#getting back into the swing of writing!!

[robo-writing]

Logan with a praise kink <3 (18+)

There’s something deep inside him that he refuses to acknowledge—maybe it’s instinct. A need rather than a want, one that has been neglected for far too long. One that he hadn’t even realized until you became a part of his life—the need to feel wanted.

“Logan, could you—“

He’s on his feet within before you can finish your sentence, almost hovering over you. “What’dya need?”

You point to the plates on the shelf, farther than you can manage to reach. You smile at him when he grabs them for you, giving a kiss to his cheek when you take them from his hands.

“Thank you baby,” you say, and his heart melts.

For the longest time he believed he was a lone wolf, solitary and isolated. He did better without anyone dragging him down, or so he thought until he was shown otherwise. The X-Men, and then you—he especially enjoys being with you. Makes him feel fuzzy and warm inside knowing you actually want him around.

It feels good. He doesn’t realize how good until he’s balls deep inside you.

You’re always so pliant for him, willing and ready to indulge his every sinful desire, arms open and legs spread. Inviting. Between tangled sheets and hushed whispers you make him feel alive. You make him feel like a man, and not a monster.

“Make me feel so good,” you moan, running your hands through his hair. His ego inflates with every word, hypnotized by you.

“Yeah? Say it again for me darling,” he says, bringing you further and further onto his cock. Your eyes roll back, barely able to respond when his dick makes it hard to breathe, thrusting up into you like a man starved.

“You—fuck—make me feel good—“

You cry out his praise like worship, too lust-adled to give a damn about your volume. Maybe it’s the saccharine tone you use, or maybe it’s the aphrodisiatic look you give him, but he needs more of it—more of you.

Without warning his hips move against your own, grinding into your pussy. Slow, calculated, he watches your eyes roll back in pleasure as he presses against your soft spots each and every time.

“Say it again baby, tell me how good I make you feel,” he grunts, enjoying how you thrash around his cock. His words alone make you embarrassingly hot, your head falling to his shoulders as you weakly cry his name.

Your voice hiccups with each thrust, every noise that escapes you directly in his ear. “S good Lo’, need you—please—“

His grin stretches wide at your words. “You need me baby, is that it?”

“Yes,” you moan, “need you to fuck me—“

You beg him so nicely, nails climbing up his back in search for more. Your hips find a rhythm of their own against his, a silent plea to fuck you like you need it.

His words alone make you embarrassingly hot, your head falling to his shoulders as you weakly cry his name. Your voice hiccups with each thrust, every noise that escapes you directly in his ear as you come, coating his dick in your juices—

Yeah, he could get used to this.

[zephyrchama]

(Obey Me! Belphegor and MC. The problem with naps.)

You were in trouble.

It had been several hours since you were able to move. Your legs were heavy, most likely numb. You wanted nothing more than to kick and stretch out your neglected muscles. The battery on your D.D.D. was running low.

Belphegor was deaf to the world, his nose buried in your naval with arms coiled around your waist. He was the world's clingiest lap blanket. Despite bending his knees, Belphegor's feet stuck out over the edge of the couch. You had tried fruitlessly over the hours to wake him, but things were getting dire.

You poked at his cheek. Slow and soft at first, but with increasing intensity until you reached a point where Leviathan himself would have recruited you for a button-mashing game.

"Belphie. Belphegor. Belphegor. Belphie. Belph. Belphegor. Hey!!"

You whacked his forehead with your D.D.D. There was no response. You sunk back into the couch cushions to create a bit of distance between your stomach and the demon's face. The next plan was to pinch his nose.

This was also futile. Belphegor clearly stopped inhaling and appeared fine, but such a length of time without breathing would cause brain damage in humans. It disturbed you. He was probably fine, being a demon and all. It was still concerning. You squeezed his nostrils until the excessive passage of time made you uncomfortable and let go. A couple of seconds went by before Belphegor breathed in with a loud snore. Any sense of relief was quickly and easily washed away by annoyance.

You groaned and leaned forward over the demon's head, placing your elbows on the edge of your knees to better cradle your face in your hands with despair. You balled your hands into fists, pressing them against your forehead, and let out a wail.

"Belphie, I'm begging you. Wake up."

Silence. You felt like you were going to explode.

"I have to pee."

You might as well have been talking to a large rock. The demon's weight on your lower stomach was not helping the situation. In an ideal world, you would have reached the bathroom over an hour ago. You leaned back once more and stared dismally at the sleeping figure in your lap. You were running out of options.

"Hear me, Denizens of Darkness. I am Master of Belphegor, Avatar of Sloth. Heed my call and do as I command. Get off of me!"

Wisps of magic curled up your arms, dancing across your neck and face. Its light made everything brighter. Traces of powerful energy - Belphegor's own energy - blew through your hair, whooshing past your ears. Belphegor was forcefully shifted into his demon form and rolled off the couch with all the grace of a baby chick learning to fly.

A deep rumble escaped his throat at the rude awakening. Belphegor lifted himself up in a daze. The fluff on his tail stood on edge as it swung turbulently from side to side. He clenched his jaw, barring his teeth menacingly. "What are you doing?"

You had already seized the chance to leap up. Only, your legs betrayed you. There was no strength to stand and you fumbled over onto Belphegor, colliding with his back. You both momentarily flailed on the ground.

"Explain yourself," he growled while you struggled to stand. Blips of magic were evaporating off your clothes, adding to the disorientation.

"Carry me!" you demanded. "That'll be faster, you've gotta carry me."

Even if you buckled your legs together to hold things in, you worried that wobbling down the hallway with jelly legs would be an impossible endeavor.

Belphegor looked at you the same way he would look at a diseased toad. With no context, he was wholly confused.

"I need the bathroom, now!" It was all you could think of. Magic started swirling at your wrists again as you began to chant, "Heed my words, in the name of the sorcerer..."

"Ok, ok! Wait!" Belphegor scrambled to his feet. He winced at the thought of being commanded again. His chest tightened, already afflicted by the start of your spell.

You had your knees locked together, digging your nails into your palm in a desperate attempt to hold your bladder in. It wasn't the best pose for being picked up. Belphegor did his best. He couldn't carry you in the elegant, suave manner he liked to dream about. Instead, he held you with both arms like an oversized bag of potatoes.

"Go, go, go!" Time was of the essence. He was slow to get a move on, so you beat on his shoulder with your fist. "This is all your fault!"

Belphegor blew a strand of hair out of his face. His expression was a sour frown. He was still cranky from being woken up. "Fine. Just hang on."

You don't get to see the demons use their abilities often. They like to play human in front of you. Unfortunately, with your head buried in Belphegor's hoodie and your mind occupied with other worries, you did not have the luxury to admire the way he bounded through the house with hardly perceptible speed. In just a few quick steps, not even five seconds later, you had arrived at your long-awaited destination.

You rolled out of Belphegor's arms and hastily slammed the door shut in the confused demon's face.

The Avatar of Sloth skulked across the hall to lean against the wall opposite the bathroom door. Now alone with his thoughts, he had ample time to get his mind in order and plan out exactly how to get revenge when you came back out.

[deviouz]

. . . WILDFLOWER !

a/n: just a little drabble about satoru and a chubby coded!reader <3

“Satoru, what are you doing?”

“‘m just admiring you.”

From your sprawled out position on the couch, you lifted your head up and glanced away from your phone to look at Satoru. He had nestled his way between your legs, toned arms going to wrap around your middle while his head laid on the plush of your stomach. From what you had gathered, he looked content. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and his eyes closed, allowing the white of his lashes to dance across his cheeks.

A sudden bout of anxiety flooded throughout your mind, rendering your muscles tense and nails digging into your palms.

You weren’t blind. While Satoru was the ever attentive boyfriend, there were only so many times you could resist the dread that wracked your skeptical mind. You were aware of what other people said, sometimes when out of audible range and sometimes not. The beauty standards were unfair and scarcely regarded your body type as something to be viewed as beautiful.

“You’re thinking again,” came a huffed out voice, dragging you away from the depths of your mind, “you’re tense. What’s wrong?”

Forcing your muscles to relax, your head dropped back down, cushioned by the pillowy fabric beneath.

“Nothing.”

Satoru groaned, long and definitely played up for a dramatic flair, ever so in character. “You know I can tell when you lie, right? It’s my super power. I’m like Daredevil.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “When were you gonna tell me you have superhuman hearing?”

Satoru caged you between his arms, leaning over you with a smirk. “What do you think the glasses are for, sweetheart?”

His head dipped down, nose briefly brushing against your own before his lips captured yours into a gentle kiss. It conveyed every emotion he felt about you — happiness, safety, and an overwhelming amount of love.

The kiss could have lasted hours, for all you knew. By the time the two of you had separated, Satoru’s lips were a little pinker and swollen, pretty eyes garnering nothing but a profound adoration and fondness.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life.”

Although the words were whispered, they rang about in your head, reverberating into your very core. The stunned look must have given you away, as Satoru was quick to cover your face with kisses and continue whispering compliment after compliment until your eyes glazed over with tears and lower lip began to tremble.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know. Don’t forget that, okay?”

[pizzaqueen]

Based on my post, which was based on a part in one of my fics haha

Another first kiss with a silly twist / rated T

Steve isn’t expecting it, when Eddie leans in. It’s not like it totally comes out of nowhere—there have been signs and things have been building—but he’s not expecting it in this moment. So, before he processes what’s happening, he jerks back. He can tell from the look on Eddie’s face, Eddie wasn’t expecting that.

Panic flashes in Steve’s chest. He opens his mouth to explain but then—

But then—

But then Eddie fucking headbutts him. What the hell?

It happens too quickly for Steve to dodge it—he only has a moment of thank fuck, he’s going to try again before their heads connect, hard enough that it hurts. Not a lot, but enough.

“Ow,” Steve says, rubbing his head, “what the hell, man?”

“What?”

“‘What?’” Steve rolls his eyes. “Why did you headbutt me?”

Eddie makes a face and shrugs.

Steve crosses his arms. “I thought you were going to…”

“Going to what?”

“Nothing,” Steve murmurs. He was sure Eddie was going to kiss him. But maybe Eddie was just being Eddie. Or, Steve thinks, glancing at Eddie sidelong, noting the look on his face, maybe he panicked after Steve panicked. Hm. “Thanks for the concussion, by the way.”

“Compliments of the house.”

“So, I guess that means no refunds or exchanges then?”

Eddie looks at Steve, searching his face. “What would you want to exchange it for?”

“Well,” Steve says, leaning toward Eddie, not missing the way Eddie’s gaze dips to his mouth, “I was thinking maybe this…” And, oh, Eddie was definitely going to kiss him. He smirks and leans in even closer and then he reaches up and he pinches Eddie’s nipple. Hard.

“Ow!” Eddie punches Steve’s shoulder. “What the fuck?”

“You headbutted me.”

“Only because you pulled away when I was going to—”

“Going to what?”

Eddie narrows his eyes, tilts his head.

And Steve can tell he’s thinking about whether or not he should tell Steve, and Steve gets it, but he’s also impatient. So, he sighs and he leans in again. Eddie blinks, and covers his chest protectively, but he doesn’t pull away. And, this time, when Steve reaches out, it’s to cup Eddie’s face. And, this time, when they lean toward each other, it’s their lips that meet. Gently and sweetly. And so so good.

“I didn’t mean to pull away,” Steve says, barely breaking the kiss.

“And I didn’t mean to headbutt you.”

Steve huffs and shoves Eddie lightly; Eddie grabs him and pulls him into another kiss. But he pulls a little too hard and they both lose their balance and end up on the floor.

The full weight of Eddie lands on Steve; Eddie presses his face into Steve’s neck, breath hot as he laughs. Steve groans. “I’m going to have to start wearing protective gear around you.”

Eddie pulls back. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Or flat on my back.”

Eddie grins, tongue between his teeth.

Steve flushes. Before Eddie can say anything else, he shifts their weight, flipping them over.

“This works too,” Eddie says, eyes bright, a little breathless. He loops his arms around Steve’s neck, butting their foreheads together, gently now, before he leans up to bite Steve’s jaw.

Steve shakes his head—“You’re a liability”—and kisses Eddie again. He doesn’t plan on pulling away for a long time.

[raineandsky]

#120

When the villains caught wind of a new hero on the team, they’d all taken interest. When someone came back claiming he’s blind, it’d sparked a whole new debate.

Straightforward, they’d all said. He won’t even see us coming. They’d laughed at how easy it’d seemed.

The villain feels like they’ve stumbled on a pile of gold when they come across the hero. He’s running his hand along something on the fence in front of him, something that the villain will later realise is a braille description of the view ahead of him. A white cape drifts around his ankles, an equally white suit flattering against his typical heroic body, the lightest of smiles on his face as his fingers trace the patterns of dots along the railing.

The villain can’t help but grin as they slowly make their way towards the poor hero, so oblivious, so stupid. They’re barely a hair breadth away, their dagger practically unsheathing itself, when the hero spins towards them with a swish of his cape and a flick of a blade.

The villain barely reels back in time. Staying quiet doesn’t occur to them when they’re startled. The hero looks like he’s staring right through them, an arrogant smirk on his face.

“Ah,” he says brightly, “you’re one of those criminals I’m meant to be looking out for?”

The villain sidesteps, careful to keep their footing quiet, but it doesn’t matter. The hero’s head cocks towards them as they try to step out of his blade’s path.

“You’re almost silent,” the hero continues. A smirk adorns his face, intrigued. “Incredible.”

The villain is close enough to strike, the hero looking slightly too far beyond them to be right in his assumptions. The villain shifts in fast, their dagger poised. The hero dodges back and retaliates with a swing of his own.

The villain stumbles out of reach and the hero follows. The villain’s unprepared; they were expecting a hero who’s unsure who they’re looking for, where the villain is. They were expecting an easy plaything that they could stab when they got bored.

But this—the hero is nothing but brazen confidence.

The villain shoves their dagger up to meet his blade, throwing his arm out. They move in for another strike but the hero’s already recovered. His blade easily tucks under their arm and slices into their side.

Something of a strangled gasp escapes the villain before they can stop it. They stagger back, a hand touched timidly to the wound, their eyes flitting back up to the hero. He simply waits, his blade crimson and his eyes blank. How? How?

“Would you do me the honour of telling me who I’ve met?” he asks, as if this is nothing more than a casual meeting between friends of friends. The villain wants to snap him in half for the audacity.

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.”

“Aha,” the hero says, almost a laugh, “You’re [Villain].”

The villain can only stare at him in horror. The hero seems to feel the tension in the silence, because he continues. “You’ve a bad mouth, favour in the blade, light on your feet.” A teasing smile. “And you’ve a smooth, caramel voice I haven’t heard in many like you.”

“Wh— Excuse me— You—” 

The hero just smirks, the stupid smirk of someone who knows he’s untouchable in every sense of the word. “Flustered by compliments, too,” the hero finishes with a laugh. “Good to remember for next time.”

“I’m not flustered!” the villain finally manages, “and my voice isn’t caramel. That isn’t a thing. You sound stupid.”

“I’m happy to be stupid if it means I can recognise you as the villain who speaks in caramel.”

The villain’s side is beginning to really ache. They need to be somewhere that’s not here when it inevitably gets worse. “Do what you want. I’m going home.”

“May I escort you to a prison cell?”

The villain barks a laugh, their side practically splitting with the forced fakeness of it. “As if you know where the agency is from here.”

“I always know where I am, [Villain].” A smile again, softer this time. Knowing. “You underestimate me for a characteristic I think makes me as interesting to you as you are to me.”

The burn in the villain’s skin is an ode to that. “Sure.” The villain turns on their heel before a thought occurs to them. “I’m going to walk away, loudly. Do me a favour and don’t fucking shank me when I do.”

The hero’s face twists back into a smirk. “As long as I hear you moving away. Until next time, [Villain].”

A blind hero! everyone had cried. It’s almost too easy!

The villain scurries away with a gash to the side and a slam to their ego, and they know now to know better than that.

[delusionisaplace]

Could you do safeword prompts but like only if you’re comfortable if you’re not that’s completely fine :) I loved your aftercare ones

hi anon!! thanks for the ask (and the compliment lmao)

“𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣…” 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

have fun with these :) | if yall want more prompts like this, jus drop an ask nd ill respond as soon as possible | tag me if you use any bc i love seeing what you guys write :))

“Say the word and I’ll stop.”

“You know that you can say it if you need to?”

“I won’t get mad if you need to use it.”

“I can stop if you need me to. Just say when.”

“Do you remember our safeword?”

“If you need to stop, say when—I won’t judge.”

“Tell me if I cross the line, okay?”

“Let me know if you need a break.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s okay if you changed your mind.”

“There’s no pressure to keep going, alright? We can stop whenever.”

“ If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

“There’s no shame in using it if you absolutely need to.”

“If it's too much, speak up."

"I care about your boundaries.”

“Tell me anytime you're not okay."

also so sorry anon i left this ask unanswered for so long—i kinda forgot i posted prompts 😅

[beefcakekinard]

💖💖// bucktommy - ohithankyou/zahraa <333

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out (hi zahraa!! i'll tag you so you get the notification: @ohithankyou 🥰)

Buck is about ready to crawl out of his own skin if Tommy doesn't touch him in the next five minutes.

They're on Tommy's couch - this is already one of Buck's favourite places to be, it being (a) in Tommy's house, which smells warm like cinnamon and warm like Tommy all around him; (b) unfairly comfortable; and (c) a conveniently flat surface he can leverage against to climb his boyfriend. Case in point: he's straddled across Tommy's lap, pressed as close as he can get from chest to crotch, rolling his hips in unconscious, twitching little bursts, as unfulfilling now as they were half an hour ago when Buck first dropped himself into Tommy's lap.

"How are you doing?" Tommy asks more or less directly into Buck's mouth. Buck groans in frustration and bites Tommy's lower lip.

"About to crawl out of my own skin if you don't-"

"Copy that," Tommy chuckles. He presses a kiss to the corner of Buck's mouth. His hands slide up Buck's thighs to his belt, and as they work on it, Buck kisses a path from Tommy's lips, to his cleft, down his jaw to the spot on his neck where he's most sensitive.

The only sound in the room is both of their panting for breath - it's joined for a moment by the metal clicking of Buck's zipper. Tommy lifts his hand to Buck's face, and Buck licks up his palm with a wet noise. The sound Buck makes after that, when Tommy wastes no time in getting his hand around him in a firm, warm grip, is nothing short of wanton.

The skin of Tommy's neck is hot and damp from Buck's open-mouthed breathing. He drags his teeth across it and Tommy gasps just as he slips his thumb across the head of Buck's dick, pulling a whine from Buck's throat. The pass of Tommy's hand up and down Buck's cock, the silky, unrelenting drag of his grip, grows slicker.

"C'mere." Tommy's voice rumbles in his throat, against Buck's teeth, his lips. Tommy threads his free hand into Buck's hair and pulls him up by it, up and into a clumsy kiss.

Buck clutches Tommy's shoulders and rides the back-and-forth teetering pleasure between rutting into Tommy's hand and being held fast in a kiss. He sweeps his tongue up the roof of Tommy's mouth and swallows his groan; he fucks into Tommy's fist and loses his breath at the perfect in-and-out slide. Caught between the two, Buck feels scraped raw and primal, instinctive, following what Tommy and his body are telling him feels good. When he comes, he's pulled in two directions, caught between the competing sensations. Tommy pecks sweet little kisses over Buck's lips and wipes his hand on Buck's already-stained jeans. Buck loosens his white-knuckle grip on Tommy's shoulders, knocks their noses together, and grins.

He's just getting started.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Beetlejuice x AFAB!Reader || Drabble+Smut

Plot: You bet him he couldn't leave you alone (stop harassing you) for even one day, not realising that he would take winning s o seriously, but he's a stubborn old fuck so now its been weeks, and he still wont give in. And well... now you kinda miss him. Ironic, huh?

Warnings: Smut. Reader is DOWN BAD, FED UP AND WANTS THAT PERVERT DICK. A little daddy kink, panty stealing, creampie (WRAP IT BEFORE YA TAP IT. Especially with this guy 😅 We dunno what he has 😅), at points its even kinda f l u f f y?? I tried to connect with different facets of Beetlejuice 😅🤣 XD Unedited.

"Stay fucken still." That raspy voice sounding a hundred shades of pissed o f f creeping directly in your ear, as well as the boner you're sitting on, do absolutely the opposite to what he wants. They do not deescalate anything- in fact, you just feel even more turned on. Jesus christ, who knew it would only take 2 weeks no-contact for you to find him attractive.

But-- b o y, do you see it now.

Yeah he's mucky, but thats part of it?? The harsh mossy stubble and forearm hair (When he rolls up his sleeves), the deep greasy racoon bags around his dark beady eyes, the crazy hair that will not be tamed, everything. You know its kind of fucked up, but you have never wanted someone so bad. And if it weren't for that stupid bet 2 weeks ago-- you would have him! Goddamnit. You and your big mouth.

"Come on BJ," You urge softly, using the tip of your finger to guide his face towards you even as every muscle in his face fights to stay strong and remain stern- and most importantly, avoid looking at you. "Look at me." The ghost with the most hadn't looked at you since he accepted the bet, afraid of seeing you and immediately losing. Immediately being unable to keep his nasty eyes- hands- mouth, off of you.

He's been so strong. So boneheaded-ly strong.

Meanwhile you've been going crazy thinking about him stuffing you with his cock and then keeping your dirty underwear after.

Now sat atop his lap, face-forward, you intend to get him to look at you again and break his resolve. If it is the last thing you do tonight. Or for the week.

"I am lookin' at you." His face barely moves; the words coming out forced and humourless. No tone at all. But you can feel his cock painfully hard stretching the seam on his pants, and your underwear. Probably an embarrassing wet spot, too. "Whadaya mean."

You're so close he can surely feel your warm breath on his face. Giving his nose a cute little brush with your own, you feel his dick twitch in his black and white striped pants and a slow grin worms it way onto your lips. "No you're not... come on. Please, BJ?" With round eyes, you pout a little. "I miss you."

With that, he gives a frustrated and animated groan, and finally looks down from just past your head- to your eyes, causing a delighted smile to slip across your face. "Come on now baby- thats not fair at all. Come on."

You throw your arms around his neck as a familiarly slimy, hot, sex-crazed grin spreads across his grimy mouth. That wild look that apparently you love appearing in his eyes again, looking down at you- all over. Licking over your pretty willing body with just a look. "You didn't give me a choice!!"

"Hey, hey, hey- you bet me, sugar- "

"Hey. You gonna take your chance and fuck me, or not?"

He shrugs. "Well when you're right, you're right." Then he kisses you open-mouthed and all-tongue and just how you imagined he would kiss, and swallows any giggle you were going to give. Along with all your thoughts.

~

Neither of you can bring yourselves to perform any foreplay- even though you want to. Want to enjoy this; grind in his lap a while longer, feel his tongue in your cunt, tease him with your lips warm and tongue damp over the top of his pants- But you're more then wet enough already, the fabric of your underwear sticks to your pussy lips, and his obviously rock-hard boner fights to tear a hole in its confines. You'll have time for all that fun stuff later, anyway.

You barely have time to properly taste each other's tongues for the first time before his greedy fingers are digging under your skirt, underneath your underwear, and slipping easily right into you. Too easily, shit. He gives a filthy groan, getting 3 of his fingers good and drenched in your slick; feeling your pretty cunt squeeze 'em. "Fuck, honey, I think this is the best pussy I ever had."

Breathless, you give a giggle; forehead pressed into his shoulder at just the feeling of his fingers invading you; hips juttering slightly into is hand. "You haven't even had me yet."

"Lets fix that, then, shall we? Now."

Your fingers go down to the button on his pants and eagerly, with deft fingers, undo it. He's not wearing underpants, predictably, so you just have to reach in and carefully finagle his fat cock free. Then you swipe a finger over the insanely leaky tip for fun and watch his head fall back against the wall, listening to the wildly horny, gutteral groan come out of him at the feeling.

He clicks his fingers and your underwear disappears. You see it reappear in his hand a last time, just before he shoves it in his jacket pocket; flashing you a cheesy grin. "Souvenir."

When finally, finally you sink down on his gross cock you both let out sighs of utter satisfaction. 2 weeks was a hell of an edge.

You're almost happy to just sit there with him stretching you open, milking him with your pussy, but when he shifts his hips, just getting more comfortable and laying his hands on your hips, the movement sparks a change of mind. "BJ... " You wrap your legs more securely around him, around the back of the chair he's sat in, and lift your hands to grip the lapels on his jacket. Your eyes meet his very dark, lusty ones. Just watching you; a little scary and a little smug and a little pussy drunk. "... fuck me."

"P l e a s e?"

"Please, daddy."

His eyes roll into the back of his head and dramatically huffs, making you giggle. "Oh fuck, baby, you really know howta murder a guy." With all his strength, he pulls himself back together; straightening up again. "Alright, alright- hold on, daddy's gonna take you on a ride."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even make noise, you blink and you're in another position entirely. Off the chair now, you find yourself pressed against a nearby wall, your legs still wrapped around him and his cock still throbbing inside you.

While you're feeling dizzy from teleporting, Beetlejuice pulls almost all the way out of your messy cunt and thrusts all the way back in- hard. He does it again. Then the pace picks up and he's pounding you into the wall at an inhuman pace that has you hiding your face in his shoulder again and knotting your fingers tight in his greasy hair.

Your orgasm builds up at a record pace, due to all the build up. It would be embarrassing, if he wasn't fighting not to paint your insides already himself. "I gotta- I gotta be honest, sweetie, I- I don't think daddy's gonna last long in this cat. Not this time. The way you're suckin me in- Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck. Pullin' my hair- Damn, shit, Fuck!- " Finally, BJ mashes his groin against yours and holds himself there; cumming hard inside you.

That causes your orgasm, rolling your hips against him and riding it out, making him shudder out a sigh. A vulgar dopey grin flickers across his jawline and black teeth.

... After a few minutes of heavy breathing- you catching your breath, and him just 'livin in it', enjoying the feel of breather meat for a while longer, you finally pull yourself together and raise your head carefully off his chest. "Um... " Suddenly you feel awkward. But not uncomfortable. You give a small, tired smile. "I don't know what to say?"

"... " He ducks down and presses his forehead to yours, and you're fooled for just a moment that this might be a sweet moment. "Uh. How about 'you win the bet, handsome?'."

Quickly you swat him, laughing. "Oh- Never!"

[wreckedandpolemic]

she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy

part iii - if we're gonna do anything...

(mdni) hahahahaha... heyyy... been a while huh?

warnings: 18+, drug use, unprotected sex, cheating

Being home is suffocating you. You love your hometown, really, you do, but you’ve gotten so used to reaching out and grasping a starless London night that the stickers on your ceiling feel mocking. Like you’ve stepped back into the body of the girl whose room this used to be, and her skin is two sizes too small. Every time your mother reprimands you for being out late, or swearing, or smoking, you remind yourself that you’re five minutes closer to being back in London, hundreds of miles away and outside your family’s sphere of control. 

Being with Matty is different, though. He tugs you out of that too-tight skin, leaves you loose-limbed and free. You tell him as much, laying back against his wrinkled, black sheets, a joint burning down between his fingers and smoke hanging in the air. His answering smile is gorgeous, big and bright and a little dopey from the weed. A slow song you can’t pin down crackles from his vintage record player. “Shotgun?” he offers, and you grin, straddling him as he fills his lungs with smoke. Your lips hover over his, your hair falling in a curtain around your faces, shrouding you in fitting secret. He blows the smoke into your waiting mouth and you inhale greedily, certain a faint taste of him lingers in your lungs. You lift your head to exhale, blowing rings just to show off.

He stubs the joint out on his bedframe and flings the roach into the corner of his room, planting both his hands firmly on your hips. You’re crossing that line again; your feet have swept across it so many times since you came home that it’s faded from an all-encompassing warning bell to a faint, familiar tick. You press a kiss to his lips, savouring his responding giggle, your high wrapping the pair of you in a blanket that muffles the outside world. His arms snake around your back, tracing soothing circles over your skin. You relax into his chest, the warmth of his skin soaking into yours. Time drips over you like honey and you don’t know how long you lay like that, relaxed in his embrace.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs absently, petting your hair.

You kiss his chest softly, praise spinning in your slow-moving mind like a coin set on its edge. “Flatterer,” you reply, his gaze kindling a spark in your chest. The album ends, the last notes hanging in the air for a moment before fading away. The silence is tender, pleasant. Matty shifts, freeing his arm from under you and you whine, clinging feebly onto him as he rolls off the bed.

You watch him pick his way across his messy room to where his guitar leans against his bookshelf, smiling softly when he picks it up. He sits cross-legged, back against the wall, cradling the guitar lovingly in his lap. He strums idly, chords humming sweetly in the warm air and washing comfortably over you. “Mind if I play you something, love?”

“Please,” you reply, sitting up so you can see him properly. He teases a few more notes from the strings, then sings along in a low, quiet voice. You’re a little too stoned to process the individual words, but you know intrinsically that he’s singing to you, for you, about you. A solid lump of emotion rises in your throat, your cotton-mouth too dry to swallow it back down.

The song ends after some indeterminate amount of time, its linear passage having escaped you long ago. “D’you like it?” he asks, and you nod. It’s just about the loveliest thing you’ve ever heard; the romance of this tortured artist so dichotomous from what you’re used to. “Good,” he says shortly. “‘Cause otherwise that would’ve been well embarrassing.” Turning to start another record, he takes a deep breath and exhales shakily, unfamiliarly and uncharacteristically nervous. “This isn’t, um… We’re having fun, right?”

You tilt your head at him, hazy brain preventing you from reading his tone. “Yeah. ‘Course we are.” You turn a sleazy, charming grin on him, one you realise you learned from him. “Why?”

He smiles at you, a sweet, lovely thing, a far cry from the filthy, teasing smirks you’re used to. “I just…” He shakes his head as you fascinate yourself twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Never mind. You’re so stoned.” He huffs a fond laugh and props the guitar back up against the bookshelf.

A dazed laugh bubbles up out of your throat. “Yep,” You pop the ‘p’ loudly, smacking your lips so the noise repeats over and over. “Fuck, your shit is so strong. I feel like my bones are glue. Does that make sense?”

He crawls back up the bed next to you, slipping a hand under your shirt to stroke fond circles into your skin. “No,” he laughs. “But you’re cute,” he adds.

“So are you,” you say, poking the tip of his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles at the way his face scrunches in response. He kisses you lazily, tongue sweeping your mouth in slow, languid strokes; he kisses you just to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair and smiling against your mouth.

Time passes, your head clears, the platter spins and the sun sinks lower in the sky. It’s dusk by the time you peel yourself out of Matty’s bed and shrug your jacket back on. You’re regretful, gathering your things slowly, casting doleful looks at the warmth of his bed as you inch toward the door. “Just stay, love,” Matty tells you, grinning at the relief on your face.

You don’t bother double-checking, just dropping your bag and jacket and falling back into bed with him. “Thank you, darling,” you grin, pressing your lips against his just to feel them warm on your skin. “You and me, alone together in bed all night… whatever will we get up to?” you tease, hands wandering over his chest playfully.

“I have a few ideas,” he smirks, hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing. You tug his shirt off his body, kissing your way down his bare chest. His hand catches yours as you go to unbutton his jeans and you look up at him curiously before pressing a palm against his clothed dick. “C’mon, love. We’ve got all night. Right now, I wanna make you feel so good you forget his fucking name.”

Your thighs clench at his words; the possessiveness in his tone grips you. “Fuck, Matty,” you whine, sudden heat flooding your body and pooling at your core. “Off, off, now,” you whine, yanking off his jeans and boxers in one motion and wrapping your hand around his hardening cock. It’s almost a reversal of last time; in Matty’s room, now, his skin bare while you’re clothed. Slowly, you pump his cock again, relishing the way his hips twitch under your touch.

You kick off your own jeans and crawl back up the bed, leaning towards Matty as he roams his hands down to the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. Deft fingers work at the clasp of your bra and pinch your nipple as you slip the fabric off your body. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, gazing intently at your bare tits.

Sitting up, Matty climbs on top of you, kissing you hard and tracing a finger over the outside of your panties. A shiver runs through you and you grind against his hand, the fabric of your underwear scraping deliciously over your clit. You slide down the pillows so the pair of you are horizontal, looking up and losing yourself for a second in Matty’s big, brown eyes, liquid pools of fathomless desire. He tugs your panties down your legs, rubbing slow circles into your clit and swallowing your responding moan with a kiss. “Shit, Matty, come on,” you whine, rolling your hips against him.

“We have all night, love. Don't you wanna take it slow?” he murmurs, speeding up his motions at your clit. Liquid pleasure drips down your spine, blooming hot in your veins. A whine falls from your lips as he slips a finger into you, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he sets a torturously slow rhythm.

You groan. He’s so devoted to dragging everything out, insisting on toying with every encounter; you’re aching for it already. “No,” you retort. “Shut up and fuck me.” Weak bursts of heat rattle through you, insufficient, ramping up your desire as you kiss Matty desperately.

“So impatient,” he tuts, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and dropping his head to kiss your neck. “How do you want it?” he murmurs against your skin. Your stomach clenches at his words, unused to the care he takes with you, his lips reverent on your skin, awaiting your cue.

“Fast,” you gasp, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he slides another finger into you, the stretch between your thighs burning deliciously. “Hard,” you add, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his cock. “Come on, Matty, wanna come on your cock so bad,” His dick twitches in your palm and his jaw goes slack, desire burning in his gaze.

Matty pulls his fingers out of you, drawing them into his mouth and sucking your arousal off his skin. “Open up, love,” he instructs, spitting in your mouth when you drop your jaw for him. You swallow obediently, the taste of you sliding down your throat deliciously. Climbing off you, he lines his cock up with your entrance, teasing. “You ready?”

Nodding wildly, you clench your cunt and roll your hips, chasing the pleasure he holds just out of your reach. “Fuck me, please,” you whine, tangling a hand in his hair and tugging harshly, relishing the soft whimper he lets out. Finally, Matty enters you, the stretch divine in your cunt. He gasps as you clench around him, coaxing him deeper. “Harder,” you beg, digging your nails into his back and matching his thrusts with your hips to force him deeper into you.

“Whatever you want, love,” he grins. “Gotta give it to you just the way you want it before your little boyfriend gets his pathetic hands on you again,” he promises, the flash of guilt at the reminder of your sin indetectable against the waves of sweet bliss rolling over you. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you wildly. Your pulse thrums in your cunt, cries falling from your lips as he thrusts impossibly deep into you.

“Shh, not so loud, sweetheart,” Matty murmurs against your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. Your head spins, drunk on him, liquid heat coiling in your veins and melting you in his hands. Euphoria pools in your belly, blood pumping faster and faster, your hips meeting slick and sweet. “That feel good?” You nod fervently, incoherent whines falling from your lips.

You writhe under him. “Matty,” you whine. “Matty, please, fuck–” you gasp, voice breaking on the last syllable as he strikes oh-so-perfectly inside you. “Oh, God,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulders hard enough to puncture skin. His hand comes down to tease at your clit, callused fingers deliciously rough against your swollen nerves. “Matty, please, please, please,” you whine, hips jolting involuntarily to chase the sweet, sharp bursts of pleasure that ricochet through you.

“Are you close, love?” he asks, his pace stuttering as his control slips.

“Yeah, fuck,” you murmur between soft moans. Matty redoubles his efforts, pressure mounting between your legs, coiling tighter and tighter as you cling to him, lips meeting in a messy imitation of a kiss. He strikes your clit just right, and you scream, heat racing through your blood and sparks exploding behind your eyelids. Euphoria burns you from the inside out, your cunt clenching around him desperately. A pained whine escapes you as he pulls out of you, spilling across your stomach with a groan. Your chest heaves as you gasp for breath, coasting on your high. Matty collapses next to you, breathing hard, and grins over at you wickedly.

Matching his grin, you drag a finger through the mess on your belly and suck it off, swirling your tongue around your finger exaggeratedly. Matty snatches your hand away and kisses you deeply. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Yes,” you giggle against his mouth. “Is it working?” He nods almost imperceptibly, something intense shining in his eyes that you don’t quite want to understand. You cast your gaze anywhere else, and he clears his throat sheepishly. “I’m, uh, gonna go get cleaned up,” you say, wincing at the cliche as you pad into his bathroom.

Whatever lingering awkwardness you might’ve feared has dissipated by the time you return, cocking your head quizzically at his pose; propped up against the headboard, arms behind his head. “About that blowjob… What?” he complains as you burst into laughter. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, laughing. “I heard it as soon as I said it.” You climb back into bed next to him, resting your head on his bare shoulder.

Kissing at his neck, you taste the light sheen of sweat on his skin. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease, climbing over him and settling between his legs. “And that I’m generous.”

The sound of your phone clattering to the floor startles you awake. Blinking blearily, you comb a hand through your sleep-tangled hair. Twelve missed calls from your mum, three from your dad and… oh shit, seventeen from your boyfriend. “Matty,” you hiss, slapping his leg frantically from your position on the floor. “Matty!”

“Huh, what?” he murmurs groggily, stirring to peer down at you from the bed.

“I forgot Michael was coming up from London this morning!” you gasp, frantically hunting for your clothes, the enormity of the last few days suddenly in shocking clarity. Your phone buzzes at your feet as you wrestle with your bra, fingers shaking too much to close the clasps. The caller ID flashes his name, and you draw a trembling breath.

“Want some help?” Matty teases, and despite yourself, you do. You nod despairingly, his warm hands at your back a comfort even now. “It’ll be okay, love,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. His touch warms you through, your body melting instinctively against his. God. You are well and truly fucked.

[autoerotic-apoptosis]

Maintenance

"Look at this absolute mess"

Your hands creak as you try to pick up the pieces of ceramic off of the floor. Tea has already began to seep in between the cracks in the hardwood. You drop half of all the shards you pick up, they make soft splashes in the spreading puddle.

"I am sorry mistress. My joints haven't been oiled in over a year and my fine motor control are degrading."

"Well I don't rightly know why you deign to make that my problem. I bought a self-maintaining doll for a reason! Yet here you are asking for maintenance help. Go get your own damn parts."

You know very well that watching you fall apart is the only reason she bought you and she knew very well that you couldn't leave the premises. You have been instructed to do your daily maintenance next to the hearth and the mistress watches you try and fail to keep yourself together most nights. You think it's to alleviate her own frustrations of her dying body. She doesn't think you know but you can hear the way her joints grind her bones to dust or how her blood runs slower on her right side.

She looks at you with such fascination. You imagine it is what a child looks like when raising a lens above the ant. There's satisfaction in that look and not an insignificant amount of lust.

If she outlasts you your body will know no rest. She'll put a new mind in your old body and watch as it struggles more than you ever had, it'll be a ghost trapped in corpse.

You hope to outlast her, or at least her voice that commands you. You could finally pull her limbs from her sockets and see how her joints were supposed to work.

"Yes mistress. I will do my best to keep myself in working order"

You don't know if you hide your expressions well. She might keep you around to see you fail at that as well

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

Day 7 - As The Wheel Turns - Summer Rain

[Hi! I like this one! Started as Scarian highschool sweethearts running away, and ended up as this whole angel and Schrodinger's apocalypse thing lmao. @hot-scarian-summer-2024 (thank you admins for your work btw) Wishing everyone a very nice day/night/whatever <3]

-

The day July ends, the sky starts to cry. 

Grian feels the drops of water hit the edge of his shoes - it hits the socks too, and he hates the feeling of wet fabric, but there's something too fascinating about the way the droplets slide off the smooth plastic.

Somehow, in all their planning, they hadn't accounted for the weather. The crystal-clear feeling in his guts intensifies until anxiety is all he can breathe. In and out. None of it helps in the suffocating heat. 

It's gonna make the travel difficult. The first thought comes, unbidden, following the unsteady stream of worries clouding up his head. 

If he ever comes at all. A second, bitter part of him answers. When you live in a town like this, there's a part of you that rots, right here against the white-painted fences and even whiter smiles. When you live in a town like this one, you don't live at all.

But Scar had swore on his life he'd be there, million-dollar smile tucked away in favor of a lopsided grin, and Grian had chosen to believe him - the other had this kind of effect, like a light.

So now Grian's here, wet socks and a grimace, waiting for either the executioner or the heart.

His chest stands still even as the rain parts to welcome a beat-up car into the land of the living, spat out of the dreamlike state all things tended to look like under the unyielding curtains of lukewarm tears.

It's only when a familiar face steps out of the engine that the moment breaks and his lungs suddenly cave in. "Scar." It's punched out, drowned under the concerto of raindrops, but he hears him all the same, tipping his hat in greetings.

He is- well, completely drenched. His hair droops clumsily on his forehead, and he looks like the human version of that sad cat you see hiding under a cardboard box during a storm. It's a lovely sight, if a bit funny.

"Hello there! Looking for a ride?" Scar grins, and the anxiety attacking his guts doesn't lift per se, but it does lighten, the heavy burden of what he's about to do hissing like a cornered animal in the face of Scar's self-assured smile.

It doesn't mean Grian will let this go to his big head. He rolls his eyes. "You look like you fought a pool. And lost. Quite terribly."

Closing the distance between them in three long strides to shelter himself from the rain that doesn't stop, Scar pouts. "Hey, it's not my fault I couldn't check the weather because your town-"

"Not my town anymore." He cuts, with a venom that almost surprises him. Deep down, if you'd look into his soul, you could probably see it - a hairline fracture that keeps getting bigger and bigger, the burning bridge in between the Grian that was and the Grian that is now.

Scar looks taken aback, mouth still open on eaten words, but it's quickly replaced by a satisfied smile.

It's too much. Too telling. Grian averts his eyes and changes the conversation to a subject that is less brittle. "We should get going." A quick look back at the house. "I made them sleep, but I don't how long."

Following his gaze into the curtained windows hiding what Grian has done, Scar bows, with the sort of flourish that meant he'd practiced it in front of a mirror. "After you, angel." It's endearing, and Grian allows himself a little smile before hastily walking towards the car, succumbing to the childish thinking that if he'd move quick enough, the rain would not be able to get him.

Scar follows suit, nearly slipping on the wet stairs, and Grian watches him run through the rear window with something like laughter in his throat.

Once inside, the door slamming with a resounding clack, Scar looks at him, truly looks at him and says, with his whole chest. "You're sure about it?"

There's the split second of panic, that dumb little part of him that still doubts - the record screeches and sputters some off-beat noises: ARE YOU SURE? But it only takes one look into Scar's open eyes to set his mind back on the right track. 

"Certain." The silence continues, and the car very obviously doesn’t start.

"One hundred percent, absolutely-never-regretting-it sure?"

The insistence makes his teeth clench. "Drive the car, Scar, or I'm throwing you out to do it myself."

He laughs as if he was just making some kind of joke, the comic de repetition, but Grian can see the way his fingers relax around the steering wheel. "Good try. I know you don't have a driving license. You still need good old Scar around!" 

It hits true. Truer than he'd like to admit. At least, there's some level of detachment from it, born from the notion of necessity- I need you to drive me around, I need you to teach me how to be human, I need. But then, Grian can already feel the four-letter word assigned to Scar shift, becoming something less like need and something more like want.

I want you around, he thinks, eyes running away from the danger, so much that it hurts.

As the town's buildings start to blur away into a faraway shape, Scar's right hand leaves the wheel so it can squeeze Grian's own. It's warm and solid against the pale of his skin, and most importantly it feels real.

Maybe the wanting can go both ways.

-

He'd thought he'd feel them leaving the town, like an elastic band that stretches too far, but in the end, it is very anticlimactic. They drive that long stretched road, and there's a sign that says goodbye flashing through the windows and that's it.

The asphalt feels endless. They must have noticed now - no one answering the door, the upstairs room with barred windows empty. Maybe if Grian listens closely he can hear those sharp bell noises, warning everyone that the bird has flown away from its cage.

It's too late now. He already feels himself becoming whole again, piece by piece. 

Outside, thunder rumbles.

"It's gonna be the end of the world, isn't it?"

Scar, knuckles tight against the faux leather, doesn't stray his eyes from the road. "I honestly don't know. We've been hanging pretty well around here. But Grian, the people in your town... They can rot."

The memories of Sunday mass and broken bones filter through the cracks in his guard. Looking at Scar, he cannot bring himself to regret any of this. The first human emotion he had been taught was fear, and the second hatred. They both understand the weight of his silence. "They will."

Scar doesn't ask about the assurance steeling his words. He doesn't need to.

Some people believe in fate. Grian, for himself, mostly believes in coincidences. There's a string of hazards and dice rolls that leads you straight into the path you walk, and no amount of cosmic energy can explain all those tidbits of stuff slipping through the cracks. 

In the end, Scar had been a thief looking for something precious, and Grian had been something precious looking for a thief.

He'd been a little bit of a Goldberg machine that way, sinking his claws into the concept of freedom while abiding by a lot of their stupid rules. Scar had been the hammer to his glass case, and it's a debt he doesn't know how to repay.

The town had always worked to prevent an angel from escaping, but they had forgotten to ward against the glaringly obvious: Grian had simply done it the human way, and walked out the door.

Life loved to string up all those little coincidences, and meeting Scar had been Grian's big win against the casino machine of Fate.

-

At their first stop at a gas station, Grian halts him - gripping the flesh of his arm maybe a bit too tight - and kisses him, eyes closed teeth smashed against each other, the whole shebang. 

Scar startles, the hand still on the door handle going lax, and Grian can see the surprise in his big round eyes. "I want you. Is that-" He stumbles, unsure of which path to tread. "Is that alright?" 

There's a bit of silence that rings way too loud in his head, and he's sure he's fucked up everything before Scar blinks back to life with a smile so bright it burns. His voice is soft. "Of course." 

Slowly, Scar lifts his hand up until it meets his lips, gentle. "Look at me," He boasts, already insufferable. "Told you I was an amazing thief, I even stole your heart."

It's so corny it gets a giggle out of him, and Scar looks so proud Grian has to shove that stupid man's hat against his eyes so that he doesn’t see him blush.

It's embarrassing, really. But it's not a bad way to go into the end of the world.

[beans-beneath-moonlight]

Just a casual reminder for the BSD fandom

[drarrily-we-row-along]

July 17: Outdoors

(I did, in fact, start writing this in July, only to heartlessly abandon it after writing 4 paragraphs because I was a mess. So... enjoy it now? [insert shrug emoji])

Draco fucking loathed the heat.

He despised the summer, with the hot fucking sun and too few clouds. He hated the way his body felt, too hot, sticky, always wet, his clothes damp where they clung to his skin. It felt like the outdoors was boiling him in his own sweat.

And yes, he was sitting on the edge of the pool, his calves and feet in the cool water. And yes, he had worn his shortest pair of shorts, and his most light-weight button up shirt that he wore unbuttoned down to his naval, and his giant sun hat that shaded his skin and protected him from the sun (in addition to his strongest sun-blocking charms), and his huge sunglasses to keep him from glaring because of the sun (it didn't change his glaring because of his annoyance at the heat). And yes, he'd consumed more than his fair share of ice water and the long islands that his host kept on the table.

But it didn't change the fact that he was sticky, sweaty, hot and currently, more to the point, also fucking aroused.

Because Harry Potter didn't seem to have the same problems that Draco had in the heat. His bronze skin glistened with sweat and tanning oil; beads of water rolling down his pecks and abdomen, collecting in the hair on his chest and stomach when he emerged from the pool. Potter, instead of turning a hideously unattractive shade of red like Draco, only continued to grow more golden in the sun, painfully fucking beautiful. His swim trunks were indecently short, clinging to his muscular thighs and perfectly round arse, and leaving far too much of his skin on display.

It wasn't fair for Draco to have to be this hot and also attracted to someone. Attraction took up way too much space in his brain and body and he simply didn't have the energy for it in this heat.

“Draco, are you even listening to me?” Pansy snapped.

“No,” he replied honestly, as he took another long drink from the straw sticking out of his glass.

He didn’t have to be looking at her to know that she was rolling her eyes at him. “I will never understand your fascination with him.”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “You’re only attracted to women,” he said, then, “and I’m not fascinated with him,” he added as almost an after thought.

Before she could reply, Ginerva was interrupting them, sliding her soaking wet, bikini-clad body in between the two of them.

“Uggh,” he said, sliding away from her, “you’re soaking me.”

She looked over at him, that particular brand of Weasley mischief that Draco did his best to avoid, shining in her eyes.

“Whatever you are thinking, don’t you fucking dare,” he warned her.

But then both of her hands were on him, unceremoniously shoving him into the pool. And it wasn’t that Draco couldn’t swim, but he didn’t swim terribly well, and he hadn’t expected to be shoved into the pool in the first place, so the panic took over.

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him to the surface in spite of his flailing and choking. “I’ve got you,” the body holding his assured him.

And Draco recognized that voice, frankly, he was fairly certain that he could have simply recognized the body by touch alone; no need to hear or see or smell him. He wanted to tell him to just let him drown, let him slip back under and die because it would be better than living through this embarrassment, but he was still coughing and struggling to get a good breath, so none of the words quite came out right.

Potter carried him through the water and over to the steps. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding Draco out of the pool, “let’s head inside and get you some dry clothes.”

“Oooh!” Ginerva had the nerve to call out and Draco relegated her back down to his least favorite Weasley.

“Fuck off,” Potter called, flipping her a two fingered salute on their way in. "Are you alright?" he asked, all charming concern for Draco's well being.

“I’m fine,” Draco said, in spite of the way his throat was still burning and aching. “I should just go home.”

“Absolutely not,” Potter replied, leading him through the house and back toward what Draco could only assume was his bedroom.

And Draco had imagined Potter taking him back to his bedroom a thousand times but the circumstances had been very different in his imaginings. He'd imagined (fantasized) about Potter being so taken with him that he couldn't resist his charms; Potter calling him beautiful, sexy, unable to keep his hands off him.

Instead, Potter was treating him like a patient. In a decidedly unsexy way. He picked up his wand off the nightstand next to the bed, “I’m just going to cast a spell to clear any residual water from your lungs,” he informed him. The spell rattled through Draco as he moved his wand over his chest in a complicated pattern. “Then I’m going to stick pretty close by for the next couple of hours,” he said as he moved to the closet and started digging through for something for Draco to wear. “Best to monitor you.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

Potter turned to glare at him, “which one of us is the healer and which one of us is the wand maker?” He put his hands on his hips, “I wouldn’t argue with you about how to make a wand-”

“You would,” he interrupted. “You literally have.”

“You can either choose to be monitored by me or I’ll take you to St. Mungo’s myself,” he warned.

“You wouldn’t.”

Potter raised an eyebrow and crossed his stupidly buff arms over his stupidly broad chest, “try me.”

"Potter," he groaned.

"Don't Potter me," he said, apparently taking that for acquiescence and turning back to his closet. "Now, I think these swim shorts," he said, holding out a tiny pair of swim trunks with flamingos on them, "will work because they have a drawstring waist band. And this button up," he said, holding out a pink shirt that matched the flamingos, "will be best because it's lightweight and matches the vibe you're wearing now."

Draco accepted the clothes and carefully didn't point out that he could have just cast a spell to dry the clothes he was already wearing. The temptation to put on Harry's clothes was far too great. "Are you going to stand there and watch me dress, too?" he asked as he started to peel off his wet shirt. "Do I need monitoring so intensely?"

"No," Potter said, turning so quickly that he almost ran into the doorway. "Err," he said, stepping sideways and out of the door. "I'll just wait out here."

Once he stripped out of the wet clothes, he cast a quick spell to dry his body before putting on Harry's clothes. They didn't fit as well as his own did, certainly, Harry's chest and shoulders were far broader and Draco was quite a bit scrawnier than him, but they didn't look half bad. And more to the point, they were Harry's, so they smelled like him and even looking at them sent a thrill through the pit of Draco's stomach.

"Well," he said, stepping out of the room, "I suppose they'll do."

Harry, who'd been leaning against the wall, stumbled over nothing and nearly fell, choking on a cough as he stared wordlessly at Draco.

"What?" he asked self consciously, looking down at himself.

But Potter was trying to straighten himself, shaking his head. "Nothing," he said. Then he repeated himself, "Nothing."

"Right," Draco said, feeling a strange mix of self consciousness and attractiveness. He had the urge to flirt with the other man, just to see what would happen.

Potter turned and made his way toward the door, Draco followed and tried to decide what he could say or do to attract the other man's attention.

On their way back toward the pool, he saw it, the perfect excuse, dragging his feet just a bit, he let his toes catch on a tree root and let his body tip forward. "Oh!" he cried as he fell, "ouch! My ankle."

Potter was there in an instant, hands fluttering around Draco's sides, "what happened?"

"Oh, I tripped over the tree root and twisted my ankle," he said, holding his leg in the air and showing Potter. "It's probably the heat, I'm just feeling a little faint." He draped an arm over his head to demonstrate how faint he was feeling. He should have gone into acting, he thought ruefully, as Potter tittered over him, concern evident in each action.

Warm, competent hands reached for him, one taking gentle hold of his foot the other grasping his leg just above his ankle. "You're having a terrible go of it," he said, looking up at Draco with those guileless green eyes. "You're never going to want to come to one of my parties again."

Potter's magic washed through him, warm and bright, tingling around his ankle and Draco shivered with delightful anticipation.

"It doesn't seem like anything's broken," he said, "why don't we just go in and let you rest on the sofa." Without another word, he lifted him into his arms like Draco weighed nothing at all, and carried him inside once more.

"Thank you," he said, affecting a bit of helplessness in his voice. "I don't know what's the matter with me today."

"Probably the heat," Potter agreed, setting him down on the couch, rearranging the pillows to prop up Draco's leg. "Let me fetch you a glass of water. Are you in pain?" he asked as he moved toward the kitchen, "can I get you a potion for it?"

"Oh," he said, shaking his head, "I think I'll be fine in a few moments. You've been too kind already. I've been far too much trouble as it is," he demurred.

"Nonsense," Potter said, "You're no trouble at all." He carried the glass of water back to him and sat down on the sofa by Draco's hip.

Draco reached for the glass and took a long drink before letting his fingers skim over Potter's knee on the way to setting it on the table. On the way back, he casually brushed the back of his hand over the other man's thigh.

"Draco," Potter murmured.

"Yes, Potter?" he replied innocently before looking up and meeting his gaze.

The green of his eyes was burning bright and hot, and for just a moment, Draco couldn't breathe.

"Are you actually hurt or can I kiss you?" he asked.

In lieu of answering, Draco reached up and wrapped a hand around Potter's neck, pulling him down into a heated kiss.

A kiss that only got hotter and more desperate, escalating so quickly that before he knew what was happening Potter (and really, he thought wildly, he ought to start calling him Harry at this point) was climbing over him. He pressed him down onto the couch, straddling his hips, as his hands cupped Draco's face to angle it just right to deepen the kiss further. He let his hand stray down the muscular expanse of Potter's back toward his arse, fingertips just slipping below the waistband-

"Shit."

They both turned their heads in time to see that Neville and Blaise were standing in the doorway, gaping at the two of them.

"Sorry," Harry said, and Draco turned his head to find that Harry was looking at him with utter mortification.

And that simply wouldn't do. "Blaise," Draco said, staring straight into Harry's eyes, "be a dear and tell everyone that Potter's party is currently an outdoor only event and that he will no longer be available to attend to anyone's needs."

"Except your's apparently," Blaise said, smirk evident in his voice.

Harry buried his face in Draco's neck in a fit of shyness that Draco couldn't help but find adorable.

He smirked over at the other man, "except mine," he agreed. "Oh, and close the door on your way out."

The door clicked shut and Harry held out a hand, sending a wave of magic to lock it. He pulled back to look at Draco, "so what needs do you have that need attending to?" he asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh, come back here and I'm sure I can come up with something," he replied as he pulled the other man's body down and flush against his own.

And it proved that once Harry started, it was all too easy to continue giving him more needs to fulfill.

--------------

Read more of my fics, if you'd like.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Past Me: *-struggles for months on end to figure out how to write the next chapter of Kaiju!AU-* "I know what I want to write and I have the scene in mind, but how do I get it on the page????"

Today Me: *-decides to do a web diagram of potential scenes for said chapter after seeing the success I had with a different story's plot point and suddenly has a new plot device to give Yuu a bigger role in the story-* "????? How????"

Soooooooo...yeah, I've been productive, I swear, just words being stubborn with me 😅

[robo-writing]

IDK how to format this but here’s some NSFW things I think the RE men would do with their S/O!

Chris Redfield

Loves using his size advantage over you. Chris is a big guy, he loves picking you up and manhandling you in every which way while you’re fucking. And don’t give him any of that “I’m too big!” crap, he’ll just take it as a challenge and show you that no matter what size you are you’ll never be big enough for him NOT to press you against a wall and make you see stars.

Leon Kennedy

Loves when you make noise, any kind of noise, he just wants to hear how good he makes you feel. It activates something primal in him, the idea that he takes care of you so well that you can’t help but cry out his name as he makes sure your sore little hole memorizes the shape of his cock. And if you dare try to keep your mouth shut he’ll spread your lips open with his fingers, play with your tongue and let your drool run over his wrist as he fucks you harder.

Carlos Oliveira

He really, really loves your ass. Watching it, groping it, slapping it; Wandering hands that always seem to gravitate towards your backside no matter what you’re doing, whether it’s cooking or just relaxing. Wear a nice pair of tights in front of him and there’s a non-zero chance he’ll rip em off. His favorite view is of you arched, face pressed into the mattress and legs spread just the way he likes as he drills you within an inch of your life. Your muffled whines, the tremble in your aching body as he doesn’t let up, the motion of your ass each time his thrusts into you, he can’t get enough.

[anto-pops]

A Torrid Arrangement - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Sebastian have had a 'friends-with-benefits' dynamic going on for close to a year now, and the more time passes, the harder it is for him to hide his true feelings for you. It's an unbearable kind of torment, but he forces himself to grin and bear it anyway to preserve the integrity of his... situation-ship with you. That is, until the metaphorical floodgates finally open up.

Alternatively summarized as gratuitous FWB smut with lots of playful banter sprinkled in

This came from the depths of my fever-induced brain so if its all over the place, I apologize. But YAY MORE SMUT !!

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, lots of hickies

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with more informative tags, as per usual :))

Sebastian knew it was going to be one of those days before he was even fully conscious. 

He jolted awake from an extremely graphic wet dream at the ass crack of dawn, hard and sweaty and tangled in the sheets, already reaching beside himself for the body that had just been pressed against his own. The dream had been so real– so incredibly vivid– that he swore he could still taste the familiar, salty skin on the tip of his tongue. He’d been so fucking close too; buried deep between soft thighs, clinging tight with every fiber of his being when reality had come and butt its ugly, unwelcome head in. 

With a ragged, disappointed groan, Sebastian let his head fall back against his pillow and dragged his hands down his flushed face, graciously allowing himself a few minutes to sort himself out. 

This was far from the first wet dream he’d had about you, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Hell– you gave Sebastian’s thirsty subconscious plenty of material to work with every time you came around to ‘relieve stress’. Being long-standing fuck buddies with you granted him that lucious priviledge. Sebastian knew damn well how good you felt holding onto him, what you sounded like when you were about to come, what your heated, sweat-slick skin tasted like. 

He also knew how fucking cute you could be— especially when you were sprawled across his bed in his dorm with a textbook open beneath you to sneakily segue from studying together to fooling around. He knew how badly he wanted to spread you out across his sheets and make you moan for hours– to worship your perfect body slowly and sweetly with his hands and his mouth. 

It was barely past dawn and Sebastian already knew he was going to be tracking you down at some point today to act on his urges. As always, he would be hiding his monstrous crush under a thick layer of casual booty call. 

—

Whenever Sebastian woke up like this– nerves stretched paper thin over a desperate craving for intimacy– dueling was one of the few things that helped him clear his head and get his shit together. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he was even less of a people person at such a ripe, early hour, but he’d still left the confines of his dorm to make the trek to the Crossed Wands courtyard. 

There were no students in this area of the castle at this time, which just meant he would be making do with the practice dummies for a few hours until his blood cooled within his veins. Spell after spell fired from his wand and struck hard and true against the wooden figurines that lined the walls, the sound echoing off the Clock Tower walls and drowning out his incessant, horny thoughts. 

Thoughts that revolved too much around how nice your thighs would look with dark imprints of his teeth all over them. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sebastian unleashed a particularly aggressive Confringo charm in a bid to expel his sinful train of thought. The dummy erupted in an explosion of wooden bits and flaming embers, and as it collapsed to the stone floor in a mangled heap, the brunet realized that there was in fact one other person on school grounds awake– and they just so happened to be walking right towards him. 

He could practically hear fate howling with laughter at his expense when he dimly registered that not only did he know this lone survivor, it was against all probability none other than you, because why the fuck not. 

You were stomping through the outer courtyard with a few textbooks clutched tight in your white-knuckled grip, looking equal parts distracted and deliciously disheveled from a distance. Your mind had to be as scattered as his was, because you clearly didn’t notice Sebastian or the on fire training dummy as you strode through the open clock tower gate. He did his best to play it cool when you finally made eye contact with him, trying exceptionally hard to not look like he’d just jacked off to the way dream-you squirmed under him not twenty minutes prior. 

“Hey, you,” Sebastian called out smoothly when your hurried pace slowed down at the sight of him. You shook your head as though to clear it, squinting at him harder as you evenly stalked up to him, and your frown became more and more apparent the closer you got. Everything about your demeanor screamed ‘wild Graphorn, do not approach’, but Sebastian had never been great at following directions. 

You raked one of your hands through your wild hair as you finally came to stop a few feet away, panting slightly as you stared up at him as though you weren’t entirely sure he was real. “Sebastian?” 

The man in question cocked a brow at you, giving you a quick once over. Your hair was definitely mussed more than usual, a few stray strands falling over your forehead while others stuck up on one side– as if you’d been combing your fingers through it all night. There was no missing the mildly insane glint in your bloodshot eyes, and you were slightly paler than normal. Sebastian was also pretty sure you’d been wearing the same blouse yesterday, if the tiny stain on the collar was any indication. 

If you didn’t look so damned grumpy, Sebastian would swear he’d just caught you in the middle of a walk of shame. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of jealousy straight through his core, and he had to bite his tongue to stifle the snide comment that threatened to fall from his lips. He failed, opting to instead poke the metaphorical bruise and deal with the throbbing ache doing so would bring him. 

“Someone didn’t go to her dorm last night,” he snickered, aiming a crooked grin down at you. “Congrats on getting lucky.” 

Normally he would expect you to just roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder before ribbing him back. But as Sebastian watched your eyes widen at the same time your face flushed several different shades of red, he couldn’t help but wonder if poking the metaphorical Graphorn before the sun was even fully up was a good idea. 

“I was not getting lucky,” you hissed at him, one eye twitching. Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender before sticking his wand back in his pocket, awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment as you huffed out an agitated sigh. “I’ve been getting fucked for the last twelve hours by Professor Sharp’s assignment– fifteen pages on the origin and uses of Wiggenweld. I’m not even sure if most of what I’ve written comes off as real English, so don’t fucking chuckle at me about getting lucky, you ass.” 

Sebastian just stared at you silently, watching you fume. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters with you before, so he knew full well that after a certain amount of sleep deprivation and stress, you had a tendency to lose your shit in addition to your filter. “Ah,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, only hesitating for a second. 

After all, he just so happened to know exactly how you liked to relieve your stress. 

He licked his lips quickly before he said, “You, uh… kinda look like you could stand to get lucky, huh?” 

Your nostrils flared slightly as you squinted up at him for a long minute instead of responding. It might have looked like a murderous face to anyone else, but Sebastian knew better, and he could practically hear the gears in your head clanking together as you weighed the offer. 

“…I mean, if you’re not doing anything else,” you finally muttered, your tense shoulders dropping a smidge. 

He gestured loosely to the demolished pile of wood on the ground. “I’m not anymore,” came his fluid reply, and before you could take note of the smoking remnants of the training dummy, Sebastian’s hand was grasping yours tight as he tugged you along behind him. You blearily blinked the fatigue from your eyes as you fell into step beside him, and the brunet tried his very best not to let on how extremely pleased he was.

—

Halfway to Sebastian’s dorm, you’d interrupted his hurried pace and directed him to the Room of Requirement in an attempt to avoid any awkward run-ins with his roommates. The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with on top of your Potion’s related irritation was prying eyes, and you already knew the Slytherin dorms would be chock full of those. 

Upon entering the more private space atop the Astronomy Tower, you threw aside your textbooks on the lone side table next to the double doors and spun around to yank Sebastian into a frantic, needy kiss. Your nails dug into his firm shoulders as you swiftly pulled him down to your level, and he allowed you to grind your hips against his steadily growing erection as his own fingers dug into the small of your back. 

“H-Hey, hold on,” Sebastian wheezed out when you pulled away to tug at his belt, and his hands dropped to your waist to hold you at arms length so he could look you over again. As the two of you had trekked up to the Room, you’d begun to look more and more exhausted— too out of it to even gripe about the endless staircase that never failed to draw complaints from you. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now? You look like death.” 

You snorted and rolled your tired eyes, pursing your lips in blatant disapproval. “Nagging, Sebastian? Really? I thought we were past this.” 

“I’m not nagging,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying, you kinda look like you need a nap more than you need a quick fuck.” 

Tutting disdainfully, your hands fell away from his belt as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just starting to loosen up. See if I ever relax around your ass again,” you retorted drily, tilting your head back to blink up at the ceiling. “The assignment is due before lunch today. If I sleep now, I’m not waking up until tomorrow. I can’t sleep yet.”

Sebastian tilted his head with a thoughtful frown, mirroring your stance by crossing his arms over his own chest. “What if I wake you up?” 

You shook your head dutifully, although you were sorely tempted by the idea. “Trust me, I can feel the impending coma. I can’t risk it.”

“Want me to turn your paper in for you?”

Another mournful shake of your head. “You know Sharp, he’s as stern as they come. I’m positive he wouldn’t take it from you– and I’m sure he’d give you detention for trying. It’s fine, I just need to tough it out for a few more hours. Think you can help with that?” 

“Shit, yeah,” he relented, fighting the urge to bury his face in your messy head of hair. Instead he opted for uncrossing his arms to run his hands up your shoulders to gently squeeze at the tense muscles there, and you sighed at the delightful shiver that danced up your spine from the action. “I’m really not trying to kill you, though. Are you sure you’re good for this?” 

You snorted again, shaking your head slightly, and the tension in your upper body began seeping away under Sebastian’s warm palms. “Are you always this sweet to your fuck buddies?” The brunet could feel himself flushing at the statement, but before he could respond, you were muttering, “It’s really weird coming from you.” 

“Hey–”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you barked over Sebastian’s protest, pulling away from him to head further into the massive space towards the modest bedroom in the corner. The adjacent room had never disappeared after your first hook-up here with your longtime companion, and its constant existence since then had served as an odd reminder of your arrangement with the man. 

If you weren’t so stiff and weird from exhaustion, Sebastian could honestly convince himself that you were embarrassed or something. For now, though, he simply chalked your jaded nature up to your lack of a filter and stalked after you– totally not obsessing over the fact that you’d just called him sweet. 

You’d been undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walked, and as soon as you made it inside the bedroom, you stripped the material off completely and discarded it in the corner of the room. Your skirt quickly followed, and all the while Sebastian was forcing himself not to think about how nice dream-you’s skin had looked tangled in his dream-sheets. 

Sebastian stood in the doorway as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, shucking the attire off of his shoulders before moving down to his belt. The metal clink of the buckle was enough to draw your attention, and you fell back onto the mattress and scooted up towards the pillows without taking your eyes off him. The eager look in your fatigued eyes was enough to spur Sebastian onward quicker, and before long he was dressed in only his briefs as he prowled towards the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes. 

The way you were sprawled atop the sheets with your arms resting above your head was a sight Sebastian vowed to commit to memory for as long as he lived. You were clearly giving him free reign over your body, and his mouth ran dry at the realization that you were wholly handing control over to him. He swallowed thickly and moved to straddle your hips, leaning over you on his forearms so he could better slot your lips together, and after a few tentative pecks, his boldness started to grow. You sighed and tilted your chin into Sebastian’s kisses, parting your lips invitingly as you melted into the cool, satin sheets beneath you. 

With as tired and as boneless as you were, it seemed like you might actually be patient for once, and the thought had Sebastian’s heart fluttering excitedly. More often than not, he was so susceptible to your impatience and intensity that he always found himself getting swept up in your urgency when the two of you did this. Not that he didn’t love it; the dire, rough pace he’d always settle into with you, all gasping moans and tightly-gripped hands and frantic, needy thrusts– he absolutely loved it. It kept him hooked and craving more, even when you were both panting and sated. This, though…

Having you give up the lead and just relax for him was like a literal wet dream come to life. 

Tangling your tongues with a low moan, Sebastian leaned into you slightly, his hands shifting to rub slowly up your sides until his deft fingers slipped under your arched back to unhook your bra. It fell away like nothing, and you moaned against his lips when the pads of his thumbs came to graze over your pert nipples. Your sleep-deprived loopiness had to be contagious, because Sebastian pulled away from your lips to mouth hotly against your ear, “I dreamt about you last night.” 

He didn’t get the chance to feel weird about admitting it. You chuckled warmly, your kiss-swollen lips curving into a crooked, amused smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, pausing to suck gently at your earlobe while his thumbs idly traced the outline of your ribs. He brushed his lips down the angle of your jaw, exhaling shakily when you leaned your head aside to freely offer him the wonderfully sensitive expanse of your neck. Sebastian lightly dragged his teeth down the soft, heated skin, then flicked his tongue over the faded imprint of the last hickey he’d left there. It was barely noticeable now. 

You shivered at the feeling, your fingers twisting in the sheets above your head before you sighed contentedly. “Was I pulling my hair out about Potions?”

“Fuck no.” He nipped at the faint bruise before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, sucking just enough to briefly tease you. “I had you under me like this,” he continued softly, pitching his voice low and nuzzling into your ear again, purposely aiming to press your buttons and work you into a needy frenzy. He felt your breath hitch more than he heard it, and as a sly grin broke out across his face, Sebastian slipped his fingers up your chest to pinch at your nipples once again. “I was fucking you nice and slow, making you feel so good…”

Moaning softly, you arched up into Sebastian’s hands, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as he teased and flicked the sensitive nubs into stiff peaks. Your hips inadvertently rocked up against his as you desperately sought friction in the area you wanted it most. “Sounds like you’ve already got a game plan, huh?”

He sat back on his heels to look down at you as he shrugged. “If you’re up to it,”

“Just don’t let me fall asleep,” you mused, your hooded eyes trailing down Sebastian’s tanned, freckled chest to his dark briefs, halting when you caught sight of his cock straining against the cotton material. The sight had you licking your lips and fidgeting slightly before you blinked back up at him. “This paper is worth a quarter of my grade.” 

“I won’t. Merlin– you worry too much.” Sitting upright with an amused shake of his head, Sebastian rolled off of you to sidle down the mattress so he was kneeled comfortably between your outstretched legs. Your hands fell to your thin underwear, ready to peel them away to get a move on with things, but Sebastian swatted away your appendages quickly. With a half-hearted scowl, you relinquished control, allowing your arms to rest above your head again as you once more bared yourself to the larger man. 

Sebastian groaned softly at the sight, continuing where you’d left off by slipping his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments before tugging the damp fabric away from your aching center. You lifted your knees to assist him, and in one swift motion he had discarded the soiled attire over his shoulder, taking care to drag his eyes down the supple curve of your waist before settling on your glistening folds. 

“Damn, darling,” he moaned earnestly. “You look so fucking perfect like this.” You huffed softly as you hooked your legs around Sebastian’s hips to tug him closer, and he hummed at the same time he looped one of his hands under your thigh to hold you to him as he rocked against your slick core. The friction was tantamount to perfection, but you craved more, and Sebastian knew it too. 

Before you could open your mouth to complain, the freckled man ducked to press hot, wet kisses down the line of your throat, sucking and biting as he made his way down your shoulder past your collarbone. As he mouthed down your chest, he paused to tease one of your perked nipples gently between his teeth, and a pang of arousal shot through him when you arched and moaned under him. It was pure bliss– and your eyes rolled shut as your hips pressed up insistently. Sebastian ground his hips into yours for as long as he could manage before he had to scoot back to continue further, but he made up for it by dragging his nails deliciously down your thighs before he’d settled between your outstretched legs. 

You made such a pretty picture spread out in the lush, satin sheets this way; with your hands fisted in the covers above your head, your legs spread on either side of him, and the lustful gaze you pinned him with, Sebastian was half convinced he’d fallen back asleep this morning and was still dreaming. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch your body react to his touch, so he smiled as he dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue up your wet folds, and the way your breath stuttered in your throat was far more enticing than it had any right to be. You attempted to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch– entirely enthralled with how Sebastian looked between your thighs– but then he took your clit between his lips and sucked, and you were pulling the sheets into your clenched fists and falling back against the pillows with a ragged moan.

Sebastian continued to toy with you that way for far too long for comfort– holding you hostage in some combined purgatory of bliss and torment as he sucked and lapped at your center. It was far too easy to reduce you to a pile of brainless mush given your fatigued, overly-sensitive state, and he was all too curious to discover how many new things you would let him get away with before you got impatient and started begging. 

With gentle, attentive hands, Sebastian coaxed you into raising one of your knees up so he could throw your leg over his shoulder, instantly coiling his strong arms under your waist to hold you firmly to his unrelenting mouth. His stomach flipped at how easily you relaxed for him, and you proceeded to fight your boneless nature so you could sit up and watch him with lust-dark, hazy eyes. Sebastian loved the attention– thrived on it, really– and he broke away from your overwhelmingly wet heat to pepper chaste kisses along the smooth hollow of your leg. You were already breathing heavier– your fingers twitching around handfuls of fabric– and when Sebastian moaned and slipped his tongue out in-between kisses to lightly run the tip along soft, sensitive skin, your breath caught audibly in your chest before you shuddered out a shaky sigh. 

When he first sank his teeth into the heated flesh midway up your inner thigh, he did so gently, but your hips still jerked at the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the wanton moan that slipped through your parted lips. “Fuck, Sebastian–” you groaned, your voice laced with obvious desire. You dug the heel of your foot into the middle of his back, silently imploring him to give you more, because the feeling of him marking you somewhere so sensitive was too fucking good. 

Sebastian flashed you a smug grin as he pulled away, but not before planting a lingering kiss along the faint imprints of his teeth. The gesture was warm and promising– as was the way his hand squeezed your waist before letting the leg over his shoulder fall back against the mattress. He moved to splay his hands over your hips, your thighs resting comfortably over his arms, but he let them stay spread open rather than using his grip to pull you around like he usually would. 

As his thumbs trailed gently along the curves of your hip bones, Sebastian leaned back down to brush another warm kiss along your inner thigh, humming at the way your muscles tensed slightly. He nuzzled up higher, then parted his lips against the soft skin to bite again, and this time he sucked steadily with the intent of leaving a dark, lasting mark there too. You moaned softly, your hips rocking up at the sensation, and as Sebastian worked yet another brand into your skin, your breath shifted into quiet panting as your hands twisted in the sheets. 

Satisfied with the deep purple of the bruise and the light imprint of his teeth around it, Sebastian pulled away and dragged the flat of his tongue over his brand soothingly, breathing a low groan as he did so. He admired it for a moment longer before he mouthed wetly up your leg further, his dark, messy curls brushing against the join of your thigh. 

He nuzzled closer to begin working another mark there, and the sharp sting of his lips and his teeth had you gasping– bending your free thigh up to let it fall to the side in a bid to give Sebastian all the room he wanted to keep going. He moaned encouragingly, squeezing your hips once again as you lifted them up for more, and he dragged his tongue up along the soft hollow of your thigh as his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, trembling under the brunet’s affection. The shaky insistence to your voice caught his attention, so he leaned up enough to look at you as he licked his lips and pet your hips soothingly. Swallowing heavily, you opened your eyes and shivered, meeting his gaze almost shyly before you murmured, “I-I don’t– I don’t usually like slow stuff.” 

Sebastian shifted up onto his elbows, idly drawing his palms back and forth over your flushed skin. His expression showed nothing but concern as he asked, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head quickly, scooting your hips minutely towards him. “N-No, no– this is fine. Good, even, I… I like this.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Sebastian tried unsuccessfully to figure out what was happening, then cautiously asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. You fidgeted for a few seconds, squirming under the obvious care Sebastian was showing for you until you eventually took a breath and relented. “I like this. A lot.” The freckled man only cocked a brow at you in confusion, but before he could move to crawl over you again, you huffed and flopped back against the mattress. “I like you leaving marks on me, too.” 

He mulled that over in his brain for a long moment, squinting slightly. “Okay…?” 

“You fucking ass,” you wheezed out, your breath akin to an overwhelmed laugh. “It’s because it’s you, Sebastian, Merlin’s beard– I like you.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian stared up at you again and carefully replied, “Thanks?” 

“Nevermind, I hate you,” you grumbled, slinging an arm over your face. “Forget I said anything.” 

“No– hold on–” he sputtered before sitting up straight, his arms sliding out from under your thighs. You appeared to be disgruntled by the change, but you didn’t come out from hiding to complain. “I mean– we’ve been fucking for like a year. I’d hope to the Gods you can stand me by now.” 

You groaned from beneath the safety of your arm shield, “I cannot believe I have to spell this out for you. I’ve been fucking you for like a year because I like you, you moonmind. Like, romantically. Very much into you, whether we’re fucking or not.”

With an uncomfortably loud click, Sebastian understood.

“Oh!” His eyes damn near popped out of his skull, his heart doing some insane acrobatics in his chest, but all of that took a backseat to the blissful realization that he wasn’t the only one with a big, gross crush. “Oh, shit, okay,” he sputtered, raking his hands through his hair. “Wow, okay. Fuck, sorry– I was totally involved in the hickey thing, my brain wasn’t on. Wow.” 

“Merlin’s balls,” you groused, already trying to roll away from Sebastian’s wildly embarrassing presence. “I should not have said anything.”

“No!” Sebastian scrambled up the bed to brace himself on his hands above you, caging you between his arms while his heart hammered away against his sternum. “No, no no, you definitely should have said something, darling– shit.” He paused to try and coax you into coming out of hiding, but when you resisted him firmly, he didn’t push it. Instead, he chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to get his racing thoughts in order so he wouldn’t blurt out something completely idiotic. 

“I am like, ridiculously in love with you.” 

Completely idiotic. 

You froze under him momentarily before peering up at him over your elbow, your wide-eyed stare bordering on horrified. Cursing under his breath, Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and stared right back, almost entirely sure he could feel his life force draining from his body. 

“I-I mean– fuck, wait–”

“Are you kidding me!?” You bolted upright– narrowly avoiding cracking your skull against Sebastian’s on the way up. Your fingers clamped down on his shoulders so you could rattle him slightly as you blurted, “What the hell, Sebastian! How long?” 

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and pointedly stared at the wall before grumbling, “I don’t fucking know, it’s not like it happened all at once. It started towards the end of our fifth-year and it just kinda… grew from there. Like a Horklump.” 

Sebastian realized how shitty that euphemism was when your mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare your feelings for me to a fungus?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms stiffly over his bare chest as he returned to staring at anything but you.

“For what, exactly?” You ran a trembling hand through your unruly hair, then dropped your gaze to the sheets. “For returning my feelings? Or for not saying anything before right now?” Sebastian just shrugged unhelpfully with his lips pursed. Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, your irritated, murder face back in full swing. 

Just as Sebastian was starting to get worried by the awkward silence— doing his best not to fidget— you nodded to yourself and announced, “We should date each other.” 

“…Come again?” 

“We should date each other,” you repeated firmly, leaning up on your elbows again and exuding a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I like you, you love me–” Sebastian did his best to not choke on his own tongue, “–we spend so much time together that we’re basically dating anyways. At least, Imelda seems to think so… it seems like a good enough idea to me, if you’re interested.” 

It took Sebastian a few seconds to untangle his tongue enough to reply, but when he did, all he could do was croak, “You want to date me?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” 

“…Are you high? Did you smoke Mallowsweet on your way here?”

You groaned and tipped your head back between your shoulders, very clearly searching for some semblance of patience. “I’m high on sleep deprivation, yes, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. They’re there whether I’ve slept or not. It’s actually hell.” 

Sebastian was still flabbergasted, staring down at you helplessly. “Why are you bringing this up now?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to full-on confess or anything, it just kind of came out that way. You were leaving hickeys on me, and I realized that whenever I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna feel them and see them and remember how you fucking appeared out of nowhere right when I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I snuck into your dorm at the ass crack of dawn– and then I’ll remember how good you looked leaving them on me and how I totally wanted you to do slow mushy lovey sex stuff to me, and then I’ll probably sleep like shit for weeks fantasizing about that, and–”

“Okay, alright, damn,” Sebastian interjected, his face flushed an impressively dark shade of red.

“You asked,” you mumbled as you half-heartedly picked at the sheets. 

“I did, yeah.” Licking his lips quickly, Sebastian reached forward to rest his hand over yours, dragging his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. “I’d really, really like that. A lot, if I’m being honest. I’ve kind of dreamt about it for a while now.”

Your sheepish smile transformed rapidly into something purely elated, and you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his own as you playfully mused, “Not the only thing you’ve been dreaming about, apparently.” 

Sebastian laughed again, and this time it was less nervous and more breathless with relief. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, resting his free hand on your warm cheek, and you instantly relaxed for him as you tilted your chin up into the kiss as you gave his fingers a tentative squeeze. 

You fell back onto the bed again as you tugged Sebastian over you, loosely hooking your legs around his hips to keep him close. The brunet groaned and leaned into you, and when you threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss, he slipped his tongue between your lips with a shaky sigh– all too eager to put his hands all over you. Luckily you seemed to be of like mind, moaning against his mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Touch me, please.” 

Sebastian nodded ardently and nipped at your flushed lips, shifting his weight to free up his hands so he could better run his palms along your sides. He squeezed gently before dragging one hand down to your still-slick heat, expertly seeking out your tiny bundle of nerves in a bid to reduce you to a mewling, gasping mess. Your spine rounded towards him as soon as he found it– an airy moan ripping from your throat as he pressed tight circles around the nub– and Sebastian swallowed your keening noises greedily. 

“Why are you still wearing these?” You murmured against his plush lips as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, tugging softly to convey your request. 

There was no muffling his smug bark of laughter, and a feline smile split his face as he pulled back just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on the tip of your nose. “So impatient,” he teased, intentionally ignoring your hand on his undergarments in favor of sliding one of his skilled fingers through your folds. He replaced the missing finger against your clit with his thumb at the same time he inserted a digit inside of your pulsing walls, and the feeling had your head falling back as your lips parted around a stuttered gasp, your thighs tightening impossibly further around his waist. 

Undeterred, you blindly wiggled your hand under the hem of Sebastian’s underwear and tugged his arousal out with a practiced flick of your wrist. You wrapped your fingers around his girth and gave him a long, tight stroke– squeezing the head in the way you knew he liked– which in turn earned you a rough, wavering moan. Matching Sebastian’s pace was easy, and you stroked him steadily as you leaned up to seal your lips over his pulse to begin working a dark hickey of your own into his sweaty, freckled skin. 

Resting his weight on his free arm, Sebastian leaned closer as he sighed heavily while his brown eyes fluttered shut from the way your mouth felt on his neck. He rocked his hips into your hand and pumped his fingers a few more times inside of you before he was withdrawing the digits to push his briefs down all the way. You merely chuckled against his throat, pulling off of the fresh, blossoming mark with a satisfied hum before you laved your tongue over it. 

Once Sebastian had finally wrestled off his briefs and settled over you again, you tugged him by the neck back into a hungry kiss, and he groaned deeply at the way you moved perfectly against him. As you curled your tongue between his lips, your hands traversed down the broad expanse of his toned back to feel as much of him as you could, pawing encouragingly at his lower back to guide him into a languid, grinding rhythm against you. 

Sebastian let himself follow your lead for a few slow thrusts, but the way your skin felt against his– coupled with the way your quiet moans sounded muffled against his lips– was too tempting to overlook for long. Following a brief, bitey kiss, Sebastian dropped his hand between your legs once again to press at your wet, warm entrance. You shivered at the way his fingers felt against you as he coaxed you into relaxing, and your nails dug into his sculpted shoulders when he mercifully worked two of his thick digits inside of you. A string of moans and praises alike fell from your lips as your head lolled back against the pillows, and the remnants of Sebastian’s restraint began to slip away as a result. 

“Fuck, darling,” he keened breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off of your face as your expression shifted into one of pure pleasure. His buried his fingers to the knuckles, utterly overwhelmed at how tight you were, and he nudged his nose against your cheek as he murmured, “You look so fucking good right now…”

“Y-You may have mentioned that, yeah,” you laughed against his sweat-slick skin, blinking affectionately up at your now-boyfriend as he took in your pliant body beneath him, and the thought imbued you with a fresh sense of desire that you were desperate to act on. “Come on, I want you inside me already.” 

With a wheezy laugh, Sebastian nodded and ducked his head to catch your lips again as he started thrusting his fingers into your pulsing heat. He nibbled gently at your bottom lip when he buried his fingers deep to curl them towards your stomach, which in turn earned him a squeaky little moan that was immediately followed by an impatient wriggle of your hips. Your legs were trembling with barely contained want as you spread them further, and Sebastian took full advantage of the newly acquired space to readjust himself into a more comfortable position. 

By the time you were panting against him and rocking back onto his fingers, Sebastian was more than ready to move things along. He slid his fingers out and pulled away with another quick kiss before sitting up to steady his cock at your entrance. You helpfully wrapped your legs around his waist again, angling your hips towards him with a coy smile on your face until you felt the head of his achingly hard member bump against you. Sebastian flashed you a doting smile in return, and with an unhurried roll of his hips, he was sinking into you with a throaty groan that made your hair stand on end. 

“F-Fuck, you feel so warm– you’re perfect, darling,” he grit through his clenched teeth, plunging himself deeper inch by inch until he had bottomed out completely inside of you. The way your walls fluttered around him made him dizzy with need, but he noted the tension in your shoulders and forced himself to maintain his slow pace so you could get acclimated to the feeling. Sebastian was practically fluent in your stubborn body language by now, and he was nothing if not determined to get you to relax completely. 

Rather than thrusting deeper, Sebastian sighed and licked his lips as he glanced up at your face. You were an incredibly tense person on the best of days, but when you were running on fumes like this, he found it to be even harder to get you to release the mountain of stress you seemingly carried with you at all times. While he was all too used to the frown lines that so frequently cropped up between your brows, seeing them now just made Sebastian want to be even gentler with you– even more careful. 

He lightly nudged your head aside and set to dragging hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat, moaning wantonly at the bare salt of your sweat on his tongue. You shivered and gasped, tilting your head to the side with a low sigh to grant the brunet more access, and before long the combined feeling of Sebastian’s tongue and lips on your neck had you melting under him completely with your eyes blissfully closed. 

“That feels… really good,” you murmured with a low voice. It was pure rapture to feel Sebastian this way; moving slowly inside of you, his lips dancing down your throat and nipping softly at the skin there. His hands eventually crept up the pillows to tangle in your hair, and the enticing feeling of his nails scraping against your scalp was enough to have you tightening around his cock a fraction. 

The praise sent a bolt of confidence through Sebastian, and he moved from your neck back to your lips to slot your mouths together again. He gingerly pulled his hips back before rolling them forward, and when you moved down against him with a shaky breath, it was all the go-ahead he needed to keep going. 

The rhythm he fell into was slow and steady, moving inside you with long, easy thrusts while he ground against your ass every time he buried himself deep. His eyes remained trained on your face, your expression clearly showing how pleased you were to be taken care of. You weren’t squirming in blatant pleasure yet, but Sebastian figured this was a good enough first step. 

“C’mon, Sebastian– you’re putting me to sleep here,” you mumbled playfully, letting your arms rest above your head in the way Sebastian loved to see. His tempo faltered slightly, but your mischievous grin betrayed the legitimacy of the claim; he should’ve known you were simply teasing him, especially when he knew you always got a kick out of taunting him. 

“Oh yeah?” He practically purred, sitting back on his heels to wrap his hands around your hips as he hauled you aggressively into his lap. 

You adjusted to him easily, wiggling your hips in Sebastian’s grasp in a bid to spur him onward. “Yeah… jeez, Sallow, you had one job. Tsk tsk.” 

“Well, shit.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he rolled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out and relishing in the way your face fell briefly. He hovered there for a long, torturous second before he snapped his hips back into you, using his grip to hold you down on his cock as he ground deeper and harder than before. You were left gasping at the feeling, your head falling back as your fingers twisted in the sheets, and before you could recover, Sebastian rasped, “Guess I should fuck you better then, huh?” 

Without giving you room to breathe, Sebastian kept up his agonizingly slow pace, easily pulling you back onto his cock with every firm thrust. He fucked into you evenly– his strong hands controlling the rhythm in the way he knew drove you crazy– and it earned him a cacophony of shaky moans that fell from your flushed, bitten lips. 

“Yeah,” you replied finally, your voice tight and shaky. “You have to keep me up all morning, remember?” 

It was a simple enough statement, but the way it rolled off of your tongue made it sound absolutely filthy. Your raspy voice was dripping with lust, your hot breath panting out between your parted lips, and that was more than enough to light a fire in Sebastian’s blood. 

Groaning roughly, Sebastian paused long enough to hook his arms under your knees to haul them easily over his shoulders. You gasped as the movement lifted you off of your hips– then again when he nipped sharply at the inside of your knee before sucking hard enough to leave another flushed bruise there. The sensation had you squirming in Sebastian’s lap to the best of your ability, moaning breathlessly as he ground into you with a low rumble. 

Once he was satisfied with his mark, the freckled man rubbed his hands slowly down your tense thighs, leaning over you on his hands again so you were effectively bent back and pressed against the sheets. Sebastian leaned more of his weight into you– sinking deeper– and just as you were opening your mouth to urge him on, he started moving again. 

He picked up his pace from before easily, but now, every slow, hard thrust stuffed you full of him, and it didn’t take him long to find the angle that had you gasping sweet little moans with every shaky breath. 

Writhing under him, you arched your back and gasped Sebastian’s name as your hands tightened in the covers above your head and pulled ardently. He was fucking you slowly– but at this angle everything felt so intense– enough so that any teasing pretense you’d previously had was quickly washed away beneath constant, steady waves of pleasure. Your toes curled in the air behind him as your thighs quivered and flexed against his chest, but beyond that, you were entirely at his mercy. 

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and his own fingers gripped the sheets on either side of your head. The view he had of you was fucking insane; between the incredible face you were making, the way every thrust sent electric little sparks all throughout the both of you, and the way your cunt tightened around his cock with every deep thrust– he couldn’t help but moan your name, brainless praises falling from his lips whenever he could string the words together. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, shakily riding your hips up against the brunet’s to meet his every thrust with keening moans. “Sebastian, fuck– more, more, please–”

He made a soft, broken sound at that, then shrugged your knees off his shoulders to let them fall into the bends of his elbows instead. Surging forward, he captured your lips with his and slipped his tongue between them, and you took full advantage of the closer proximity by burying your fingers in his messy, brown curls and pulling him impossibly closer. 

With you bent nearly in half this way, your knees almost touched the sheets and in turn gave Sebastian the room to pull back farther and thrust deeper– managing to maintain his steady rhythm and simultaneously drag his cock hard all along your sweet spot. You were positively shaking under him, gasping pretty, noisy little sounds into your shared kiss as you wound your fingers restlessly through his hair and pulled just to have something to hold onto. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his hips harder, his self-control stretched thin by how perfect you were. 

How you looked, how you sounded, how you felt… he wanted more of you– more of the loud, pleading moans that tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Gods, darling–” Sebastian leaned down and sank his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing his body against yours as much as he could. You bucked up against him and cried out at the sharp, sweet sting of your lover’s teeth, your head writhing against the pillows frantically as your hands fisted in his hair so you could press his face encouragingly against your flushed throat. It pulled a brutal groan from Sebastian as he bit harder, sucking yet another dark bruise into your skin, and the sound you made in response was enough to send his mind spinning.

Your voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, your loud moans and cries of his name falling freely from your lips as Sebastian marked you mercilessly. The ragged sounds coming out of him almost sounded like growls muffled against your throat, and the feeling of being so full had you arching your back clean off the mattress. Your nails raked viciously down his neck and shoulders before digging into his strong biceps, but the sting from the welting lines only served to rile him up further. 

When you threw your head to the side and began shaking, your voice cracking as you wailed for Sebastian in the way that told him you were close, he pulled his arm out from under your trembling thigh to plant his thumb firmly against your clit and began rubbing tight circles against the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. As he brought you closer to your climax, gasping filthy praises between stuttered moans, Sebastian sped up his pace until he was pounding his cock into you, doing his best to keep you bent at that perfect angle as he did so. Your entire body seemingly snapped off the bed– arched tight and clinging hard to his larger frame as you clawed your nails down his arms– and your airy voice rose higher and transformed into a desperate, overwhelmed scream that cracked and made Sebastian’s brain go completely blank. 

You shook apart entirely in Sebastian’s arms, tight and blindingly hot around his cock, squirming beautifully under him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your slick coated his shaft as he relentlessly pumped into you, until the thunderous rush of his own climax crashed down around him. Warm, thick ropes of his cum filled you as he emptied himself inside, and Sebastian swore nothing on this Earth could ever hold a candle to how marvelous the feeling was.

He was vaguely aware of himself moaning your name over and over again– stammering out mumbled praises of good, so good darling, fuck. His hands gripped your hips tight as he curled over you and clung to you for dear life while he mouthed brainlessly against your heated skin. It took both of you a few long minutes to come down from your peaks; you with your arm slung over your eyes, and Sebastian slowly wrapping himself tighter and tighter around you to gather you closer. Even once the trembling had subsided, he couldn’t find a good enough reason to move. He twitched his hips back to pull out– mostly for your sake– but that was about all he could manage. 

“Holy shit,” you rasped out after a while, catching Sebastian’s bleary attention. He blinked up at you and watched as you dropped your arm above your head to stare up at the ceiling, and he hungrily took in the steady rise and fall of your bare chest as you caught your breath. 

He snorted softly and dragged his palms along your still shaking thighs– still loosely draped around his waist. “You alright?” There was something to be said about how pleased he was by the low, smokey sound of his own voice, and evidently you were too, considering how it sent more shivers up your spine. You nodded though, tugging at his shoulder to silently urge him closer. 

Sebastian slithered up until he was close enough to catch your lips, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, sated kiss while your fingers combed through his tangled curls. All too graciously, he melted against you– for once not fighting the desire to affectionately trail his knuckles down the line of your jaw. After a few minutes of languid kissing and mindless touching, Sebastian rolled to the side and let you readjust so you were laying on your side with your back to his chest, giving him the chance to wind his arms around your waist and hold you against him. 

He knew he was meant to be keeping you awake leading up to Potions class, but a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Beyond a herd of Thestrals stampeding through the room, Sebastian sorely doubted that anything could drag him away from this moment with you. He’d waited long enough for it as it was. 

—

After turning your assignment in and sitting through a particularly dreadful lesson for an hour, you’d finally been free’d from the shackles of the education system for the weekend, and you’d quickly found yourself sprawled across Sebastian’s bed with the curtains drawn. You were currently dead asleep and likely to stay that way for a while, but the brunet didn’t mind in the slightest. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was especially interested in lengthy cuddling with his girlfriend, so he had no problem with the current arrangement. 

With his fingers tangled idly in your sleep-mussed hair, Sebastian watched as the bright streaks of daylight moved across the ceiling while you used his chest as a pillow, far too content to be bothered by how damn long it took to get to this point.