingers through his damp hair, both of your heartbeats racing, especially yours since he had fully released your neck now, allowing you to breathe properly.

He snuggled closer to you, locking eyes with you. "I love you," he mumbled, his face flushed from the heat.

"I love you too," you replied, causing him to smile as he traced his thumb over the fresh hickeys on your neck and breasts.

You praised him for him for how good he was which he thoroughly enjoyed. He smiled before shifting to cuddle you better, no longer inside you. “I should get those star stickers which teacher have and give you some since you’ve praised me.”

MIYAS MASTERLIST & INFO

[changbinlov3r]

The very first night | L.M.

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Summary: after a few months of dating Minho, you two finally have your very first night.

Genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers

Words count: ± 3,200

THIS ONE AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

If you like my content don't forget to ✨reblog✨

Warnings: virgin!Minho, virgin!reader, very sloppy and eager sex, unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral(F receiving), biting(I think that's all)

A/N: I was reading this fic by @moonlinos and had this thought: "what would be like to have your first time with inexperienced bf Minho" and it came out like this 🥺 I'd like to tell @/moonlinos that I just found out about your blog and your writing is amazing, you're really an inspiration 🫶🏻

You met Minho on your first day of college, you were lost in the campus trying to find the orientation room when you bumped into someone, letting your books and bag fall to the floor.

It was your fault, you were looking around and didn't see the man coming in your direction. You apologized right away, more preoccupied with picking up your things rather than looking in his face but he didn't answer you, waiting for you to properly look him in the eyes.

To say that you two hit it off instantly when your eyes met his, it's an understatement. You even blinked a few times making sure you weren't dreaming. That guy was the prettiest man you have ever seen and it's not even an exaggeration. He was wearing a light pink sweater with a white dress shirt below, dark blue jeans and all stars. It was an outfit that would look average in anyone else but it looked like a masterpiece in him.

You didn't want to let him go so in the spur of the moment, you asked if he knew where to find the orientation for your major, just to find out he was also going there. After that day you two got closer like it was nothing, you were never good at making friends but it seemed so natural with him, like it just happened you didn't have to put a lot of effort into it.

You first realized your feelings for him when he told you he had a date coming up. You felt like throwing up and the ache on your chest just made the whole situation more excruciating.

You avoided him for a week after that, trying to convince yourself that you weren't in love with him or at least that you could pretend not to be in love with him.

When he showed up at your dorm in the middle of the night looking extremely tired, eye bags under his eyes and hair a mess, he inquired why you were being like that and you suddenly didn't want to pretend anymore. You decided in the split of a second that it was worth it to confess to him, so you did.

He blinked once, twice and for a third time, not letting out a single word, making you suddenly regret everything that you said to him. What if he wanted to end your friendship? You don't think you could handle losing him as your friend too.

But in an unexpected turn of events he stepped close to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you.

“I thought you didn't like me back”, he whispered after pulling away, breathless. “That's why I was trying to move on”

You felt relief wash all over you, so he liked you back it seems.

After months of dating, you still hadn't gone beyond kissing and some light touching. You always let things flow in your relationship, knowing that you two would give the next step when you were ready. And it was sooner than you expected.

The end of the semester had arrived, finals were finally over and you could take a deep breath. You and Minho would meet in the cafe in front of the college gates, grab some coffee and go back to his apartment to watch some movies and cuddle. His roommates would be out tonight partying to celebrate the end of the semester and the apartment would be just yours.

“Fried chicken or pizza?” He asks, scrolling on his phone while selecting something to order.

“Fried chicken?” You ask back, making him glare at you. He hates how indecisive you are so he always tries to give you few options.

“Ordered”, he tells you.

“I'm gonna take a shower”, you get up going to the bathroom.

Your bath is a bit longer than usual, you are not in a hurry today since you can stay up all night and sleep all day tomorrow but when you open your eyes there's a surprise in the wall next to you.

“Minho!” You yell, screaming like you just saw a ghost. You grab a towel and jump to the other side of the bathroom, watching as your boyfriend swings the door open, worry in his face.

When he looks at you and sees you are safe and sound, he scowls.

“What is it?” He rushes you, impatiently.

You point out in the bathroom, tears in your eyes.

“Did you make all this scandal because of a cockroach?” He asks, huffing but goes after it and kills it for you.

“You know I hate them”, you make a disgusted face. “They are gross”

He sighs, just now paying attention to you and noticing that you have only a towel covering you. You only remember that fact when his cheeks and ears turn pink and you look down, instantly covering your chest.

“Don't look!” You whine, hiding behind the door.

“Okay! Okay!” He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around and closing the door.

What follows after that is an awkward atmosphere, you are boyfriend and girlfriend but never have seen each other naked. You know it's something that is certain to happen but you never really discussed much about it.

You decide to address the issue when you are already on your second glass of soju. You look at him challengingly, narrowing your eyes.

“I think I should see you without a shirt since you have seen me too”, you tell him. It's not what you wanted to say, you wanted to ask if he ever thought about your first time but the moment you were going to say it you chickened out.

“I haven't seen you without a shirt though”, he says, “you were covered by a towel”

“But that's the equivalent of me being naked in front of you, so now you have to pay me back”, you roll out your words, trying to form a coherent sentence. You're not drunk enough to be doing that but you're definitely embarrassed enough to be doing that.

Minho sighs, knowing you won't drop it. So he puts his hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling it off, revealing his abs.

You can feel your cheeks burning, you have never seen him without a shirt and the only thing that comes to your mind to describe him is: tempting.

You gulped down, feeling a strange pool form in your panties, you can feel it getting soaked.

“I think now it's your time to pay me back”, he raises a brow, making you bite nervously on your bottom lip.

“I'm not wearing a bra”, you whisper, feeling your heart beat faster at each passing second.

“I wasn't either”, he jokes, making you punch him in the arm. When Minho doesn't look away, staring at you intensely, you realize he's being serious about that so you gather all the courage you have, grabbing the rem of your — well, it's actually his, shirt and pulling it off, letting it fall down to the ground as you become completely mesmerized by the look on his face.

Minho has his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, lust emanating out of him. You can see his chest rise and fall at a fast pace.

“Can… Can I touch you?” He asks, looking into your eyes desperately and you nod, watching as he comes closer, cupping your breasts with both of his hands. He's on his knees in front of you, kneading on the soft flesh of your chest. Minho pinches your nipple, groaning when you let a moan escape. He's sure it's the prettiest sound he has ever listened to.

He leans over you, taking your lips into his. The way he kisses you stays the same, calm and gentle. He trails wet kisses down your jaw, to your neck, seizing the opportunity to mark you with his teeth, something he loves to do and that's the closest he has ever been to your chest until today. He goes down tracing kisses till he's in front of your breasts, Minho kisses the hill between them and attaches his mouth to the right one, still massaging the left one, pinching the bud eventually because likes to hear you whimper and sigh.

Your hands go to his hair, pressing him against your chest. You have your eyes closed shut, probably an unflattering face of pure pleasure but you really don't care. Minho sucks at your other breast before going down, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

You're embarrassed, no one has ever seen you so vulnerable like that and you really want to have him go down on you but you're a bit scared since your friends always talk about how guys find it a hassle to go down on girls. You know Minho is not an asshole, he won't want you to do the same to him if he can't pleasure you first.

“Can I?” He asks when he notices your hesitancy, his fingers are hooked at the waistband of your sweats, playing with the elastic while you decide if you'll let him continue.

“You don't have to feel obligated”, you bite on your bottom lip, not very sure on what to do next.

“I don't, I really want to do it”, he says, but seeing as you don't look like you believe him, he chuckles. “Chan said he really enjoys going down on his girlfriend, I wanted to try it since we started dating but didn't know how to ask”, you can see his ears turning a dark shade of red, making your heart beat faster.

You nod, feeling more nervous than before.

“Can we kiss a little bit more?” You ask and he nods frantically.

“We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready”, he says, hovering over you and kissing your neck.

“I'm ready”, you cup his face, making him look at you. “I'm just nervous”, you chuckle awkwardly.

“It's fine”, he gives you a peek on the lips. “Should we move to the bed?” He asks and you nod, getting up as Minho collects your things and his, following you to his bedroom.

It takes you half an hour of making out to grab Minho's hand and pull it down to your core, you lift the waistband of your sweats and panties so his hand can find your soaked pussy. He slides one of his fingers between your folds gathering your slick and pressing it on your clit.

“Is it good like this?” He asks, even though your face should give it in right away that he's pleasuring you.

“Yes, please don't stop”, you put your hands on his arms, digging your nails on his skin. Minho chuckles, doing what you asked but also adding another finger, making you open your eyes in an instant to stare at him with wide eyes. “Oh”, it's the only thing you can let out when you feel the knot forming on your lower stomach.

He kisses you, turning the experience into something much more deeper. By the way he kisses you, no longer the calm and gentle but now an eager and hungry kiss, you can feel how urgent he's feeling, how much he wants you and that's enough to make you come on his fingers.

You take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes just to witness your boyfriend putting his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. You gulp, feeling a burn run through your body.

“Can I go down on you now?” He asks, eyeing you eagerly and you nod, still too dazed by your orgasm.

Minho doesn't lose time, moving to your bottom part and pulling off your pants and underwear with him. He looks at your pussy enamored, like you're the prettiest creature he has ever seen and that makes you embarrassed, moving your hands to cover yourself but your boyfriend shakes his head, preventing you from continuing.

“Don't cover yourself. You're so beautiful, I have no words to describe it”, he tells you, eyes so sincere you can't even tease him about lying.

You nod once more, laying down comfortably as he trails kisses up your legs. Minho kisses your ankles, then your calves. He follows the path to your knees, kissing the inside of each and then going to your thighs, doing the same thing. When he leans down on your core, you hold your breath, feeling his hitting on your skin. You have goosebumps all over your body when he kisses your clit, making you sigh and let go.

Minho licks a huge strip between your folds, gathering all the juice he can get on his tongue, enjoying your taste. You moan loudly, earning a glance from him, he was so concentrated by his own pleasure on feeling your pussy on his mouth that he forgot to check what was your reaction and he's glad to find that you're enjoying yourself, hands flying to his hair as you pull him more into your cunt. He keeps licking your clit, sucking and even biting just to make you shudder glaring at him. He chuckles every time, making the vibrations stimulate you even more.

Minho puts on a finger, testing the water to see how you react, he puts on another one when you look unbothered by just one, earning a reaction from you as you whine and moan. You can feel your second orgasm of the night being ripped out of you, as he intensifies his sucking on your clit and his fingers thrusting inside you.

You let out the louder couple of moans of the night, holding onto the sheets for dear life as you tremble and arch your back in pleasure. You're absolutely fucked out and have no idea how Minho can keep going, his hair is a mess and his lips are swollen, his face is covered on your juice from his mouth until his chin. When he kisses you again, you can feel your own taste on his tongue, making you groan.

You can feel his hardness pressing against your leg. He still has his pants on looking painfully tight.

“You wanna keep going?” He asks and you nod, biting on your lip. “I think Chan has some condoms stocked, I'm gonna take a look”, he starts moving out of the bed but you hold his wrist, pulling him back to you.

“I'm on the pill”, you bite on your bottom lip, “I’ve been taking it since we started dating”, you prop yourself up, leaning on your elbows as you kiss him, “wanna feel you”, you say, making his breath hitch and his face turns red.

He nods, blinking a few times before leaning over to kiss you once more. He gets up quickly, taking off the rest of his clothes and in a second his body hovers over yours as he positions himself between your legs, his cock teasing your entrance carefully.

“If it hurts, tell me”, he checks with you for the last time and you nod. He starts pushing his cock inside you, your hands are holding him by the shoulders, digging your nails on him but he doesn't seem to mind.

He closes his eyes briefly, feeling your velvet walls squeezing him so much it's hard to keep going. Minho stops when he hears you sniff, opening his eyes just to find your eyes full of tears and trembling lips.

“Am I hurting you? You should say it if I am”, he scolds you gently, something only he can do.

“The first time is supposed to hurt”, you explain.

“But I can do something to make it hurt less if you tell me what you're feeling”, he kisses your forehead, having all the care to not move inside you.

“You're already making it so much more comfortable”, you smile, kissing his nose.

“Maybe you should be on top, that way you can have the control”, he tells you and you ponder for a minute, nodding.

He pulls out of you, making you whine to the sudden loss, making you feel empty. Minho chuckles, kissing you before laying down to watch you be the one to come on top of him.

You grab his cock, position it in your entrance and push it in. You're much more brave than him, Minho thinks, but also you're the one who knows how much pain you can handle so it's only right for you to have the control — at least on your first time.

You sink down on his cock slowly, making him grab the sheets rather than your hips, too afraid to put too much pressure on you and hurt you. Your face tells him you're in pain, but he knows there's not much he can do about it other than soothe you. So he caresses your back with one hand and your face with the other, sliding his hands to your breasts and kneading at them so you can at least relax a bit.

When you finally have all of him inside of you, you sigh, staying still for a couple of minutes. Minho feels like he can explode at any second, you're squeezing him like crazy but he doesn't want to hurry you so he waits for you to move.

You start grinding on him, rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone and trying to relax the most. After a while the pain is almost not perceptible and you start riding him at a fast pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good”, Minho says, finally grabbing at your hips to pull you down on him.

You can't really form coherent sentences, so the chant of “ah-ah-ah” followed by your kisses on him and you marking his chest is the biggest form of communication you can manage at the moment.

Minho thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen, he thought that the moment your eyes lock for the first time and he'll think that until you two are too old to remember what you ate the day before.

When he feels like he's about to cum, he warns you and you nod to let him know you understand but keeps sinking down on him even deeper. He paints your walls white while trembling, his bottom lip stuck between his bunny teeth as he holds your hips with such strength that you know it's gonna bruise. But you don't mind, not at all.

You didn't cum this time, it wasn't as painful as it could be but still painful enough to not edge you.

“I'm sorry you didn't finish”, he pouts as you pull out of him and snuggle yourself in his arms.

“You made me come twice”, you chuckle, making him smile before kissing the top of your head.

“But I wanted to do it a third time”, he huffs.

“We have all the time in the world”, you tell him, resting your chin on his chest as you watch him grin.

“Yes, now you're mine forever”, he giggles to your widened eyes.

“Should I be worried?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“You were already mine from the start, you just didn't know it yet”, he kisses you, pulling away just to stare at you for a few seconds. “I love you”, he confesses and you feel your cheeks burning.

“I love you too”, you say, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again.

[bigfatbimbo]

hiiii so i might’ve been stalking your blog for the entire 3 hour car ride :33

can i pretty please request more aftercare fluff w/lucifer? i looove the way your write him!🫶🏻

have a good day/night‼️‼️

a/n — I meant to do this SO much earlier! Anyways i’m super sleepy right now and lowkey just want to write fluff so here’s this!

“Luci, you did so good. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” you coo down at Lucifer as he came down from his high.

It had been a particularly intense night, sex-wise, and it showed on the poor man’s face. He looked terribly spent and drenched in sweat. 

His body was littered with love bites and bruises from you, adding to the pathetic image of him sprawled out on bed.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, “Aw, sweetie, did I go to hard on you?” You massage his cheek with your thumb, he leans into you.

“No it was— god, it was amazing. You were amazing,” He gazed up at you adoringly, “You are amazing.” 

He looked at you with large doe eyes, “Can I help clean up, or anything?” He almost pleaded, desperate to help you.

Warm feelings of affection flooded your chest, “Lucifer,” you draw out, “Baby, you’ve already done so much for me. Give yourself a break, you look beat.”

Contrary to your point, Lucifer felt like he hadn’t done enough for you tonight. He almost felt guilty for receiving your love, especially if he didn’t think he reciprocated enough.

“Angel, please, I wanna help.” His eyes fell on you once again, gazing at you as if you put the stars in the sky.

He looked like a lost puppy, waiting for your command. You took pity on him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the sweetest, prettiest boy ever?” You spoke, words laced with sugar as you leaned down to plant kisses all over his cheeks. 

He giggled dumbly, once again looking up at you and waiting for instructions on how to help.

“How about—“ you think, there wasn’t much you wanted him to do, especially in his state “—how about you sit here and look pretty while I run a bath?”

“My dear.” He warned, drawing out his words in a kinda of whine. 

He didn’t look happy with this answer. As much as you wanted him to take it easy, he desperately wanted to help you clean up.

“Alright, I’ll go run a bath and you freshen up the area, how’s that sound?” you inquire, earning a much more approving expression.

With extra effort, you carefully helped him and yourself off the bed, planting a kiss on his forehead.

He was obviously in pain as he left to go get a washcloth and fresh sheets, but as he was so determined to be of service to you, you let it slide.

You ran the bathtub water to a good temperature and lit some candles around it. When the tub looked, smelled, and felt appealing enough, you called out for Lucifer.

“How’s it going it there, babe? ‘Tubs ready,” you dip your toe in the water before sinking in fully.

“Be there in a moment, my love,” He called back, voice half-gone and groggy.

When he finally shows up in the room, he looks absolutely exhausted. Although objectively cleaner, he looks miles more disheveled than he did before tidying up. 

Once again, your heart fills with love towards the man. He was already tired, and still put forth effort to clean up, just so you had to do less work.

“Come here, sweetheart,” you coo at him, opening your arms and welcoming him in the bathtub.

All but reluctantly, he slinks towards you and practically falls into the water. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him close to your chest.

He sighs and rests his head on you, happily curling up into you in the warm water.

“Hm, what candles did you light?” he asks quietly.

“I think something vanilla-y. You like it?” 

“The vanilla ones are my favorite. I think this is vanilla bean,” He hums softly into your chest. You rub his back your hand and use the other one to fish over the side off he bathtub.

There, you pulled out three oddly specific rubber ducks; a yodeler duck, a chef duck, and a duck that actually blows bubbles out of his snout. These three were Lucifer’s favorite.

He gave a small gasp when you pulled them out and set them into the water. You could see him regaining a little energy. 

“You know, the yodeler one has an interesting back story,” he practically gloated, pulling the ducks close to his chest. 

“Oh?” you question, “Well, please share, then. Don’t leave me on the edge of my seat.” You pull him closer to your chest as he holds the yodeling duck up in the air.

“Well, I actually got the materials in a different layer of hell. The craft supplies was good but the food was terrible there,” he rambled on lazily.

Increasingly drowsily, he explains its back story and how he got to work and little details like that. Every now and then he would look over his shoulder to see if you were still listening, or even cared.

To his surprise, you always were. He subconsciously snuggled further into you. Sleep crept into his words every time he spoke until it was undeniably time to get out.

You were exhausted yourself. You lazily got out of the bathtub and dried off, Lucifer following soon after. 

As to both get comfortable in bed, you rest your head on his shoulder and realize he had brought the ducks with him.

“Can I— can I keep explaining?” He asked timidly, yawning afterwards.

You pull him close and wrap your arms around his stomach, “For as long as you’re awake, sweetie.”

He smiled, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he was passed out. Just as suspected, in few short minutes of Lucifer’s rambling, you were both sound asleep. 

a/n — okay I HAVE to get some Vox content out after this because I have been lacking so much. There are lots of requests so expect more of him soon.

[sage-nebula]

I've watched pretty much all of Jenny Nicholson's videos (despite not being into most of the things she's into) for a variety of reasons, but one of the reasons I watch her content is because I think that she seems like a truly stand-up kind of person. Of course, given that she is a person creating content for YouTube, we're only allowed to see the version of herself that she wants us to see. I'm under no illusions about that. But the version of herself that she presents to us, the viewers, seems to be a person who is not only genuinely passionate about the things she discusses (and honest about why she'll hold back on discussing certain topics when fans of those topics can be awful about it), but also who considers the experiences of (for lack of a better phrase) the average person when it comes to the theme parks and other experiences that she reviews.

Three specific instances come to mind: one from the Evermore video, and then two from her most recent Star Wars hotel video. (Side note: she was so, so right that Disney marketing is stupid as hell for not letting influencers et cetera use the common names for things. The average person doesn't know what "Galactic Starcruiser" is, but will understand "Star Wars hotel." Get it together, Disney.)

In the Evermore video, Jenny talks about how she emailed Evermore Park ahead of her visit to try to get more information prior to her visit. Things like whether there was a dress code, what she could expect when she arrived there, information that should have been readily available on the website but wasn't. She mentions that she could have mentioned that she's an influencer and that she probably would have gotten a response (because they never emailed her back), but that she deliberately chose not to.

"So I did attempt to email ahead of my visit, trying to ask basic questions about the park and inquire about renting it out. When I did that, I was intentionally vague; I didn't link my channel, and I didn't use my primary email. And I sort of suspect that if I had done the whole influencer song and dance -- said my channel name, my subscriber count -- I might've had better access to the park, and perhaps even a better experience. But that wasn't the point. I didn't want to call ahead. I'm the mystery diner! I'm the undercover boss! If you can't deliver an equivalently good experience for all guests, that's on you and your business." [x]

Then, in the Star Wars hotel video, there were two instances in which Jenny had to reach out to Disney customer support for assistance, and received absolutely nothing in return. The first was when she paid for a photo taking service, but had absolutely no photos taken of her. When she reached out to Disney customer support for a refund, they refused to give her said deserved refund. The second instance was when she had purchased a large droid figure from the hotel, and had it shipped to her house via the Disney shipping service. The Disney shipping service inputted her address incorrectly (in fact I think she says they put in a completely different address altogether), so her droid was lost. Once again she reached out to Disney customer support to find out what she could do about this expensive item she had purchased, only to be told that they couldn't do anything to help her.

In both cases, Jenny took to twitter to post about how Disney was refusing to a.) issue her a refund for a service she paid for but never received, and b.) help her receive an item she'd paid for but never received. Both times, Disney reached out immediately, issued her the refund, and overnighted her lost item. Jenny correctly identifies that they only did this because she's an influencer with a large twitter following, and has this to say in the video:

"They didn't even ask for my phone number. Like someone at Disney just did the legwork to go into the database, look up my booking info, find my phone number and then call me within a day of the tweet going out. And the person who called me was really nice, and I'm thankful he cared to resolve it. BUT, I just always feel very cynical when I try to resolve issues through the appropriate channels available to all customers and nobody will help me until they find out I'm an 'influencer.' I spoke with several other guests who got [the photo taking service] and had the exact same problems as me, and they never got refunds." [x]

And

"But then after I tweeted about it on my twitter account with a lot of followers, Disney suddenly resolved it and they sent me a replacement. They actually overnighted it to me. And along with it they sent a lot of miscellaneous goodies which I really appreciated. So here again, I feel if this had happened to anyone without a lot of twitter followers, they would have had a significantly more frustrating experience." [x]

I feel that this post will probably read as giving Jenny kudos for doing the bare minimum. And I think that on some level, that's true. But it's true because nowadays, many influencers won't even do the bare minimum. They would have Disney immediately issue them a refund, or overnight the droid to them with the additional goodies, and then make posts gushing about how great Disney's customer service is, despite knowing full well that the (again for lack of a better term) average person who doesn't have a huge internet following would never receive that kind of support from Disney. Similarly with Evermore, most influencers would call ahead and flex their follower count to try to get a bespoke experience to then show on their channels. They wouldn't want the same experience everyone else gets. That won't generate good content, in their eyes, and besides, they're better than that. Don't you know who they are?

But Jenny, despite her follower counts, keeps it real. Yes, she appreciates that Disney did give her the deserved refund and did send her the droid + gifts. But she also points out, both times, that if she'd been a person without a large twitter following, they would not have done that, and people in the exact same position she was with the photo service didn't get their deserved refunds. With Evermore, she didn't call ahead because she DOES want the same experience everyone else gets. She wants to be able to give a genuine review. Whether that review is positive or negative is dependent on the business itself.

Again, this probably seems like giving Jenny kudos for the bare minimum of decency. And I agree that on some level it is. But I also think that, in today's day and age, we really don't get that with a lot of influencers, who are in it for the sponsorship money (and who get their egos way inflated), and so it's nice to have a reviewer / theme park influencer who is honest with her opinions, and who recognizes that yeah, Disney did give her special treatment, but that it shouldn't have been special treatment, that they should be helping all of their guests like this, through the normal channels that she tried using, and they are a shit company for not doing that.

I just really appreciate Jenny.

[pomefioredove]

mirror

summary: vil falling in love with you type of post: short fic characters: vil schoenheit additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, takes place during/after book 6 author's note: vilyuu is such a good and underrated dynamic I'm never not obsessed with it. always thinking about him. holding them like dolls making them kiss mwah mwah

One might be bold enough to assume that actor and model Vil Schoenheit had been a victim of Eros before.

With the world under his thumb and millions of adoring fans at his beck and call, it was easy to fantasize about the image of a shining star that had left a string of broken hearts behind him. His persona of perfection gave off such a dazzling impression that any other truth is simply unimaginable. Beautiful, talented, devoted...

...Untouchable to such a degree that the very truth of the matter was that Vil Schoenheit had never been in love. He had no use, let alone time, to indulge himself in something that he found distracting at best and frustrating at worst. For most of his life, romance was nothing but another part to play, a frustrating rumor to dispel, a disaster to witness, something that nagged at him from the outside yet never made itself a home within him.

This idea of the confident heartbreaker Vil Schoenheit was nothing but a reflection of the image he put out, shone back at him by tabloids and fan accounts. It was a hollow interpretation, fueled by fantasies of a Vil that didn't exist in flesh and blood. And so, every time an invasive interviewer or pesky reporter inquired about the state of his personal affairs, he answered truthfully: Vil Schoenheit could easily go throughout life focusing solely on his career, on improving himself, and not miss out on anything at all.

There have been very, very few things that Vil has called himself an idiot over. That answer was one of them.

Because the very second he saw you again after being separated by Styx, the want to smack you for being so reckless in coming after him was only secondary to his want to hold you and cry until his water-proof mascara was running.

Love is such a strange emotion. Vil could never understand why Rook was so obsessed with it, how the vice housewarden fell in love with every beautiful person he saw. For his whole life Vil thought it to be painful, to be distracting, to be finite and often times nothing but a shallow reflection of all of one's ugliest traits.

And now, it made him feel weak and messy. He hated feeling messy.

...And yet, what he wouldn't do to have his lipstick smeared over your mouths. To have you see him with his hair undone and eyes bleary with sleep, and to see you in that state as well. It was not the time, nor the place, but he wanted to cradle you in his arms until this terrible, sickly feeling of longing you'd left him with went away.

For the first time in his life, Vil was suddenly terrified of being alone.

No, not alone- he was terrified of being without you.

To never see your smile again would be a fate worse than death, worse than growing old and haggard. How terrible to think that just one simple person could so easily undo everything about him, and yet, he wanted more of that very feeling. He would unwrap himself layer by layer for you if you asked, taking off all of the years of discipline and poise, and lay vulnerable before you so that you could be soft and simple together. Vil had always regarded romance as difficult, but falling in love with you was surprisingly easy.

He did not have to save Grim from the Underworld, despite what he claimed. Such a risky move cost him everything he loved, everything beautiful about him, everything except for you. And as much as he mourned for himself, he knew he would do it again and again if it meant saving the smile on your face.

And perhaps he was too wishful with his thinking, but he could have sworn he saw that same familiar glimmer of affection and admiration in your eyes when you met his gaze. As if you couldn't even see the pasty, wrinkled mess he'd turned into, and were peering at something behind it.

It made him feel utterly exposed and offered him no comfort, but the thought that you were looking at something not even he could see lingered in the back of his mind, even after his magical energy was rejuvenated.

He had become so familiar with everyone around him being a mirror, reflecting his carefully crafted image right back at him, showering him with two-dimensional praises, that being seen as an object of flesh and blood and tears was a strange notion. To behold his presence and see a person with wants and needs and flaws rather than a flat surface, a decorative magazine atop a coffee table, left him with a strange feeling in his chest. The thought both bothered and warmed him.

Vil Schoenheit was so hopelessly in love with you, and it didn't hurt. It wasn't difficult or ugly or forced, it took not even the least bit of effort. He sunk into the feeling like a warm bath which never grew colder, and he let that be his new reality. It felt strange to imagine that there was a time where he didn't love you, where he didn't look at you as if you were the moon itself, where you weren't such a part of his being that he couldn't imagine life without you.

And he never expressed these feelings in words. They existed inside of him, running through his veins like the very blood that kept him alive and warm, and they weren't distracting, just another part of him that he kept tucked away to occupy his thoughts on rainy days.

...But the best part of it was that he didn't need words. Because when you looked at him, when you saw the Vil the not even he could see, you could already tell they were there. The mirror, the pane of glass that had always existed between himself and others, was non-existent for you.

Vil thought that someday he might be able to see himself through that glass the way you did, but he was perfectly content with simply looking at you instead for the time being.

[ghouljams]

I beg of you, please, more King!König. I’m literally OBSESSED with your writing rn.

You've never been particularly graceful when it comes to dancing. You can parade and walk with elegance, but somehow when you're waltzing it all flies out the window. Your dance card fills and empties quickly as you struggle not to step on toes or pull your partner down on a dip. Your fiance always has some back handed comment, always asks why you even want to dance when you're so terrible at it.

Maybe you just want to. You like dancing, the idea of dancing at least. Is that so wrong?

You stand at the edge of the dance floor, watching your fiance work the room. One of your friends spins past and you flash her a smile so she doesn't worry over you. Everyone seems to worry over you except the person who's supposed to. You scan the room for anyone that might be interesting to talk to, it feels like most of the evening has been overshadowed by the royal guest. There's a throng of unmarried women trailing after him. They hardly need to, he's impossible to lose when he's a head taller than half the men in the room.

"Fräulein," A voice behind you inquires. You jump and turn to look up, up, up at the king. You dip into a curtsey on instinct, head bowed. He clicks his tongue, impatiently, and raises you with a thick finger under your chin. The warmth of the touch pools through your skin. He tips your head back to meet his eye, his gaze challenging you to look away. You don't want to. "You're not dancing," He states it, but it's a question still.

"I'm-" You smile, shake your head with a self pitying fondness, "I'm famously terrible at it, my fiance won't even fill my card." You hold up the empty paper to show him, though you can't say why. Perhaps you want König to commiserate with you, after all you have yet to see him dance.

He plucks the card from your fingers and one of the men next to him places a pencil in his hand, "Your fiance is a fool." The way he says it, spits the word "fool", the inflection on "fiance", they sound like insults. Worse insults than if he'd sworn. He hands you your card back, every line neatly penned with his name.

You're still looking at your dance card in disbelief when he leads you out to the dance floor. His large hand settles on the small of your back, the other enclosing your smaller hand as he readies you. You blink up at him, and he smiles at you. No one has ever looked at you so warmly before. You almost feel bad you're about to stomp on his feet.

Except that you don't. König moves you effortlessly, anticipates where you might misstep and redirects your feet. You've never felt so... elegant. You may as well be floating across the dance floor, his hands on you the only things keeping you grounded. He lifts you without struggle, dips you without flinching, he spins and catches you and you fit in his arms like you were made for him. By the end of the dance you're breathless, giggling like a little girl, absolutely giddy with how much you'd enjoyed it.

"A bad dancer," König shakes his head, almost fondly, "You only needed someone to lead you properly."

You laugh, press your gloved hand against your cheek to try and cool the heat there. He watches you with a hum, tipping his head, his eyes looking down on you. He almost makes you feel bashful, his gaze warmer than the blood under your cheeks and twice as promising.

"Thank you," You tell him earnestly, "I've never gotten to- you've given me a wonderful gift, but you must have other ladies clamoring for a dance." You glance over your shoulder at the smoldering glares that follow you. Again König drags your focus back to him, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I would give you the moon and all the stars in the sky, Liebchen," His thumb strokes gently over your skin, "what do I care about other ladies, when I have you in my grasp?"

His eyes bore holes into you, the burn with something dangerous, animal. Something in their spark scares you a little. You open your mouth to say something and your fiance grabs your elbow to pull you away. König lets you go, despite the rage that flashes over his face. Dangerous, he's dangerous, you remind yourself. A king that poached his throne from his father. A king crowned in blood.

"You majesty," Your fiance only seems to care for you when someone else shows him there's something to care about, "I believe it's my dance."

"Is it?" König asks, uninterested.

"And my fiance," He presses, his lips curling unpleasantly.

"Is she?" König chuckles, "I could have sworn she was mine. What a pity."

[smileysuh]

ghost house

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric. It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh. Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties. You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

tw/cw. Voyeurism, unprotected sex with a ghost, Hyuck is a repressed perv, he’s not a virgin but he’s not experienced either, pantie sniffer Hyuck, Hyuck watching y/n masturbate using ghost powers, Hyuck using y/n’s panties to cum in, weird ghost cum, Hyuck is a switch but leans more submissive at parts, self asphyxiation/choking, y/n punishes Hyuck for being a naughty ghostie, making Hyuck watch her masturbate without touching himself, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk/addict hyuck, overstimulation, hair pulling, hyuck cums and y/n decides to keep riding him, hyuck likes to be choked, dirty talk, hyuck has a good boy kink, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, finger sucking, face riding, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (Haechan’s) ghostie, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.3k

🍭 aus. ghost!hyuck, witch!reader, supernatural au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've never written Hyuck this subby/switchy, but I think it worked, he still has his dom moments, but this man is a near virgin, little, repressed for 20 years ghost shit head who wants to be told he's a good boy, and I'm not even mad about it

Prologue:

“It’s a little unusual for prospective tenants to bring a pet along,” the shy man showing you the house murmurs, watching the way your cat follows you through the halls of the old building.

“Well, it’s important that Pluto likes it here,” you muse, casting your gaze down to your little dark shadow as he darts here and there, chasing orbs and specks of dust that illuminate in the rays of sun streaming through the murky windows. “How long has it been since you had a renter?”

“Too long,” Mark Lee sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “In all honesty, I’m sure you know the reputation this place has.”

“It’s the Ghost House,” you respond, turning to stare at the relative of a man who’d lost his life in this location twenty or so years ago. 

“My family hasn’t even tried to rent it out in recent years, but then you found me on Facebook and asked for a showing, I figured, what could it hurt?”

“I guess you don’t believe that this place is haunted?” you inquire, studying the tired, mundane man while Pluto curls around your feet.

“I haven’t spent enough time here to decide what I think,” Mark admits. “My family needs income, and if you’re willing to rent this place out, for half of what you could find anywhere else, we’d love for you to take it. Ghosts, or no ghosts.”

“I’m betting on the ghost aspect,” you tease, looking down at Pluto and following his gaze to a shadowy form at the end of the hall. “I’ll take it.”

One

You’ve been in your new Ghost House for over a month, and in that time, Hyuck has realized you’re no ordinary tenant.

It had started with the way your cat reacted to him, following him around, not scared in the slightest. And then, Hyuck had noticed the way you’d tracked your black cat Pluto with your own eyes, using the animal to try to focus in on Hyuck himself.

At first, he’d thought you were some sort of clairvoyant or wanna-be ghost hunter, but then, you’d pulled out a Grimoire and a cauldron and Hyuck had realized you were more along the lines of a witch. 

When you’d first moved in, Hyuck had relished the idea of haunting you out of the house, but now he finds himself to be the one that’s haunted.

He can’t get a moment's peace without your cat following him all over the place, and where your cat goes, you quickly follow. Hyuck has taken to going to the attic, where the door can’t be pushed open by a determined kitty. He fucking hates the attic.

He’s sitting amidst some cobwebs, contemplating how badly he’d fucked up in life to get to this situation, when the attic door creaks on its hinges.

Your head pops through the hole. Your gaze shifts around, and Hyuck could swear your irises look exceptionally feline-esque when they land on him. “Why are you hiding?”

You can’t actually be talking to him. You can’t actually be seeing him- it shouldn’t be possible, and yet, here it is, happening.

“Come now, Donghyuck, are you skulking?”

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“Is that any way to speak to a witch who’s here to help you?” you laugh.

You’d definitely heard him, and the realization makes a cold shiver run up his spine. Hyuck stands up, approaching you. He waits for you to flinch or pull away, but you don’t, you simply watch him until he’s a few feet away.

“How are you seeing me right now?” he asks.

“I’ve been testing out spells with personal objects of yours that I’ve stumbled upon in the house, nothing works quite like a photo, I’ve found,” you explain. “It’s good to finally see you. I’d hoped to meet you properly within the first week, but it’s been a whole month now of us living together, which feels awfully rude of me.”

“What’s rude is your stupid cat following me around everywhere.” When Hyuck takes a peek down the attic entry manhole, he finds your feline friend at the foot of the ladder, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Pluto is just doing his job, he was raised to see spirits. The Roman God of the Dead is his namesake after all.”

“The Roman God of the Dead?” Hyuck’s nose scrunches up in distaste. He flunked grade twelve, not that Roman deities were on the learning agenda.

“Forget about it, would you like to come down and talk with me for a while? Now that I can see you and communicate, I think we should have a chat.” You study him carefully. “Although, I will note that until I find a better spell, I’ll only be able to see you like this until your photo stops burning, which could be ten minutes or twenty.”

The pathological demand avoidance in Hyuck makes him want to refuse you, but at the same time, he hasn’t spoken to anyone in over twenty years, not since that night when everything had gone so wrong- 

It helps that you’re a cute girl.

With a sigh, Hyuck agrees, following you down to the living room where he finds a makeshift alter, his picture in the center of it, its edges charred. The space smells like some sort of incense, Hyuck can’t pin it, and for the first time in twenty years, Hyuck actually feels something akin to fear.

As the Ghost of the House, Hyuck has always been the one with the power. He’s been the one who scared off the first few tenants with knocks late at night, phone calls in the early hours, and even wearing a sheet to scare off the children young enough to be susceptible to seeing him.

But in this situation, sitting on the nicest chair in the room, your cat lounging on your lap, Hyuck realizes that the power of a ghost is no match to that of a witch. You look like a Goddess, or a queen- energy radiating off of you now that you’re near your alter, and it makes Hyuck’s skin tingle.

“So?” Hyuck asks after sitting in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages.

“So?” you echo, quirking a brow.

“Why are you here?” he clarifies with a huff of frustration. “Why are you trying so hard to communicate with me?”

“I’m mostly here because the rent is less than half of what I could get anywhere else, and it’s a whole house, so that felt like a no-brainer in this economy,” you laugh. “Although, seeing as you’ve been dead for over twenty years, I’m not going to give you a lesson on rent increase and the cost of living in this day and age. As a witch, I thought this would be a very interesting house to live in, and I’ve been trying to communicate with you, because the way I see it, you’re practically my roommate. We share this house, and I’d like for things to go smoothly.”

“Smoothly,” Hyuck lets out a laugh.

“If you’d rather I exhume your remains and send you to Hell, that can be arranged too.” 

Hyuck feels his throat go dry. 

“That’s what I thought,” you grin. “So what do you say, roommates?”

“Fine. But I’m tired of the attic.”

“You put yourself there,” you point out.

“Look, you be nice to me, I be nice to you,” Hyuck suggests. “Fair?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Ghost boy.”

Two 

Living with you actually isn’t so bad. Hyuck’s gotten used to Pluto following him around, but you generally keep to yourself, and he appreciates that trait.

Sure, you get up to witch mojo, and the house smells like all sorts of herbs and shit half the time, but Hyuck has taken to living mostly in the room that used to be his own. He prefers the south-facing space to the dark attic, and although life is boring most of the time, it’s still better than whatever afterlife Hyuck could expect as a man who accidentally took his own life at the ripe age of twenty-three.

Sometimes he likes to come see what you’re up to. He’s taken to watching you cook breakfast and dinner for yourself. You play music he’s never heard before, and the way you shake your hips always has his heart racing.

Pluto notifies you of his presence, but without an alter burning, he’s pretty sure you can only see his outline at best. You clearly don’t mind an audience, and Hyuck spends hours every week simply enjoying you.

It’s interesting to have a roommate that acknowledges him, a roommate that keeps the peace. But at the same time, part of Hyuck misses his old poltergeist ways.

You’ve reformed him. He’s a reformed ghost now, and Hyuck isn’t quite sure what to make of this peaceful living arrangement. It’s much more peaceful than things had been when he’d been alive.

He’d never had a girlfriend. Never had someone to create a sense of belonging, and somehow, he finds that much-needed peace with you. He wonders what life could have been like if he hadn’t taken those drugs that fateful night, if he hadn’t been so lonely that it hurt everywhere, if he hadn’t tried to dull the ache with pills.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” your voice draws him out of his pining thoughts, and you turn from the soup you’re making to stare in his general direction. “I can see your outline, dance with me. You always just stand there and stare, be a good Ghostie Boy, and shake your ass a little.”

Your words make Hyuck’s skin heat. He’s a ghost for Christ's sake, you can't go around objectifying him like this-

“Just a lil swivel,” you grin, showing him with your own hips.

Fuck. You’re hot. You’re so fucking hot, and Hyuck is tired of pretending you’re not. 

He begins to shimmy, and he’s rewarded by a melodic giggle that escapes you and fills the kitchen. “That’s it,” you encourage him. “I know you’re not used to this kind of music, but it’s fun!”

Hyuck has to admit that he’s been enjoying the crash course in new media you’ve been giving him. From music to movies to books he haphazardly reads over your shoulders- this new age is something else, and it’s full of uncensored raunchy sex that makes him hornier than he’d ever been when he was alive.

The music you’re listening to is full of explicit lyrics, lyrics about eating pussy, and a pretty girl riding a man’s face- it’s been driving him wild, and in the late night hours, when you’re peacefully asleep one room over, Hyuck hasn’t been able to help himself.

He’s been stroking himself to the thought of you lately. He’s wondered what you’d taste like, what your body would feel like under his hands- He wonders what faces you’d make, the sounds-

This life is a little bit of Heaven, but a little bit of Hell too. 

He can’t touch you, can’t taste you, can’t fuck you the way he’s been wanting to-

Leave it to him to fall in love with a sexy witch and add to his own torment. 

Three 

Hyuck can hear your whimpers through the wall. The sound makes his entire body tingle, and before he can stop himself, he’s shrugging his jeans down and wrapping his hand around his aching cock.

Your sex drive hasn’t been as… intense as his, in fact, he’s not sure if you’ve ever touched yourself since you moved in. Or maybe, you’ve just been quiet, it’s hard to tell.

When you’re in your room, Hyuck gives you privacy. Pluto would probably alert you to his presence if he ever did try to get a look at you naked, and Hyuck doesn’t want to risk your witchy wrath.

But tonight? Fuck, hearing your sounds makes him want to risk everything.

Going to Hell would be worth it for a look at your form.

The ghost shuffles closer to the wall, taking deep breaths as he strokes his aching cock. 

One peak won’t hurt, will it?

Hyuck doesn’t often walk through walls or make use of his ghostly powers, but it’s simple enough for him to push his head through the wall. He just goes as far as his face, keeping himself half-suspended in the barrier between rooms.

Your space is dark aside from a few candles burning, and it takes Hyuck a moment for his eyes to adjust. His gaze lands on you, tangled amidst your bedsheets.

You’re naked, head dipped back against the pillows, one hand between your thighs while the other pinches at your nipples.

Fuck, Hyuck almost busts then and there. He has to stop the motions on his cock, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Pluto is nowhere to be seen, and with your eyes closed, the room mostly dark, Hyuck doubts you’d see his outline even if you did look directly at the one space along your wall that he’s watching from.

This is the perfect scenario for him, and he licks his lips as he watches the way you tease your clit, letting out soft whimpers.

You’re wet, Hyuck can see how wet you are, and it makes his mouth water with need. His cock throbs as he begins to slowly stroke it again, teasing his thumb along the tip.

The way you’re pinching at your nipples is making the ghost want to mark you up with his teeth. He wants to bury his face in your chest and lick you, sucking your perky-looking buds until you’re begging for him-

A movement of your other hand captures his attention, and Hyuck watches as you slide one finger into your core, releasing a moan that has his entire body shaking.

One digit quickly becomes two, and as you stroke your inner walls, the sound of your wet heat becomes audible to the fly on the wall, who pumps his shaft even harder. 

Your hips begin to wiggle against your own touch, and Hyuck wonders how good you’d look on top of him, writhing against his cock-

You release your breast in favor of playing with your clit, both hands now between your beautiful thighs. From the sounds escaping you, Hyuck thinks you’re close, and his entire body aches. He tries to slow himself down, he wants to match your speed, wants to reach that climax with you-

Something brushes by Hyuck’s leg and he jumps, tearing himself out of your room to look down at the cat who’s appeared by his foot. “Fuck, not now, Pluto,” he hisses.

Pluto purs in response, and with an exasperated sigh, Hyuck decides to ignore your cat. Fuck it, he needs to cum, and he needs to be watching you cum-

Pushing his face back into your room, Hyuck manages to catch you just in time to see your back arch. A soft gasp of contentment leaves your lips, your hands shaking as your orgasm rushes over you-

Hyuck can’t help himself, his own body simply reacts, his cock throbbing intensely as his own release hits him. He bites down on his lip, pumping his shaft with his eyes glued to your form.

You ride out your orgasms together, and yet, apart. 

You’re a scary witch, but you’re none the wiser about the ghost voyeur committing every one of your movements to memory. 

Finally, Hyuck can’t take the sensation anymore, and he stops, pulling his head out of your room. He’s no stranger to ghost cum, it’s this odd, translucent goo-

When he looks down after pulling up his pants, Hyuck realizes he’s sprayed the wall, and narrowly missed Pluto, but the cat is looking at his spunk as if he can see it-

Hyuck’s never had an animal in the house before. He knows that usually, his ghost jizz disappears after a while, but if the cat were to try to touch it-

“Pluto, no!” Hyuck whispers, trying to block the animal with his hands.

The cat has brushed by Hyuck before, so Hyuck’s pretty sure the cat won’t go through his hands-

Instead, Pluto tries to go around Hyuck’s hands, and the ghost’s heart lurches in his cold chest.

“Fuck, stop!” he says, voice getting louder. 

The cat meows obnoxiously, and Hyuck hears a sound in your room-

Hyuck doesn’t have time for this, he’s not about to get caught one room over after you’ve just orgasmed. The ghost does the only thing he can think of doing, he jumps down to the ground to hide behind the bed. 

Luckily, Pluto seems more interested in him than his ghost cum on the wall, and begins to follow. The bedroom door is pushed open, drawing Pluto’s attention from following Hyuck.

“Pluto?” you call. “What are you doing in here?”

Hyuck can feel his heart in his throat, and he cowers further under the bed, afraid that if you see any of his shadowy figure, you’ll exorcize him or something. 

There’s a few moments of tight tension, and then Pluto pads away from Hyuck to join you at the door.

“Silly kitty,” you coo, picking up your pet. “Let’s go make you some dinner.”

The door closes behind you and Hyuck lets out a deep breath.

That had been much too close for him.

Four 

It’s been about a week since Hyuck watched you finger fuck yourself to completion, and he’s doing his best to avoid you. He gets a half-chub every time he looks at you for Christ’s sake, and while part of him feels justified in his voyeurism - he is a ghost after all - another part of him feels dirty about it. 

Hyuck feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders every time you leave the house, and today, he watches you get into your car and drive off before he heads to your room. He’s been curious about a few things, but you hardly ever leave the property, so he hasn’t had the time and the balls to follow his wishes until now.

Your bedroom door is closed, and it’s as easy as stepping through it for Hyuck to invade your space.

He tries to calm himself, tries to take his time looking at items you’ve collected. There’s a stack of books that thrum with power, he stays away from them. Jewels and crystals litter a vanity table also covered in various perfume bottles, and Hyuck bends down to smell one, overcome by the scent of florals that always follows you through the house. Lastly, Hyuck goes over to the laundry hamper. 

The ghost is overjoyed by what greets him. Sitting on top of a pile of sweaters, is a lacy thong. Hyuck sinks to his knees, bending over the hamper and bringing his nose as close to the panties as possible. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing as the scent overwhelms him: this is so much better than florals.

Now he really feels dirty, but there’s something so freeing in it. He’s a dirty little ghostie, and Hyuck is beginning to revel in it. 

He’s been a spirit for so many years, and he’s gotten adept at poltergeist-type activity. Sure, he’s usually only ever used it to throw books around, or open cupboards, or… you know, wear bedsheets to scare the shit out of the kids who show up and trespass around Halloween, but… grabbing a pair of panties shouldn’t be that hard. 

With a shaky hand, Hyuck reaches into the hamper. He focuses his energy to his fingertips, and after a deep breath, when he touches your panties, he can feel the lace. Hyuck lifts the fabric out of the hamper, collapsing onto his knees next to it and shimmying his pants down.

Then, he wraps his panty-clad hand around his cock, throwing his head back to let out a sigh of relief. There’s something so sexy about jacking off using your underwear as friction- there’s a small, juicy spot along the fabric, and Hyuck’s majorly tempted to lick at it, but he feels like that’s a line he shouldn’t cross. 

Instead, he pumps his cock harder, letting out soft whimpers. Hyuck’s head lolls forward again, chin tucked down to his chest. His eyes open so he can stare at your cute panties as he strokes himself off with them, and the sight alone has his dick twitching. 

Hyuck grits his teeth, his abdominal muscles flexing with effort. He can’t help but rut toward his hand now, and each stroke of your lacey thong against his aching cock has him closer and closer-

There’s a sound downstairs, and it makes Hyuck’s heart leap in his chest. You’re home again already?

He tightens his grip on his length, determined to cum before he gets caught. He can’t stop now, not when he’s so close to a much-needed release- 

As the sound of you coming up the stairs limits his time more and more, the idea of getting caught actually adds to Hyuck’s pleasure. Before he knows what he’s doing, one of Hyuck’s hands is raising to his throat. He throws his head back, applying just a bit of pressure- it’s enough to have him grunting, the cord in his stomach snapping as his orgasm takes over.

Waves of pleasure wash through his entire body, his grip tightening on his throat and making it all the more intense. He can feel his spunk shooting onto your panties, which he holds over his tip as he pumps his aching cock, getting out every last drop-

He can hear you humming as you come down the hall, and in Hyuck’s post-orgasmic haze, he doesn’t have time to think. He simply drops your panties on the floor and stumbles to his feet, stepping through the wall just as your door opens.

He collapses again in the other room, pulling up his pants and trying to catch his breath.

Five 

It had been a quick run to get cat food for Pluto, and when you arrive back at your room, you hardly even notice that something is out of place. First, you open your blinds, peaking out at the evening setting sun. Then you go to sit on your bed to take off your socks, as you’re about to toss them to your hamper, you notice something on the floor.

It’s a pair of your lacy panties, and you’re a hundred percent sure they hadn’t been on the floor when you’d left.

With your bedroom door closed, Pluto couldn’t have gotten into your things, which leaves one culprit.

Hyuck.

You’ve suspected the ghost has had a growing crush on you for a while, after all, he is a man who’s been alone in this house for years, but this is your first real evidence of it.

You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric.

It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh.

Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties.

You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

For a moment, you simply stare at your panties, and then, you decide to do something about it. Going to your Grimoire, you open to a page bookmarked by multiple photos. They’re pictures of Hyuck that you’d found in the attic. You’d saved them for a rainy day when you’d need to contact him with a full-body apparition again, and it looks like today is the day.

Grabbing the largest one, you take the photo and your Grimoire down to the alter in the living room. While you have an alter of sorts in your bedroom, the one powered by the direct sun on your table by the south-facing window is the most appropriate for something like this.

You make quick work of a spell to bind the ghost to the waking world, and with a last few sprinkles of spices and some dried herbs, you place the photo in the center, using a lighter along the bottom edge.

“Hyuck?” you call, turning toward the room. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

You hear someone whisper, “Fuck,” and you turn to see Hyuck scampering toward the staircase. 

“Are you seriously going to make me chase you?”

“Don’t exorcize me!” he screams, taking the stairs two at a time.

His words make you laugh. “I have a different type of exercise planned,” you retort, but it doesn’t do anything to slow him down. “Seriously, Hyuck, calm down!”

You make it to the second level, and you know where he’s snuck into. He may have closed the door quietly, but you’ve lived with the ghost long enough to know which room he’s staked a claim over.

Taking an amused breath, you knock gently. “Hyuck,” you sing-song, “I’m not mad. Just let me in.”

“You’re gonna exorcize me.”

You sigh again. “Hyuck, open this door, right now.”

You hate to use your dommy-mommy voice on him, but he’s trying your patience, and you only have as long as it takes for his photo to burn, which, due to your magic, probably gives you about half an hour, give or take.

“If you do not open this door, I will open it for you, and your punishment will be worse,” you warn him.

A moment later, the door creaks open ajar, and you push it the rest of the way.

“I’m sorry,” Hyuck tells you, standing there with his shoulders hunched.

“For what?” you enquire, leaning on the frame and crossing your arms over your chest.

“For running.”

“And?” you prompt.

“For uh…” you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, bowing his head, “for uh… using your panties.” 

“Using them how?” You’re kind of enjoying watching him like this. He might have his own weird kinks, but this might just be one of your own.

“Well, you know…” his skin is turning pink.

“I don’t know. I want you to tell me what you did with them. Don’t leave out a single detail you bad ghost boy.”

Hyuck’s gaze lifts to meet yours, but he’s quick to look away again. “Well, I mean, I was just looking at them at first.”

“At first. And then what?”

“Well, I just wanted to touch them.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “I bet you wrapped them around your cock and jerked off with them, didn’t you?”

Hyuck’s ears have turned pink now, and when his hands go in front of his body, you realize he’s trying to hide a half-chub that’s growing in his pants.

The little freak is into this.

God, he’s endearing. 

“Admit it,” you instruct. “If you admit it, I’ll go easy on you.”

Hyuck takes a breath. “Yes, I used your panties to cum.”

You study the ghost.

“Good boy,” you say finally. His eyes lift to meet yours, his lips parting. “Come to my room.”

You don’t wait for him to respond, you simply turn and expect him to follow. When you get to your room, you collapse onto the bed. 

“Close the door,” you instruct next. “Be a good boy and light my candles for me too.” 

As he begins to follow through with your commands, you stretch, letting out a sigh from the feeling of your tight muscles. Then, you lift off your shirt, tossing it at Hyuck while his back is to you, his fingers fumbling with a lighter.

Hyuck freezes, then turns to look at you.

“Have you watched me before, dirty ghostie?” you ask, going to remove your pants next.

The way he swallows tells you everything you need to know.

“Well, you are a bad, naughty, dirty, little ghostie, aren’t you, Hyuck?” you grin, tossing your jeans at him.

Laying in your bra and panties, you watch him finish lighting your candles, then he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, clearly waiting on instruction. He’s trying to cover the front of his pants again, and it makes you laugh.

“Move your hands,” you tell him. “You know, honestly, I’m a little surprised at how easy it was for you to get hard again. You came, what? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”

He’s so bashful he can hardly answer, and it’s an adorable sight.

“Here are the rules,” you say, “I’m going to make myself cum. After that, I’ll let you make me cum. And if you can get through all of that teasing without touching yourself, if you can prove to me you’re a good ghostie who can follow instructions, I’ll fuck you. How does that sound?”

Hyuck’s gaze watches your hand slip between your thighs, your legs opening wider, and he unconsciously licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay… mistress?”

You laugh at his attempt to please you. “I was looking for a thank you.”

“Right, yeah, thank you, I can follow instructions,” he fumbles to correct himself. 

“Then be a good boy and put your hands behind yourself. I don’t want you touching anything. Don’t want you covering anything either, got it?” Your words come out breathy as you begin to stroke your core through your panties. “I especially don’t want to see your hands all shaky, that’s just embarrassing, ghost boy.”

Why are you enjoying this so much? Why are you enjoying the degradation of a man who died over twenty years ago?

From Hyuck’s reactions it’s clear he’s never been spoken to like this. Sure, domination and submission were things back in the day, but there must be something about your specific 2020’s brand of degradation- 

Hyuck slots his hands behind his back, letting out a deep breath.

“Good boy,” you coo, pushing your panties to the side so you can touch your pussy directly. Teasing him like this has already made you extremely wet, and it’s easy for you to glide your digits up and down your soaked slit, drawing soft circles on your clit.

“Can you see from there, ghost boy?” you sigh, spreading your legs even wider.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I don’t like Mistress or Ma’am,” you admit.

“I’m sorry.”

If you got him to call you Goddess you’d risk hubris, so instead, you tell him, “Call me princess.”

You’d considered ‘Angel’ as a term of endearment, but with the deities you pay tribute to, even that had felt like a step too far. No, Princess works- You feel like a royal girlie who’s having fun with a servant boy, abusing the power you hold over him, for mutual benefit. 

“Okay, princess,” Hyuck breathes, and you can tell from his reaction that he enjoys the feeling of the word on his tongue. 

You like the sound of it coming from him too, and you throw your head back, getting more comfortable against the pillows. You tease one of your fingers into your wet hole, stroking your sensitive inner walls. 

Hyuck lets out a shaky gasp, and you grin to yourself, keeping your eyes closed so you can enjoy the sensation. Although that doesn’t stop you from saying in a sing-song voice, “You better not be touching yourself, ghost boy.”

“I’m not, princess, I promise.” 

“Good ghostie,” you coo slipping another finger into your pussy. You open your eyes to look at him. His gaze is fixed on your core, and he’s got his bottom lip pinned between his teeth. “Is it a nice view?”

“The best view in the whole world,” Hyuck breathes, almost panting.

“Should I make myself cum so you can finally touch me?” 

“Fuck, yes please, fuck, yes-” Hyuck’s eyes meet yours, and you see the desperation, it’s practically throbbing off of him in waves. “Please, princess, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You’re being such a good ghostie for me,” you muse, pulling your fingers from your core and holding them out for him, “Come here, have a taste.”

Hyuck falls onto his knees on the foot of your mattress, grabbing your hand with both of his and drawing your digits to his mouth. He sucks on them, his eyes fixed on yours as his tongue licks and strokes your skin, cleaning up every drop of your juices.

“Now back to your spot,” you prompt, pulling your hand away. “The moment I cum, you can join.”

You watch him swallow thickly, and while he doesn’t talk back, Hyuck is clearly reluctant to get back to his feet, standing at the edge of the bed and watching you.

His hands go behind his back, and when he’s in proper form, you slowly slip your panties down your legs. Then, you throw them directly at him. They land on his shoulder, and Hyuck turns to look at them, breathing deeply.

He’s rock hard in his pants now, and the sight turns you on as you bring both hands to your core. You begin to finger yourself while you rub tight circles on your clit, your toes curling at the sensation. 

“Hyuck,” you whimper, arching your back, building the pressure deep in the pit of your abdomen. 

“Princess-” he echoes, sounding even more desperate than you are.

You open your eyes, staring directly at Hyuck as you work yourself closer and closer-

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him. “Fuck, I’m almost there, almost there, baby-”

Hyuck releases a moan at the new pet name, and you can see him twitching. He’s doing his best to follow your instruction about not moving until you’ve cum, but you can see it’s getting harder and harder-

You let out a gasp, your orgasm slamming into you, and that’s when Hyuck finally pounces.

He wastes no time jumping onto the bed, burying his face between your legs while his hands grab at the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. His mouth devours your core as your orgasm surges through you, and each lick and suck has you crying out, muscles tensing as Hyuck intensifies your high.

Your fingers thread in his hair, and he groans when you tug on him, unrelenting in his task of eating you through your orgasm. The ghost is eating you like a man who’s been starved of pussy for twenty years, and you suppose that’s accurate, so can you really hold the whole pantie-sniffing thing against him?

You’re not sure how he does it, but one orgasm that you’d given yourself quickly becomes a second orgasm that Hyuck has coaxed out of you by sucking on your clit, and you gasp loudly as it slams into you, riding the tail end of the first high. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming-” you whimper, thighs tensing around Hyuck’s head-

He simply pushes them apart, tongue diving into your hole to stroke your walls as they spasm around him. Hyuck groans, and the feeling of the vibration on your clit has you whimpering even louder, your grip tightening in his hair. 

“Hyuck-” you moan, pushing at his head, “I’m done, that was two-”

“I want three,” he tells you, taking his mouth from your pussy so he can suck marks along your inner thighs. “Can I have three? I’ve been a good ghostie for you.”

“You can have three when you bury your cock inside of me,” you tell him with a laugh, your body still buzzing in the after-effects of two orgasms that had happened in quick succession.

“I want three now, and four when I’m fucking you stupid, princess.” 

Well, this is a switch-up. 

He’d been so subby before, but one taste of your pussy has him trying to be more dominant? Fuck it, you don’t even mind, the words that have just come out of his mouth are too hot to even handle, so you let out a small, whimpered, “Okay.” 

“Okay, what?” he prompts, teeth grazing your inner thigh.

“Make me cum one more time with your mouth before you fuck me.” 

Hyuck doesn’t waste any time swiping his tongue along your slit again. He flicks at your clit and your thighs shake around his head, your nails dragging softly against his scalp. 

Your hips begin to wiggle, and Hyuck looks up at you, holding out his tongue and staying still so you can grind against him. You toss your head back, closing your eyes as you ride his tongue, using him for your own pleasure.

Hyuck groans, tilting forward just enough for his nose to bump your clit, and your muscles clench at the stimulus. You’re sensitive after two orgasms, but fuck, Hyuck feels so good.

“I just want you to fuck me,” you confess, relaxing back against the bed again while Hyuck takes the cue to begin to lick your pussy. “Make me cum so you can fuck me.”

Hyuck practically growls in response, his lips suctioning around your clit. Your legs quiver around his head, thighs squishing in on him- this time, instead of pushing you away and spreading you open, Hyuck allows you to practically crush his skull, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, body beginning to shake as he focuses all his attention on your clit.

There’s no pushing the ghost away, no crushing his head with your thighs- he’s locked in on his target, and all you can do is take what he’s giving you. 

Your moans fill the space, your back arching as he sucks your clit closer and closer to another high-

Then, out of the blue, one of his hands snakes up to your throat. Hyuck adjusts so he can squeeze your neck, his tongue flicking at your clit, his breath hot against your skin-

The pressure on your throat makes your entire body freeze for a moment, mind short-circuiting- and when you’re able to think again, all you can think about is the pulsing between your thighs as your orgasm crashes into you like a bullet train.

You whimper, the sound obstructed in part by the hand still gripping your throat. Your own hands fly to Hyuck’s wrist, encouraging him to apply even more pressure as you begin to thrash under his touch. Your hips are bucking toward his face, your pussy throbbing like it’s never throbbed before- and there’s not even anything filling you.

Your clit feels amazing, but your poor inner walls have been neglected, you’re aching for something to throb around, aching for an intrusion in your sinfully wet hole-

“Hyuck, please,” you gasp, letting out a shuddery breath when he pulls his mouth from your core, looking up at you. “I need-”

He squeezes your throat tighter, cutting off your words. Then he begins to kiss up your body, finally making it to your lips. He stops just a millimeter away, looking down at you as he releases your neck. It’s as if - even after all of this - he’s asking for permission.

You throw your arms around the back of his throat, tugging him the final distance to your mouth. His tongue clashes against your own, and you can taste your pussy there. Your core throbs, and Hyuck begins to grind down against you, rolling his hips expertly.

“Fuck,” you groan, breaking the kiss so you can shove your hands between your bodies, pushing at his pants. 

Hyuck, meanwhile, begins to mark up your neck in love bites, his fingers slipping under your back so he can unclasp your bra and tear it off.

You’re naked for him now, and you make quick work of his pants, briefs, and shirt. You’re caught in a whirlwind of need, kisses, and touches. Finally, he’s slotting himself between your thighs again. This time, when he grinds against you, his bare cock glides past your clit, and your legs shake, your fingers clawing at him.

“Do it,” you encourage him, gasping as he kisses your throat. One of your hands snakes into his hair, massaging his scalp. “Fuck me.” 

Hyuck reaches between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock. He begins to tease his head along your pussy lips and you both groan at the feeling. “Princess-” he moans.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I’m ready, I can take it. You’ve been such a good ghostie being patient for me and making me cum- it’s your turn. Use me, baby, fill me up.” 

He’s panting against your neck, and he pulls back to look down at you. You can tell there’s hesitancy, but a need too, and when you grab the nape of his neck to draw his lips to yours, you feel his body immediately relax.

He presses the tip of his cock to your tight hole, and as he kisses you, he begins to push into your pussy.

You groan at the feeling of him. For an average-sized man, his cock is no laughing matter. He’s thick, stretching out your inner walls with each inch that sinks into you. 

Your thighs quake around his hips, and Hyuck licks at your tongue, moaning and kissing you until his front is flush with your own.

Only then does he break the kiss, rubbing his forehead against yours. “Princess-”

“I know, baby, it feels good for me too,” you assure him.

He grabs at the pillow next to your head, squeezing it roughly while letting out a shuddery breath.

Your pussy is still throbbing, trying to accommodate his large size, and when he buries his face against your throat, beginning to thrust, your entire body lights up with pleasurable energy.

“Fuck,” you groan, closing your eyes and stroking his shoulders, “Just like that.”

He picks up his pace, fucking you harder and harder until your bed begins to rock against the wall with each rough motion from his hips. 

Hyuck continues his barrage on your throat, licking your sweet spot while you mewl into his ear, holding him tight. One of his hands sneaks up between your bodies, grabbing at your breast. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it and panting against your skin.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, pussy throbbing around him, earning a deep groan.

“I don’t know if I can hold it,” he admits, pulling away to look down at you with beautiful chocolate eyes.

“Then don’t hold it,” you tell him. “Just don’t assume we’re done when you’re done.”

His gaze darkens, his plump lips parting in a silent question. Instead of saying anything else, you draw him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs tight around his hips. 

The hand that had been on your breast finds your free hand, fingers lacing as he presses you down into the mattress, fucking you even harder.

Each thrust has him hitting perfect spots, and the way he’s rolling your hips adds stimulus to your clit, which throbs with sensitivity.

The throaty moans escaping him are driving you mental, and the way his tongue strokes your own has you dizzy with lust.

Your other hand tangles in his pretty hair, tugging gently, dragging his mouth away from yours so you can begin to speckle his throat with kisses.

Hyuck lets out an absolutely sinful moan, and you realize he’s very sensitive in this area. It makes you want to make it even more, so you begin to suck small purple marks into his flesh while he shakes above you, bicep muscles flinching with effort.

“Keep fucking me,” you remind him. “Want you to cum.” 

Hyuck squeezes your hand, his pace picking up again.

“That’s it, ghost boy,” you coo, licking his throat. “Cum for your princess.”

He lets out a strangled gasp, thrusts faltering. A moment later you can feel his cum filling you up, and it makes you moan, your core throbbing with desperation. You need one more high, and you’re sure he’ll help you get it.

Hyuck rides out his orgasm, and then he collapses on top of you, his lips seeking out your own.

You allow him to kiss you for a while, cock still buried deep inside of you. Then, you begin to stroke his body again, making him shiver.

“Can you roll onto your back for me, ghost boy?” you prompt, looking up into his eyes.

Hyuck is quick to comply, and you can tell from the way his lips part, that he’s not expecting you to mount him as soon as he’s on his back. You put his cock back inside of you before any cum can drip out, and you sit there, staring down at him with your hands on his chest.

“Your recharge time is pretty good, isn’t it, ghost boy?” you tease, gently rolling your hips while he whines, grabbing your thighs from the sensitivity. “I bet I could just kiss you for a few minutes, and you’d be rock hard again in no time.”

“Princess-”

“You want to please me, don’t you, baby?” You trail a finger down his chest, teasing your nails across his abdomen and watching the muscles jump there under your touch.

“Yes,” he admits. 

“And I think we both deserve to cum one more time, don’t you?”

He nods again. 

You lean over him, pretending you’re about to kiss him, as his eyes flutter shut, lips parting in anticipation- you push his face to the side, attacking his neck instead.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, grabbing at your hips, squeezing you.

“Such a sensitive neck,” you muse, lips moving to his ear where you lick the shell, enjoying the way he shudders. “I wonder if I just…” you slip one hand up his chest, and Hyuck immediately arches his head, giving you full access to wrap your fingers around his throat. “That’s what I thought.”

Hyuck whimpers below you, hips pushing up, looking for friction-

“Did that make you hard, ghostie?” you laugh, sitting up and looking down at him. “Just a little choking and you’re already good to go again?”

This poor man has been repressed- you’re happy you’re the one who gets to free him. 

You begin to slowly move your hips, and Hyuck lets out a desperate moan, arching his head back even more. You tighten your grip on his throat and he responds by digging his fingers into your hips, urging you to ride him faster.

He looks so good like this.

Then, one of his hands moves, his thumb finding your clit. Your core throbs around him and you both moan loudly. Hyuck opens his eyes, looking up at you. 

“You’re being so good for me,” you tell him, rutting faster on his cock. “Make your princess cum.”

He rubs your clit harder, beginning to buck up to meet you while you ride him. 

Then, Hyuck pushes your hand from his neck, sitting up so he can latch his mouth onto your breast. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your lower back and moving you on his cock. His teeth skim your nipple and you cry out, threading your hands in his hair and moaning in his ear.

He groans in response. This new angle has your clit rubbing against him, and you ride yourself to an intense completion, your head thrown back when your orgasm rushes over you.

As you cum, Hyuck flips you onto your back, taking over and thrusting into you with newfound energy. Your pussy throbs around him as he fucks you stupid, and when he buries his face against your throat, marking your skin, he cums too.

You can feel him shoot a second load deep inside of you, coating your walls to the point of nearly being too full, but part of you kind of loves it.

You hold him as he fucks you through your highs, listening to his panting and whining.

Finally, he stops, all but collapsing on top of you, lips feverish against your skin.

You pet his hair, trying to catch your breath. 

You’re cognizant of the fact that you don’t have all the time in the world for aftercare, and you’d rather talk with Hyuck now than address a shadow.

“Ghostie?” you whisper.

He releases a grunt. 

“We don’t have much time left,” you say sadly.

He pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. 

“Listen,” you cup his face, “being interested in a ghost the way I’m interested in you has never been something I saw for myself in this life,” you admit. “But, I am interested in you. I only have so many pictures of you that I can use to make you physical like this, but I’m going to find something to make this longer lasting, I promise. Until I do… I’m okay with you sniffing my panties, or watching me masturbate, or anything you want-”

Hyuck cracks a smile at your words, and you find yourself giggling as well.

“So you’re not going to exorcize me?” he jokes.

“Never ever,” you promise.

“You’re going to find a way for us to be together,” the ghost says softly.

“If anyone could find a way, it’s a witch like me,” you assure him, leaning up to press your lips against his.

He kisses you gently, and you get lost in it.

You’re not sure how long you stay lip-locked, but after a while, the feeling of his lips disappears. You open your eyes to find yourself alone, well- you can still see a shadow of him, but his warmth is gone, and the sensation of his kisses too.

You sigh. “I’ll find a way, ghostie,” you promise.

You’d like to think he responded, maybe with a word of encouragement, but there’s no way to know for sure.

Rolling onto your side, you imagine him behind you, close but unable to physically touch.

Leave to a witch to fall in love with a ghost.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! writing this style of Hyuck was way too satisfying

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🔮 preview.  Hyuck kisses you, grabbing your face as he does so. You can taste something unsaid on his tongue, but you do your best to ignore it as he pulls you from the sink, turning you around until your bum hits the island table. He lifts you up, setting you onto the old wood, then, he sinks to his knees. You’re wearing a dress, Hyuck loves dresses, they make it easy for him to have access to your pussy. He’s downright kitty obsessed these days, lifting up your skirt just enough to get under it. His lips make contact with your panty clad core and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on your palms and letting your head fall backward.

cw/ tw. Dominant leaning switchy Hyuck, unprotected ghost sex, kitchen sex, sex on a table, pussy eating, fingering, pussy obsessed Hyuck, slight ghost angst, hair pulling, choking, praise, dirty talk, kitchen quickie, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of dark magic/bones, panties as a gag, finger sucking, sex while wearing a dress,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess (his)  baby

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. Hyuck x afab!reader

bonus

The answer to your ghost conjuration problem had been shockingly simple. If burning a picture could draw Hyuck to your existence for as long as it was alight, you realized that burning one of his bones would last substantially longer.

Most crematoriums burn bones at 1000 degrees Celsius for two or three hours. At a much lower temperature, using a Bunsen burner set to 300 degrees, you could burn one small fragment for a lot longer. 

The worst part was going to the graveyard across town, with no one but Pluto as company, under the light of the moon in the dead of night to exhume Hyuck’s body. It’s been so long since his death that you weren’t worried about finding anything other than bones in the casket, and with a spell, you didn’t even have to put in the effort to dig- but something about uncovering Hyuck’s supposed ‘final resting place’ just hadn’t sat right with you.

You’d been aware, as you had driven home with a bag full of bones, that you were teetering on the side of a darker shade of magic. But for love, you decided not to care.

The first night you’d lit up a small bone, Hyuck had appeared right behind you, and the two of you had fucked on the floor right next to the altar. 

It’s been three or four months since you began to burn Hyuck’s bones, and your lust for each other hasn’t diminished.

He’s insatiable, and you are too.

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[snowfll]

Hi! Can you write one about Tom Blyth and actress!reader where after filming a movie they grew closer and closer until finally one day Tom or reader or both confess their feelings for one another? Or maybe it can be them both being oblivious and everyone basically knows they’re in love until one of their costars helps them finally confess to one another? Thank you!

Baby, You're Perfect; Tom Blyth

pairing - Tom Blyth x actress!reader summary - its easy to fall for Tom on screen and even easier to fall for him in real life words - 1.31k warning - js fluff! Tom's a cutie note - I tried my best! I hope you like it :3 idk why but the pictures aren't working. trying to fix it asap

"You two are awfully close."

Although neither of you answered the question, the interviewer could sense the unspoken truth lingering in the air, revealed by the way both of you were flustered.

Working alongside Tom on a romance film created a bond that extended beyond the scripted lines. Having played his love interest on screen, the chemistry between the two of you was through the roof.

From the moment you sat down in your designated seat at the table, he caught your eye. You were curious to see how the chemistry read would play out. It turns out you two got along extremely well.

“Well, yes, seeing him every day has that effect; he’s such a sweetheart,” you confessed during the interview, a smile playing on your lips.

“Oh, don’t listen to her; she’s over-exaggerating," Tom interjected with a playful grin, emphasizing the chemistry within your off-screen dynamic.

He is a known gentleman, bringing you flowers every week on set—a thoughtful act born from the understanding of your love for them. The cast playfully teased him for it, drawing parallels from his on-screen character, who loved giving gifts to his girl. You adored his actions; no one had ever brought you flowers before.

As filming wrapped up, a sense of melancholy settled in, originating from the reluctance to part ways—you enjoyed your time on set. The days were a blend of shooting scenes or relaxing with Tom wherever you were, no matter what you were with him at all times.

Now that you were on the press tour for your film, you and Tom were closer than ever. The days were a whirlwind, going from interview to interview and then straight to the hotel to catch up on rest. The limited days off were cherished, offering you both a break from the spotlight.

Walking through different cities with Tom by your side became a treasured routine, despite the presence of paparazzi trailing your every move. Cameras flashed every time you went out with your hands intertwined, capturing moments that fueled rumors and speculations.

“Tom! Are you and Ms. Jones matching shoes on purpose?” A paparazzo called out, drawing attention to the coordinated footwear chosen during your shopping spree.

“Ms. Jones, do you have anything to comment on the dating rumors between you and Mr. Blyth?” another inquired. That is what most of them ask nowadays. Could they sense the feelings you had for your co-star? Ignoring the persistent questions, Tom guided you away from the crowd of cameras, seeking refuge in the waiting car.

“That was a lot,” he remarked after a few minutes of silence, his tone carrying exhaustion.

“It was. I can’t wait to get back to my hotel room.” He sensed something was off as you muttered your response. You were always able to hold a conversation with him; there was never a dull moment between you two. Though he knew you were tired from the day’s activities, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done anything wrong.

As the car pulled up to the hotel, you hastily exited and rushed up to your room, leaving him behind. Guilt gnawed at you, but facing him after the intrusion of the paparazzi was a challenge you weren’t ready to tackle.

A few hours later, a soft knock at your door interrupted the solitude. You welcomed him in before crawling under the covers once again; there was no reason to ignore him.

“What’s going on, sweetie?” He looked at you with concern filling his eyes as he sat down next to you on the bed. “I know it's not because you’re tired; you’ve been napping for a while. Please talk to me." His genuine concern cut through the unspoken tension.

Once you didn’t answer, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of bed. The two of you made your way to the door, where he handed you your shoes.

“Where are we going?” You questioned while standing back up, to which he replied by telling you your destination is someplace you would enjoy.

He dragged you all the way to the car and closed your door as you got in the passenger seat, like a true gentleman. The two of you drove around with the windows down, screaming along to your shared playlist.

“Are you feeling better, now?” He turned down the music, waiting to hear your answer. “I am, thank you. Would you like me to explain?" Communication was very important to you, and unable to deceive him, you felt compelled to reveal the truth.

“In all honesty, the paparazzi got too overwhelming. Especially with all the dating questions.” You admitted, your gaze fixed on a point in the car, avoiding direct eye contact.

Tom’s expression softened, a mixture of understanding and empathy in his eyes. He parked the car in an empty parking lot before reaching out for your hand and placing it in his lap. “Hey, you don’t have to face this alone. And, for the record, I hate how they invade our personal lives as well.”

A smile appeared on your lips, appreciating his supportive words. “It’s just... the questions about us and whether we are dating. I didn’t know how to handle it,” you confessed, vulnerability filling the open air.

He nodded, his thumb gently rubbing against your hand. “I understand; it's okay to feel overwhelmed. But you don’t have to worry about handling it alone. We can get through this together.”

The sincerity in his words reassured you and provided comfort in his presence. “Thank you, Tom. This means a lot more than you realize,” you replied, your voice genuine.

"Anytime, sweetie, we’re a team, on and off-screen.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You couldn’t help but notice a shift in the air—a subtle change in the dynamic between you two. The unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface were now begging to be let out.

Silence soon enveloped the car; the only thing playing was the music set to a low volume. The weight of the implicit emotions hung in the air, yet there was a shared understanding that needed no words.

You debated breaking the silence, but fortunately, Tom spoke up before you could. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it more and more recently... Maybe it’s time we addressed the dating rumors.”

Your eyebrows were raised in surprise. “Agreed, but how do we go about it?"

“Let’s be honest with them,” he paused, thinking of how he should continue. “We were going to have to talk about it one day, so why not tell them the truth now?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and the idea of him actually liking you echoed in your mind. “The truth?”

He nodded, honesty in his eyes. “What if we tell them that the chemistry they see on screen is more than just acting?"

You caught your breath, the unspoken truth finally swimming to the surface. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I���m saying I like you, not just as a co-star; everything we do together is what I've always dreamed about. Baby, you’re perfect.”

A rush of emotion swept over you, and a genuine smile graced your face. “Tom, I like you too, more than I ever thought I would.”

His smile mirrored yours as he stared into your eyes. “Then let’s tell them the truth. We like each other, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

As you shared a lingering look, he slowly leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Your surroundings seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that moment of equal vulnerability.

Breaking the kiss, Tom grinned, his eyes filled with love and affection. “Ready to face the world?” he paused, waiting for some kind of response, continuing once he saw you nod.

"So, let’s start right now.”

[corollaservant]

Sweet Delight // Gojo x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: You are too nice to be serving rude customers for minimum wage. Rest assured that Satoru will take care of it.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, noncon/very dubious consent, somno, stalking, knives, deception, mind games, murder mentions, violence (not to reader).. that's all.

A/N: Yan!Gojo is Joe Goldberg to me, idk. Beta read by my guy bsf who said the ending sucked (inspired by quote used in this book)

It started on a Friday afternoon.

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet, he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir..” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said.” Satoru sighed “Please get the fuck out the store or it will be..sir.” While there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once—well, in your defense the café was crowded, yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would—today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyway.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly as expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He was laughing internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P—please don't kill me!” was the first thing you said (brokenly mewled) as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I–I am all alone.. one moment–'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on... you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice quickly returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” He whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S–Satoru, what!?” Your voice trembled as the money fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you.” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” You cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in an embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries fell from your lips. Well... you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you looked cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F–fuck you!” His firm hands stopped your weak, aimless punches and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I said I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you till 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud it affected you. It made you susceptible to control. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise; actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so—

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?What is going on?—

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? Was your life about to end? It wasn't like people didn't talk about the criminals in the neighborhood—you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe off the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys!” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare the longer it drags on and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spits, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He is calm.

So calm that you almost don't see his fist obliterating the guy. One punch and he's knocked down, Satoru climbs on top.He pulls his fists down interchangeably but it's fast and you can't count, must be about seven that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P–please! Let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball—blood oozes down his mouth onto the curb and he chokes on some of it. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

-

He gave you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was too hard. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you— physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9, he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry — spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily either, you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His fingers sought your heart as he felt your pulse. A cock pressed against you—he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away as his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger inside you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway—he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You inhale sharply.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but— you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) as he pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now and he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt—he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t care about your shock—he’s close.

“What.. agh—what are you doing?!” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into you, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace. His cock is stuffing you to the brim, it hurts but he can't be considerate. You feel like you can't breathe, dizzy from a nap and a repeated thump down your core. Yet, a primal instinct of pleasure washes away a conscious you telling yourself it's wrong and fuck— you moan out his name. Why do you moan?

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you feel too full.

“Satoru! S–stop...” But your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you!—clenching your cunt like some slut.

“N–ugh– Satoru please—” You cry out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest louder. You think of his kind eyes, heartwarming grin (“Got these bad boys for you”, as he gave you your favorite cookies) but soon they're gone away—

—replaced by his cock rutting in your damp walls. You're unwillingly sucking him in, you can't think straight, he's... good? No. He's disgusting for this. Water blurs your eyesight—it's too much.

A hand is on your clit as he bites your soft neck at the same time. God, how he longed for this. Having you in his arms. He adored you.

“Want to come on my cock, like the helpless slut you are, baby?” He whispers but it's soft—like he's teasing you for missing the bus and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please—” You muffle and beg and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk; “I can't—I–” He doesn't pay attention, his cock is ripping you apart and you have to let go—riding out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves your mess, no, he loves you and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter), he lifts your leg up as he angles himself so deep, you yell; overstimulated and still scared.

“Satoru, e–enough!” He's bottoming out in between sticky walls and you ache, hoping for an end.

“Don't be selfish baby—fuck!” He groans as large palms squeeze around your neck and then he's cumming — fast and as much as possible, you think. It feels warm and disgusting, his breathy moans are on your ear as you force your eyes shut. What doesn't make it inside, seeps back out but it’s not a lot, since you’re fully stuffed and he takes his sweet time to pull out. You just feel that good. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep. You cry—he estimates 15 minutes before you give up and let sleep take care of you.

One step at a time.

-

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never cuss anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually—

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Comin tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? New record?” He can always read Suguru's irony. Funny of him to think he'd stop there.

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru hastily types.

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. Look where that got him. In Satoru's trunk ready to meet Mr. Worthless. He shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here.

He thinks about some quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight—

14 minutes till your shift ends. What was it?

—some are born to endless night? It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it.

Or maybe you just give the first part a meaning.

[madelynraemunson]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

[etheries1015]

What about Diasomnia going into MC's dream? They had been through Lilias time of war and magic, his tragic backstory and beautiful history, and suddenly they were in your...much less "exciting" world.

A boring life seemed to be a harsh description of what your world was, but there wasn't many other words to properly describe your world and your life. The reality was as such; boring. Every day was the same - work whatever that may have been, home. Work, home. Work, home. And although you may have had people around you, there wasn't ever truly a time you seemed to be...happy.

A lonely life. A boring, magicless, mundane, and slow life. That was how you would describe your world- the color grey, vibrant hues stripped from its core leaving behind a shadow that never seemed to leave your side.

Of course, there wasn't anything inherently wrong about living a slow and boring life; however it just never seemed to feel right to you, experiencing little to no excitement, no danger, no risks...the place you felt most at home was the comfort of your own mind.

You seldom spoke about your life prior to Twisted Wonderland to any who would inquire, you had a laid out response every time someone asked;

"There isn't much of a story to tell."

And suddenly they, Lilia sebek and Silver, were standing in front of you.

You, who was sobbing into your hands inconsolable.

You, who was absolutely miserable

This wasn't their fun sunshine prefect they knew,

This was a shell of a person who hated their mundane life.

Sebek Lilia and Silver all stared at you from a distance as you simply stared at the sky with a somber twinkle in your eyes. It was useless to come up to you- there was no way you'd understand where they had come from, and no way you remembered magic. Instead of marveling at the prospect of being inside a place completely opposite of Twisted Wonderland, they were instead silent in their sadness staring at the prefect they had come to love.

You looked up at the sky which was turning dark, taking notice of a singular star that had planted itself directly above you. This star was particularly beautiful- beautiful enough for you to decide that perhaps it had the properties to bring you peace of mind.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight," You hesitated before letting out a breathy chuckle while shaking your head, almost as if you were making fun of yourself for speaking such words.

"I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." Another stretch of hesitance reigned as you simply stared at the dark sky, contemplating whether or not it was worth trying. You seemed to have made up your mind, letting out a sigh and offering your wish to the star.

"Please, just...Send me somewhere. Anywhere but this place."

A moment of silence seemed to tease you at your request, and you sighed yet another pathetically melancholy sigh. The three boys truly pitied the sight before them. Although not a backstory of betrayal, war, or fantasy, seeing you so disheveled and in a state of disrepair was a different kind of tragedy.

The silence that rang was rudely interrupted by the sound of clicking against the ground and a neigh of a horse- you didnt have a moment to realize what was happening until it was far too late. You stood up in a mere second of panic as you saw a horse with a carriage in tow, a large black carriage you hadn't even a split second to notice the details.

You heard the sound of voices calling out your name

Before the carriage had come and made impact

ultimately granting your wish.

[videovamptramp]

you aren’t mine to lose

// you’ve had a crush on ellie since you were kids. you two have always been best friends; until she gets a girlfriend who ironically hates you. //

warnings: pinning, angst, stoner/dealer!ellie, modern day au, i can never write anything happy, this isn’t proof read so my grammatical errors may need a warning???

(you love me, but you’ll never love me as much as you love her)

ellie has been your best friend since you were both 13. throughout high school, the two of you only grew closer. your mother often joked that you were both conjoined at the hip. everywhere ellie was, you were, and vice versa. your crush on ellie started a little after the first year of high school. the brunette has always been really nice to you; even if she was awkward, and didn’t understand very many social cues… ellie was your favorite person in the whole wide world.

your crush on ellie only got worse as the two of you got older. you even found yourself following her after graduation to the university of jackson. now it was your first year of college, and the two of you were still the best of friends. that is, until ellie got a girlfriend. in all honesty, you were a depressed wreck when ellie first started talking to tiffany. she was a blonde with blue eyes, and had a body that could stop a trucker from a mile away. she was perfect in every single way, and it was obvious why ellie liked her. it was also pretty obvious that tiffany hated you. ellie was, of course oblivious to the tension between you and the psych major, but you were pretty sure tiffany only hated you because she knew how you felt about ellie.

but that didn’t discourage you from keeping your friendship with the brunette you’ve come to love so much. you never expected ellie to return your feelings. in fact, that’s the main reason you’ve been so supportive of her relationship with tiffany from the beginning. sure, it made you sad and sometimes you didn’t want to talk to ellie, because all she’d talk about was tiffany… but you still tried really hard to text her and hang out with her. maybe it wasn’t as much as you two used to, but still, you were trying and that’s all that matters, right?

“so are you gonna be at jesse’s party tonight?” your roommate dina inquires curiously, as she folds some of her clothes. she pulls you out of your ellie-induced thoughts, causing you to pry your eyes away from the textbook you hadn’t been paying any attention to. “um, no. i have to study for my english seminar. mr. lydon always calls on me.” you half lie, and dina rolls her eyes playfully. “that’s because you practically know everything already. he’s impressed and probably gonna offer you a position as a student teacher next year.” she admits, and your eyes light up at the thought. you were majoring in english, because it’s always been your dream to be an english teacher or professor.

“you really think he’ll ask me? yara’s super smart and she’s been talking about wanting to be a student teacher since the year started.” you point out, while dina waves dismissively after putting some of her shirts away. “he’s definitely gonna ask you, y/n. you two are always talking about star wars and your weird love for the semi colon.” she taunts, making you blush in a bit of embarrassment. “it’s just… it’s a pause without a coma or period— never mind, you wouldn’t understand. science geek.” you tease your roommate back, causing her to gasp in mock offense as she reaches for a pair of folded socks, tossing them right at your face.

you giggle, and as your laughter dies down, dina flashes you a look. “you should really come tonight though. ellie’s gonna be there.” she continues to pick on you, but you can hear the slight seriousness in her tone. you groan, “which means tiffany is also gonna be there.” you counterpoint. you say the blonde’s name as if it’s venomous, and dina shakes her head, the annoyance on her face clear as water. “ugh, i hate her. i swear, if she tries to psycho analyze me because i had a bad day one more time, i’m going to punch her and ruin that nose job her daddy paid for.” dina states in a tone too serious to be a joke, and you flash her a look of surprise before you both burst into a fit of laughter.

“still, you should go with me tonight. word on the street is ellie and her have been arguing a lot lately.” dina confesses, and this seems to spike your interest. you quirk a brow in your roommates direction, ellie hasn’t told you anything about her and tiffany fighting. then again, you’ve barely been texting ellie about anything other than plans for group hangouts or memes. “what are they fighting about?” you ask, unable to hide the fact that you’re suddenly intrigued. dina shrugs, “i don’t know, but it seems pretty bad. i heard tiffany yelling the other day. like at the top of her lungs yelling. i think the dorm rep had to get involved.” she explains, and your eyes widen a bit.

why didn’t ellie tell me anything?

“look, we can go with our matching flare jeans!” dina holds up the pair of black jeans she had just washed; they were your favorite pair because they had hearts on them. you shake your head, offering her a small smile. “fine. i’ll go; but if i get anything less than a eighty on tomorrow’s assignment, i’m blaming you.” you warn her playfully, and the grin on dina’s face makes your smile widen. you close the book you had long forgotten about, and get up; deciding to pick out your outfit for tonight. you settle on the flare jeans and a black furry sweater that’s too small to even keep you warm. your hair is still a bit damp from your shower earlier, but you let down both of your braids anyways; allowing the semi-curly hair to fall down. after putting on some mascara and lipgloss, you aimlessly scroll through tiktok while you wait for dina to finish getting ready.

by the time the raven haired girl is finished, jesse is texting the group chat, letting you both know the kegs are full and ready. apparently ellie was supplying the weed, and one of jesse’s friends was bringing bottles of liquor along with some packs of beer. “you should text ellie and tell her you’re gonna come.” dina suggests, as you both make your way out of your dorm hall, stepping out into the horrid cold. “so… you and jesse…” you trail off, a tiny smirk etched onto your lips. you can see dina blushing under one of the lampposts, causing you to chuckle. “jeez, d, you really like this guy huh?” you question and her blush deepens; her cheeks turning crimson red.

“he’s sweet… i know we just met earlier this year, but i feel like i really know him. you know? like i know his heart.” dina explains, and you smile brightly. “wow, i never thought i’d hear you talking about someone in such a sappy way.” you poke fun at her, but your friend can hear the softness in your voice and see the fondness in your eyes. dina grins, “yeah, well, who knows, he might get lucky tonight.” she half jokes and you gasp, throwing your head back while releasing a howling laugh.

when you get to the frat house, there’s already hoard of people there. the music is loud, but not too loud, so for that you’re sort of grateful. jesse finds you both a minute after you two walk in; he has a large smile on his face and his varsity jacket hanging off his back. “hello ladies.” he says, his smile more directed to dina. “hey jesse, is ellie here yet?” you ask curiously, trying to sound nonchalant, but he can see right through you. he nods, “yup! she’s in the back rolling a few j’s. you can head back there and say hi if you want. she’s alone.” he clarifies, and you smile gratefully. “thanks! i’ll see you guys in a minute. save me a dance, party girl.” you tell dina, and she nods. “you better come find me to dance!” she warns, and you giggle as you begin to make your way to the back of the frat house.

the only bedroom downstairs is usually used for seven minutes in heaven, or for movie nights. when you push your way into the bedroom the room is full of smoke, and you spot ellie sitting on the bed. she’s wearing a buttoned up flannel shirt, and those old faded jeans that you love on her. she’s staring out of the closed window, seemingly deep in thought; her short brown hair barely reaches the nape of her neck, and you can’t help but stare for a minute as you lean against the doorframe. she takes another drag of the joint, inhaling the smoke and keeping it in her throat before releasing it. “hey there.” you pull her out of her thoughts, causing her to snap her head in your direction.

ellie’s eyes change as soon as they land on you. her face expression goes soft. “hey. what are you doing here?” she questions, her voice light but clearly confused. “dina convinced me to come.” you explain shortly as you walk in, inching closer to ellie. you don’t seem to notice the way those pale green eyes seem to roam up and down your body as you stand in front of her. she holds the joint out, offering you some. ellie knows you love to smoke, you’re not a drinker, but you’ve always been a smoker. growing up, you were the only one who was always down to get high with ellie. it was, shamefully her favorite thing. getting high alone or with anyone else wasn’t the same for her.

you gladly take it, placing the joint between your lips before fixing your sweater, and taking the lit joint out of your mouth. you hold the smoke while you hand it back to ellie, offering her a cute little smile that makes something in her chest clench. you cough a little after exhaling the smoke, and it makes her chuckle. “good?” she asks, and you nod, “what strain as that?” you wonder out loud, “cherry chem.” she answers vaguely, placing the joint between her own lips as she reaches into her backpack, retrieving a little wooden box. you watch inquisitively as she opens the box and reveals a bunch of freshly rolled joints.

“here.” she says as she pulls out five and hands them to you. you shake your head, “no, it’s okay—“ she cuts you off, “you don’t wanna get too drunk tonight, do you, princess?” she asks, the old nickname causing you to blush under her droopy, hooded eyes. you reluctantly accept them, knowing ellie is right. you always get too drunk when you don’t smoke in order to level yourself out. “thanks els.” you thank her with that god damn smile on your face, and ellie feels as if the sun is shining on her face. you make her feel so warm.

“sit down.” she says, handing you the nearly finished joint, as she pats the empty space right beside her. you scrunch your nose in disgust, “no way, i saw joan sanders come in here with tommy last month. i know what happens on this bed.” you says in a prissy tone that causes ellie to laugh. “such a priss.” she mutters as she pulls you by your hips and causes you to fall onto the bed right next to her. you gasp, pushing her arm roughly. “ellie!” you squeal in disgust, but you get a whiff of her cologne that causes your head to go fuzzy. your face is hot, and ellie is smirking at you in a way that causes the butterflies in your belly to repopulate.

“it’s almost finished.” you scowl, and ellie shrugs as she snatches the joint out of your hands, tossing it into the ashtray. “i’ll light another one. unless you got somewhere to be.” she raises a brow, and you shake your head, flashing her a puzzled look. “aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with tiffany tonight? you guys are always at every party together.” you point out, and you notice the way ellie tenses at the sound of her girlfriends name. her demeanor shifts as she reaches for another joint, and lights it.

“she’s with her friends tonight. you know ashley and miley?” she asks with clear disdain on her face. you nod, “i know of them. they’re on the cheer team right?” you respond with a question, and she merely nods. “yeah. she’s with them i think.” ellie mutters, and you go quiet for a minute. “dina told me you guys have been fighting lately...” you start, and ellie rolls her eyes. “… why didn’t you tell me anything?” you ask her, and she shrugs. “didn’t wanna bother you with my dumb ass relationship problems.” she mumbles, as she hands you the joint.

you throw her a look of surprise, “your problem are not dumb, ellie.” you say sternly, and she scoffs. “they are. she’s… she’s being stupid.” she murmurs, and you furrow your brows. you’ve never heard ellie speak negatively about tiffany before. if anything, whenever she’d bring the blonde up she’d have this dorky grin on her face. now she looks exhausted. “what happened?” you ask carefully, and ellie freezes. you’ve known each other for years and ellie tells you everything; yet she doesn’t want to tell you about the this. the more you think about it, the more you realize ellie’s never told you anything about her and tiffany fighting. not even once.

she seems to have put a wall up for the first time without you even noticing. have you really been pulling away that much, that you didn’t even notice something’s been going on with her? in your defense, you were only pulling away from her to protect your heart. you knew ellie could never want you the way you want her, and whenever you saw her with tiffany, it hurt.

she shakes her head refusing to tell you. “it’s nothing.”

your brows knit together, she’s never shut you out about anything. ellie’s even told you all of the embarrassing things about herself; she was an open book with no filter when it came to you… but right now it seemed like she didn’t want to tell you what the arguments between her and tiffany are about. the silence in the room is thick, and you can hear the muffled music coming from behind the door. you open your mouth to speak, but jesse rushes into the room, “hey ellie, dani wants to know if she can buy a few joints off you.” the dark haired boy states causing ellie to get up. “yeah, sure. come on, wanna get a drink?” ellie asks you. you nod, standing up and following the brunette and jesse out of the room.

there’s even more people here than there was when you first arrived, and as you check your phone, you realize you were with ellie for nearly thirty minutes. ellie reaches for your hand so she doesn’t lose you in the crowd, and you gladly take it. your stomach flips as soon as your skin meets hers, and she leads you over to the kitchen. jesse walks up to dani with you and ellie not far behind, and your eyes wander around the crowded area as ellie begins to make a deal with the basket ball player. ellie squeezes your hand when she’s done, and the smile she flashes you makes your knees weak.

“whatcha’ want to drink?” she asks you with that cute raspy voice that drives you crazy. “just a cranberry vodka, if you guys have any cranberry juice.” ellie’s sure you don’t mean to look up at her with those sexy lidded eyes, but you do and she finds her mouth going dry. “coming right up.” she winks at you, and nearly grimaces at how awkward she is. you giggle while she makes your drinks, the buzz from ellie’s weed barely now hitting you. you’re partially reminded of why you’ve been trying not to smoke; because whenever you’re high, ellie is all you can think about. it makes you sad knowing she’s probably thinking about making up with her girlfriend right now.

ellie hands you your drink first, before making her own. you take a sip, grimacing at the strong taste of alcohol, “ellie!” the girly voice nearly causes you to wince as tiffany bounces up to the brunette; wrapping her arms around the back of ellie’s neck. you don’t see the way ellie forces a smile because your eyes are now glued to the red drink in your cup. “hey babe.” ellie greets her girlfriend, and the term of endearment causes a pang of pain to linger in your chest. you take a swig of your drink, and ellie looks over at you apologetically. you flash her a small, reassuring smile yet she can see it isn’t your usual smile.

ellie wants to say something to you, but before she can, dani makes her way back to you both. “uh, hey y/n.” the basketball player greets you, and you gratefully find an excuse to pry your gaze off of ellie and tiffany. “hey dani. how did you do on mr. lyndon’s quiz yesterday?” you ask her, and ellie tries not frown as she notices the way the taller girls eyes wander over your body. “i did terrible! i can’t believe midterms are next week. i’m not ready.” the tall girl admits and amusement glints in your eyes as you look up at her. “i like your necklace, by the way.” she adds, complimenting the silver necklace dangling off your collar bone. you smile brightly, your fingers going to play with the necklace your mother gave you before you left to college. you and your sisters all have the same one.

“thanks. my mom got it for me when i turned eighteen. i like your jacket.” you pull on the ends of her varsity jacket, batting your eyes up at her, and tiffany frowns as you don’t notice that ellie’s hard gaze is fixated on you. tiffany definitely notices, and it causes her to scowl. “wanna go smoke?” dani asks, pulling a joint out of her pocket. you grin, but ellie intervenes. “i already smoked her out.” the brunette clarifies, locking eyes with the jock and flashing her a warning look that makes you frown. dani looks at you, ignoring ellie and smirking right at you. “wanna go for round two, princess?” she asks, and something in ellie’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the sound of dani calling you “princess”.

“sure. i’m always down to smoke.” you say, and you flash ellie a look that she doesn’t recognize before you wrap yourself around the jocks arm. ellie keeps her eyes on you as you disappear out of the kitchen with dani, “looks like dani is getting lucky tonight.” tiffany declares, pulling ellie out of her thoughts. if ellie weren’t so preoccupied with thinking about you and dani, she would’ve found that comment strange. but ellie is high and she isn’t thinking about anything other than you giving those eyes to dani walsh.

ellie’s face twists at the mere thought of you hooking up with the raven haired girl tonight. ellie can’t come up with a single reason why she feels so upset about it; you’re single after all, and dani is undoubtedly every girls type. she shakes her head, “no. y/n’s not that kind of girl.” ellie says more to herself than to her girlfriend. tiffany scoffs, “did you not see what i saw? your friend is totally into her.” tiffany says as she takes ellie’s cup and takes a swig. she makes a face, “ugh. cranberry? seriously, ellie? you know i hate cranberry.” she mutters in disgusts, and ellie flashes her a sheepish smile.

“sorry, it was y/n’s drink choice.” the brunette replies, and tiffany rolls her eyes. “what?” ellie asks, detecting the clear annoyance that came from her saying your name. “nothing.” tiffany mutters and ellie rolls her eyes, a wave of frustration washing over her. “seriously, what’s wrong? you look pissed.” ellie points out, and the shorter girl flashes her a sardonic expression. “oh, now you noticed? you’ve been so preoccupied with y/n tonight, you haven’t even talked to me!” she snaps, and ellie’s eyes widen. “what!? you’re the one who ditched me as soon as we got here to hang out with your friends! what do you want me to do? follow you around like a puppy all night?” ellie begins to raise her voice, losing her cool.

“no i don’t want that! i want you to care about me more than you care about y/n!” she shouts, and ellie shakes her head in bewilderment. “what the fuck is your problem with her?! y/n’s my best friend, and i love her! i love you too, but fuck, tiffany!” ellie is clearly losing all the cool inside of her body, if she was angry before she’s even angrier now. “but what?” the blonde challenges, crossing her arms and flashing ellie a stern look. ellie goes quiet, “say it.” tiffany adds demandingly, and ellie scoffs, “say what?” she mumbles, playing dumb. “what you’ve always known but never had the balls to admit. you love me, but you’ll never love me as much as you love her.” tiffany snaps, and ellie can only stare at her with inscrutable features etched onto her face.

the silence is telling, and it seems to give tiffany the only answer she needs. “i’m done coming second in this relationship, ellie. you have to tell me right now… do you love me more or her?” tiffany’s voice is harsh and up for no debates. ellie lets out a breathless chuckle, more so because she’s surprised at the absurd question. “are you serious?” she questions, her voice laced with pure disbelief. tiffany is staring at her as if ellie is the crazy one, and it just now hits ellie that you’ve been alone with dani for over fifteen minutes.

“i don’t have time for your shit tonight, dani. y/n’s cross faded and i’m not gonna let her go home with some sleaze from the basketball team, all because you’re jealous.” she hisses, as she turns around to walk away, but tiffany stops her by reaching out and grabbing her arm. ellie spins and around to face her girlfriend; her patience wearing thin. “i’m jealous!? ellie, look at you! you’re going crazy because y/n might hook up with someone else!” she exasperatedly snaps, and the words seem to knock some sense into ellie. she glances down at her shoes, a bit ashamed; “look me in the eye and tell me right now that you’re not in love with her.” the shorter girl demands. ellie’s eyes lock with tiffany’s piercing blue eyes, and all she can think about is you.

you and your smile. you and your laugh. the way you say her name, and how you remember everything she says. the tiny scar on your back nobody else knows about. the way your eyes light up when you’re excited…

ellie wants to say no. she wants to be a good girlfriend and assure tiffany that she’s in love with her and only her… but as she thinks about your soft eyes being directed at some jock looking to get “lucky”, ellie knows she can’t say it. tiffany lets out a scoff, shaking her head before loosening her grip on ellie’s wrist. “you can’t even say it! you can’t even look at me and lie about it!” tiffany pushes her finger into ellie’s chest, and ellie feels an overwhelming sense of guilt as she begins to calm down. her thoughts seem to rationalize but she knows she’s already fucked up. “tiff…” she trails off, and the cheerleader shakes her head, tears pooling in her baby blue eyes.

“just go get her before she leaves with dani.” tiffany sounds defeated, and a part of ellie is telling her to stay and fix things with tiffany, but there’s a loud voice in her head telling her to go and make sure you haven’t left with that other girl. ellie doesn’t say anything else as she walks out of the kitchen, leaving dani alone. she’s certain whatever was left of the relationship is now over, but she can’t seem to care. you’re the only thing on her mind as her gaze flitters all over the room in search for you. her eyes zero in on dina who is dancing with someone ellie barely knows; the brunette doesn’t think twice before interrupting.

“have you seen y/n? she’s with dani and she’s pretty faded. i wanna make sure she’s okay.” ellie rushes the words out, sounding like a nervous wreck. dina stops dancing for a moment, raising a brow, “uh, i just talked to y/n like four minutes ago, she seemed fine. she said her and dani were gonna smoke and maybe walk back to her dorm.” dina winks insinuatingly, and ellie’s heart falls into the pit of her stomach.

“shit… did they leave through the front or back?” ellie sounds apprehensive, and it causes a wave of confusion to wash over the raven haired girl. “the front i think… wait why does it matter?” dina questions, and ellie shakes her head. “because all dani wants to do is get in y/n’s pants.” ellie hisses, and dina raises her brows in slight shock at the sudden outburst. she watches ellie rush off, and before she can think about chasing after her best friend, jesse swoops in and pushes past the guy dina had been dancing with. “mind if i cut in?” jesse asks hopefully, and dina nods happily, quickly forgetting about you and ellie.

ellie goes out the front door of the frat house, and her eyes flicker around in search for you. when her eyes land on you, her stomach knots up as she sees you’re now wearing dani’s jacket and saying something that ellie can’t make out. her eyes widen and her mind races, as you two begin walking in the direction of the dorm rooms. ellie’s heart nearly stops beating, and it’s like her body has a mind of its own as she begins to rush over in your direction. “y/n wait!” she calls out and you stop in your tracks, spinning around at the sound of your best friends voice.

“ellie?” you sound confused; whenever her and tiffany get together during a party like this, you almost never see her till the next day. “is everything okay?” you ask as she stalks up to you. she has this unrecognizable look etched onto her face, “i just… i needed to talk to you—“ ellie cuts herself off when she sees the smile that was on your face drop. “is it tiffany? did you guys fight again?” you ask, clearly concerned. dani looks at you, then ellie, “i can give you two a minute of you want.” she tells you, and you offer her a grateful smile. “i’ll be right there.” you promise, and ellie hates how soft your gaze is when it’s directed at the jock.

dani offers you an annoyingly charming smile before walking a few feet away from you and ellie. “what’s wrong? what happened with tiffany?” you you ask her, and ellie shakes her head. “since when is dani your type?” she completely ignores your question, going straight for what’s been bugging her all night. you look taken back by the disdain in her voice, causing you to let out a breathless chuckle. “how is she not my type? she’s cute, and nice…” you trail off, and ellie blows a raspberry with her mouth. “so that’s all it takes for you to hookup with someone?” she practically interrogates you, causing you to frown.

“excuse me?” you respond, the offense in your tone clear as day. “what’s your problem? just because we’re hitting it off and i’m going to let her walk me back to my dorm, doesn’t mean i’m going to let her screw me, ellie!” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down in order for dani not to hear. the brunette scoffs, “yeah, sure, did you see the way you were looking at her? plus you’re wearing her fucking jacket, and she’s been smoking you out… she thinks she’s getting lucky tonight.” ellie sounds angrier than you’ve ever heard, and you can’t for the life of you figure out why. “it doesn’t matter what she thinks, ellie. she’s not getting lucky tonight unless i say so!” you snap.

“besides, why do you even care so much about what i do with dani!? shouldn’t you be up tiffany’s ass like you always are?!” you know you sound much harsher than you ever do, which is why ellie suddenly has this kicked dog-like expression on her face. “i-i don’t care! i just don’t think it’s cool how she started preying on you and trying to get you all high. she’s a sleaze!” ellie argues, and you roll your eyes. “yeah, well, that’s up for me to decide. i’ll see you tomorrow, ellie. when we’re both sober.” your voice is lower than before, and you flash her one last look before turning around and making your way over to dani.

ellie pathetically watches as you and dani begin to leave together, and her heart plummets right into her stomach. tiffany’s words from earlier are ringing in her head; “you love me, but you’ll never love me as much as you love her.” ellie stupidly realizes tiffany was right. she loves you more than she’s ever loved anyone… yet as she watches dani entwine her hand with yours before you both disappear in the direction of the dormitory, she realizes you aren’t hers to love. and you certainly aren’t hers to lose.

a/n(PLEASE READ): here’s a one-shot i wrote earlier this month, i just finished the next part of “i’m right over here, why can’t you see me”. it should be posted by christmas, and yes i will be tagging everyone who commented on it 🖤 - vamp

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?��

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Fate, maybe? || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

Summary: after being each other’s celebrity crush and ending up dating, you both find out that you get the roles you have been auditioning for, as each other’s love interest. Sort’ve a part 2 to ‘And they meet’ go read it!!

Warnings: fem!reader

Wc: 1,192

A/n: yk I had to jump on to this when I found out that Olivia Cooke is gonna be the lead female actor for the new movie Tom is starring in (idk if it’s fully confirmed)

Tangled in each other’s embrace, the movie tangled playing in your living room as you both u mugs of coffee, the sudden ringing of your phone interrupted the moment.

Turning over your phone screen, your agent Lisa's name illuminates the display. Tom looks down at you, concern etched on his face. "Everything okay?" he inquires, and you hum in response, "Just my agent. I'll be back," you say, lifting the phone and rising, already yearning for the comfort of Tom's embrace left behind.

“Hello?” You say, closing the door behind you for some privacy. “Y/n I have great news!” You held your breathe, wondering what it could be. “You got the lead female for that movie you auditioned for a couple months back!” She excitedly squeals.

You lightly furrow your eyebrows, a brief pause betraying the effort to recall the specific movie amidst several recent auditions. Sensing your momentary confusion, Lisa interjects, "Sorry, I should've been more specific," and her chuckle follows, "A Farewell to Arms, remember?"

Your eyes sparkled with delight at the mere mention of the movie. "Oh my god, really?" you exclaimed, your hands instinctively covering your mouth in sheer excitement. "Yes! Congratulations, Y/n! You're going to do amazing in it! I'll email you more details," Lisa conveyed, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

“Thank you! I’ll wait for it,” You stare at yourself in the mirror with a huge smile. When you hand up the phone you start silently squealing, jumping up and down in excitement. You had read the novel and absolutely loved it so when you found out they were making a film adaptation of it, you jumped at the opportunity.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the living room, Tom also received a call from his agent. “Hello?” Tom places the phone to his ear. “Tom! Good morning!” Amanda’s voice rings through the phone. A smile makes it to his lips, “Morning Amanda,” He chuckles.

“I have some news for you! Are you alone right now?” She asks as Tom looks over his shoulder and to the stairs you had just gone up. “Yeah, yeah I’m alone” He says, turning back around.

“You know that audition you did a couple months ago for the movie, a farewell to arms?” Amanda’s voice was one of excitement, “Yeah?” He gulped, “Tom, you did it! You got the lead male role!” The words hung in the air, sinking into Tom’s consciousness.

A grin stretched across his face. Trying to contain his excitement, he thanked his agent and ended the call just as you walk down the stairs, a smile on your face.

"You seem happy," Tom offered his signature smile, and you chuckled in response. "Very," you chimed in a sing-song voice, approaching Tom, who remained seated on the couch. Your arms gracefully wrapped around his neck, and you showered kisses along the side of his face.

You wanted to tell Tom about the role you just got but knew you weren’t allowed to until they officially released the news. So for now, you had to keep a secret from your boyfriend. Same went for Tom, he was dying to tell you about the role he just landed but, he had to wait.

~

You scrambled around the house in search of your scarf. “Babe! Have you seen my scarf?” You call out as Tom rushes to find his shoes. “The black one?” He calls back, tying his shoes. “Yeah!” “They’re on the counter here!” He picks up your scarf just as you come down the stairs.

You gratefully smile at him as he wraps it around your neck, “There, gorgeous,” His hands rest on your shoulder for a bit as he studies you. You lean in to press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I gotta go, my drivers here,” You sigh as you sling your bag across your shoulder. “I think my driver will be here soon, have a good day today,” He grins, tucking his keys in his pockets.

The two of you were going to be out for the whole day. You were off to do a chemistry test with whoever the lead male was, and Tom was doing the exact same, but for whoever the lead female was. Little did the two of you know that you’d be seeing each other very soon.

You give him a final peck as you go on your tippy toes before leaving the house, getting into the car and driving off. The whole car ride there you were slightly nervous. Your head was swimming with thoughts about who would the male lead be.

Would we get along? Will we have chemistry? What if we don’t? Your thoughts came to a stop when the car came to a halt infront of a building. “Have a good day, Y/n. Hope everything goes well!” Trevor, your driver smiles at you. “Thanks Trevor, I hope so too,” You chuckle opening the car door and stepping out.

You were a couple minutes early but they let you wait inside. Your leg was slightly bouncing as you watch the clock on the wall. The male lead would be here any minute now.

Suddenly, the door opened where a young woman peeked her head out of, “Y/n Y/l/n?” “Yes?” You stand up, grabbing your things. The woman’s eyes look around the room, “Oh, he hasn’t arrived yet. That’s okay, you can start getting ready for chemistry test,” She smiles sweetly at you as you nod, following her.

She hands you a piece of paper with lines from a scene for the movie. As you scanned the words, a voice resonates from outside, "I'm so sorry I'm late! Traffic was horrible," a masculine voice apologizes, prompting you to lift your head toward the door.

It began to open and you swore your heart nearly stopped beating. “Tom?” Your jaw drops open as he freezes. “Y/n?” “What are you doing here?” You both say in sync as you burst out into laughter. Your eyes then move to the young woman who was grinning from to ear.

"I'm here for a chemistry test..." you trail off, and he responds, "Me too." The realization dawns on both of you, and smiles effortlessly spread across your faces. "So, this was the new project you're working on?" Tom chuckles, moving closer as you nod. "Oh my god, what a coincidence," you shake your head in disbelief.

"Who knew we'd be starring in the same movie together as lovers," he chuckled. "Crazy, right?" You smiled at him, and he kissed your cheek. The chemistry test kicked off seamlessly, a testament to the natural connection between you two. Being together made it a breeze, and the rapport you shared translated effortlessly into the scene, setting the tone for an easy journey while fillings

"The casting directors had already chosen you well before they found out that you two were dating," the young woman chuckled, skillfully removing the camera from its stand. A shared smile passed between you and Tom, a subtle acknowledgment of the serendipity that brought you together on and off the screen.