#stop and pick the wildflowers

[icedmetaltea]

Goves you a flower crown cause you deserve something as beautiful as your soul~☆

YOU'RE SO SWEET WHAT

[willowser]

your little angel of a son inherits katsuki's bad temper, and it manifests in his terrible fours.

there's an awful little shriek that echoes throughout the house and katsuki is on his feet and halfway to the living room before his eyes are even open—but the only danger awaiting him there is a pouty little brat.

his son is sitting amidst a swarm of toys that have been strewn about haphazardly, and his arms are crossed and big fat tears are in his eyes and he looks mad as all hell. you do, too, sitting across from him with a deep frown, holding the ripped page of a book from his little shelf.

"no sir," you warn, "we do not treat our things this way."

you incite a meltdown.

katsuki feels his own temper flaring—half from shock and awe at his little mini-me and also from the exhaustion wearing him thin—when your son kicks his legs out in a burst of rage, letting out another little shriek of anger. your cheeks puff up, wearing the same furious expression, and at the hiss of his name, the little brat jumps to his feet and snatches a toy truck nearby and launches it across the room.

"oi!"

your son's attention snaps to katsuki, startled, losing a hint of anger as he pouts at the floor.

"what'd she just tell you?" and when he gets no response, katsuki prods with a, "hah? answer me."

but the little boy only stamps his little feet and grunts out a furious, wordless sound that has katsuki's lip curling. you let out a heavy sigh, shaking your head at him before frowning down at the torn page in your hands, and then katsuki is planting a hand on the back of his son's head and steering him towards the front door.

"time to take a walk."

the boy goes, even though his arms are crossed and his eyes are downcast. he only resists once, as katsuki tries to shove his little feet into his shoes.

"i don't wanna." he mumbles, face scrunched and wet before promptly looking away.

"i didn't ask."

"hmm!"

katsuki has to resist the urge to pinch his own son.

they get out the door eventually, and the little boy stomps along for the most part, no longer needing a guiding hand on the back of his head once they get around the block a time or two. neither of them say anything.

fatherhood has taught katsuki a lot of things, which was expected, but the one thing that's surprised him is—he's learned all the things he doesn't want his son to be.

the first of them being angry. not the way katsuki was, mean and selfish, throughout his childhood; hateful and careless, in his teens; shut off and simmering, even now.

he waits until the tension has melted off his little shoulders, until his little face has dried and evened out. his arms swing at his sides, occasionally coming up to wipe his snot with the back of his hand, and he eyes the few wildflowers they pass with a little hum and a small smile.

katsuki tugs once on his ear, frowning down at the little brat when he peeks up at him. "that how you're supposed to treat your mama?"

he doesn't answer at first, leaning his head all the way back and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, until katsuki stops walking. "no, sir."

"how you s'posed to treat her?"

"with love."

"how you s'posed to treat your toys?"

"with care."

"uh-huh," katsuki squishes his son's cheeks in his hand, shaking his head lightly from side to side until he starts giggling. "that how you acted today?"

"no, sir."

"that how y'r gonna act again?"

"no, sir."

"okay," katsuki murmurs, nodding once before letting him free. the little boy bounces on his feet and sucks on his lip, grinning when his tummy is pinched. "now pick those for your mama."

and he does, carefully plucking a small handful of flowers from the grass as they make their way back home, and just before he runs up the steps to the house, katsuki's little angel of a son hands him the biggest one.

[charliemwrites]

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

[zyafics]

omg hi!! hope ur doing well i love ur writing btw, (play fake is one of my fav fics ive EVER read!!)

could u do a fic where rafe and reader are like best friends, and they’ve always both kinda liked each other but they dont really act upon it, until rafe gets a buzzcut and reader starts acting like real shy and clumsy around him bcs she’s shocked abt how he could get even MORE attractive, and then he gets linda confused so he asks her why she’s acting so different and then she tells him? make it as smutty and fluffy as u want! 🫶🫶

first off, ily 🥹 and omg, YES!! i've been thinking about this ever since i got your req in my inbox, so here's my very earnest attempt at doing it justice 🩷

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x bsf!female reader

content (5.3k words) 18+, fluff, smut, soft!rafe to reader only, protected p in v, f receiving oral, lots of banter!, nicknames used: baby and wildflower. — reader type kook, spontaneous, loves adventure, hates silence, loves noises, doesn't exactly like her reality, and friends with topper and kelce, but is only close to rafe!

dedication to @mintforadollar for helping me with the nickname and for @erwinsvow for her lovely fic, which i drew inspiration from and i've been obsessing over for the past two weeks <3

lıllılı Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

"I want to run away."

It takes a moment for Rafe to register your confession and his response is a drowsy laugh. "Buy a guy dinner first."

You let out a groan, slumping against your wrinkled sheets and abundant pillows spread across your bed. "I'm being serious, Rafe. I'm tired of this house. It's too empty and quiet. I can't stand it. At night, I think I can hear my skin buzzing."

Rafe is accustomed to your sporadic calls regarding whatever issues you had with the world. Last week, it was about the insufficient amount of family portraits that frame the halls of your mansion.

"Maybe you just need to change your sheets."

"Stop!" You chastise. Rafe chokes up with another beat of laughter, low and rich with the deep timbre of his voice. The sound temporarily draws you away from your rant, igniting a small ember in your stomach. You brush away those tingly thoughts. "You're not listening to me."

"I think I'm listening to you perfectly fine, wildflower." He reassures, the solemnity of his tone takes you off the edge. Rafe shuffles on the other line, moving to a sitting position against his headboard. "What do you want? Do you want me to come pick you up?"

You cower from his offer, tucking one of your pillows under your chin. "You don't have to..."

"Don't get all shy with me now. You can't act this way when you're waking me up in the dead of night to report about your getaway plans."

"I feel bad."

Rafe sighs, getting off his bed. He knows the outcome of this conversation and rather prepares himself for the short drive. "I'm heading over."

"I could walk."

"It's freezing outside."

"Your house is down the block. I can survive."

"I'm already out the door. Just stay put." Rafe announces and before he's about to disconnect the call, he adds. "I'm serious."

He arrives in record time. Honking his truck with no regards for the nearby neighbors and you pad downstairs with a bag, descending down the driveway to the passenger side of his truck. A little shiver travels down your spine at the cool North Carolina weather.

"God, what did I tell you?" He scolds, noticing your lack of outwear, and reaches for the blanket in the backseats he keeps just for you. He throws it at your face, suffocating your air with a fluffy white fleece. You roll your eyes, covering your shoulders with it as Rafe reverses. "Where do you want to go?"

"Thought I'm supposed to buy you a meal first."

He doesn't bother entertaining your retort with a glance and flicks the side of your head with his fingers. You giggle. "We're not running away."

"Who said you're included in this adventure? I remember it being a one-person job."

Rafe scoffs. "You can't run away. You'd miss me too much."

"No, you'd miss me too much." You tease back, watching his lips pull to an upward curve at your words. It makes your heart flutters, knowing you always manage to get this side of Rafe. To the rest of Outer Banks, Rafe is seen as a precarious, self-absorbed playboy, but to you, he's your best friend.

And a little more.

The truck parks on the roadside of Tannyhill, the silhouettes of the estate surrounded by shadowy oak trees and a deep reflection of the moon on their waterfront view. Rafe doesn't make a move to leave, nor turn off the engine, before he turns to you.

"You okay?" He asks gravely, all humor stripped off his handsome features. You feel the air of your lungs stolen, at the amount of attention he's paying you, and the atmospheric change turns you to a bashful version of yourself.

"Fine." You answer, looking to your lap. "You know..."

Despite your house being a near-identical model to Rafe's, you hate yours. It's nothing about the architecture but rather the emptiness of the hallways. The cold floors sweep with minimalist decors. The echoes in the chambers where you can hear every little whirl in the air conditioner and creaks in the pipes. You'd rather be at Tannyhill.

Rafe doesn't say anything for the next few moments, observing you, before conceding a sigh. "Tell you what. I'll take you out on the Druthers tomorrow. We'll go bright and early, sail out for a couple of hours, watch the sunrise and it'll be something."

You lift your head, eyes lit up. "Is this our escape?"

"We gotta come back, though."

You frown but the offer remains enticing. It's better than nothing.

"Okay, deal." You nod, holding out your pinkie finger. Rafe scoffs at your gesture, but nonetheless, returns it. "Don't look so glum. You get to hang out with me."

"You do realize we have about three hours of sleep?"

You glance at the clock on his dashboard. He's right. But, you don't want to hold it off till another day. "I can go by myself. Just give me the keys for tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes, as if he would even consider that suggestion, and shakes his head. "I'm coming with you."

"Aren't you afraid you won't get your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up and get in the house."

You laugh and hop out of his truck. When you enter through his bedroom, you throw your bag to a random corner and stroll over to his closet in search for one of Rafe's tees to sleep in.

When you settle on something, you strip out of your clothes—in the middle of his bedroom, just as Rafe enters—and exchange it for his shirt. He had little regard for your act, having grown accustomed to you changing in front of him and vice versa. 

All Rafe does is pull off his own shirt, because he likes to sleep naked, and turns back to you. Unlike him, you're never going to get used to seeing him naked—the defined muscles of his chest, the toned planes of his abs, all those hours spent at the gym are clearly not wasted.

You flush, realizing you're ogling him longer than appropriate, and lift your gaze to find a smirk curving his lips. "Oh, shut it," you push his shoulders, causing him to laugh. He takes the opportunity to capture your hand, pulling the both of you onto his mattress, and you yelp.

Rafe changes your position so you're facing him, an arm sprawls over your waist, and there's about a couple of inches of space between the two of you. Here, in the low streams of the moonlight glistening through the veiled curtains and the faint aroma of his cologne on his pillows, you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

You say nothing. He says nothing, You stare into his cerulean eyes, knowing all this little emotions you're feeling all over—the light pricks on your skin where he touches you, the lapse in your breathing from how attentive he is, and the sharp incline of your heart rate pulsing through your veins—is because of him.

His voice is low when he says, "you know you're my best friend, right?"

You couldn't find it in you to answer. You just nod.

Rafe swallows hard, not having the ability to string together the next sentence. Instead, all he does is nod along, leaning forward to place a light kiss on your forehead, before falling asleep.

The next morning, just an hour before the sunrise, Rafe and you head to the ports to board the Druthers. Despite the lack of adequate sleep, you were giddily and strumming with high energy. He holds out his hand to guide you up the stairs, afraid your enthusiasm would cause you to miss a step. 

When the Druthers is far enough from shore, it pulls to a halt, gently bobbing on the ocean waves of the tame morning. You settle on the deck and Rafe slides into the spot next to you. Here, you have the perfect view of the sun slowly rising from the horizon, painting the sky in a palette of red, orange and yellow.

You're grinning. You're feeling much better, especially after your melodramatic episode. Your head rests on Rafe's chest, observing the skyline until the sun reaches its acme, while he watches you. Something about you, happy, content, and with him brings a warmth no one can replicate.

"We have to go swimming." You announce suddenly, twisting your head to look at him with excitement bubbling on your features, doe eyes pleading with a want.

His expression is flat, trying to contain his emotions. "It's seven in the morning."

"So? When has that stopped me before?"

"It's freezing cold."

"That's your excuse for everything." You scoff, before tilting your head in a challenge. "Are you scared of a little water, Rafe Cameron?"

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something about the way you talk to him, he would never allow from anyone else. It's just you. He had to look away, pretending to shake his head from the idea but knowing, at the end, he lost.

With a long dip into the ocean, you swim around the Druthers with light splashes thrown in his face, causing Rafe to chase after you for your little stunt. When the pair of you returned to the boat, dripping wet on the floor deck, laughter exchanging at the break of dawn.

"You cheated!" You accuse, grinning.

"I did not. You're just slow."

When you change out of your bikini and Rafe changes out of his swim trunks, you return to the cockpit where Rafe dons a new attire: khaki pants, a polo shirt, and his backward baseball cap. The air shifts, a more solemn expression on his face.

"You had enough now, wildflower?" He tips his head to your direction, as you approach him. "Ready to return back to the real world?"

You groan. "What's so special about that place?"

"Nothing that matters to you," he declares, "but I have a couple of errands I have to run today. I have to get back, but I won't leave until you're feeling better."

"Hm." You consider your satisfaction. Standing before Rafe, you watch as his lips curl in amusement at the way you're mauling through the finer details. The itinerary of your day and whether it was enough. When your eyes lock with his, you offer him a sweet smile, albeit a little reluctant.

"What?"

You don't answer him, reaching for his hat and taking it off his head, before plopping it over your own as a keepsake souvenir. "Now, I am."

—

After spending your afternoon with Topper and Kelce at the Country Club, distracting them from their tee time with your commentary about their swings, Rafe finally arrives to join you.

But it's different.

When Rafe said he had a couple of errands to run, you didn't ask for their specifics. He just said he'll join you later and you were content with that assumption.

You should've prepared yourself.

Rafe got a new haircut; a buzz that took away his dirty blond locks and a clean fade on the sides. For some reason, it makes your heart accelerate. Your breath shortens. Rafe has always been attractive before but now, you couldn't even look at him.

When he tries to approach you in greeting, you dip out of the way and return to Topper and Kelce. However, in the middle of your path, you nearly tripped over some hazardously-abandoned golf club one of the boys threw out, but Rafe caught you. A hand on your elbow, his brows drawn together in concern.

"You good?" He asks. You can't help but let your eyes stray up to his hairline, finding it voided of the curtain bangs it previously occupies and the strands you like to mess with. Your gaze instantly drops to the ground.

"I'm–I'm fine." You stutter, heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassing fact that you couldn't even make a clean getaway. Rafe helps you find your balance and you slip out of his grasp as you excuse yourself back to the other Kooks.

That's how the rest of the evening went. Through another round of golf and a dinner at the restaurant inside the Country Club, you try to ignore Rafe to the best of your abilities. It was a difficult task but a necessary one. Your emotions were fuzzy and harder to control. You couldn't even look at your best friend without flushing or revealing everything on your face.

You thought you could wait it out till you get home.

"Come on, wildflower." Rafe grabs your wrist, just as you're about to join Topper in his car, and you turn to face his contempt expression. Annoyance written over his features. "I'm driving you home."

"No, it's fine. Top said he can give me a ride—"

"We live nearby each other. There's no point for Top to do all that. Right?" Rafe cuts a hard look to the blond in the driver seat, to whom easily backs off with two hands raised in surrender. Coward. Rafe turns back to you. "Let's go."

You end up in the passenger seat of his truck. On the long drive back to Figure Eight, you were uncharacteristically quiet. Often, you would fidget with the stereo, messing with Rafe's presets on country and rap stations, to which he always has to swat your hands away. Today, you sat obediently in your seat, hands tucked between your thighs, looking anywhere but Rafe.

"You're not going to listen to music?" He asks, trying to cut the silence. You shake your head.

"I'm not feeling it."

You try to count the seconds. You try to distract yourself by looking out the window and listening to the chirps of crickets coming out, but all you can focus on is the sound of yours and Rafe's breathing. The acute awareness of something in the air. The amount of space between the two of you. The way something deep in you changed about him.

It isn't his fault. Whatsoever. It's all yours. All those times spent at Tannyhill, stealing his shirts to wear to sleep, cuddling up in his bed after sneaking out of your estate, running around with Rafe doing god-knows-what. You developed something for him. A crush. An inkling.

You always told yourself you could control it. It's natural for best friends to like each other at one point. It'll fade away eventually.

But, unfortunately for you, that isn't the case. it got worse. It grew more desperate. With each inching territory into something else means a larger consequence it can have on your friendship.

You can't lose him.

"Hey." Rafe calls out, his voice softens considerably from the aggression he used with Topper a while back. You don't turn to face him, despite that being his sole objective, and you respond back with a light hum. "Am I driving you home or Tannyhill?"

To you, those are the same things. Home is where Tannyhill is, where Rafe is. But, you knew what he was referring to.

"Tannyhill." You answer in a chipped tone. "I forgot my bag."

"Of course, you did." He teases, trying to break the tension with some lightheartedness. It doesn't work. You don't answer, too lost in resisting the urge to look at him.

Rafe sighs when you refuse to acknowledge him and turns back to the road. That's when you spare a glance from the corner of your peripheral; just a small peek.

And there he is: Rafe with the fresh shave that is such a strange yet welcomed sight. It brings out a clearer definition of his handsome features, the planes of his sharp profile, the cut of his jawline and the wrinkles around his eyes you always adore. It's too much for you.

You can't let him know that.

He's your best friend.

When he reaches Tannyhill, you leap out of the moving vehicle and race up the porch. You take the hidden key from under the mat and turn the lock, slipping into the familiar foyer and up the large stairwell.

Racing against an internal clock, once you enter the bedroom, you search for your bag, but you can't seem to pinpoint its location. When you manage to miraculously find it underneath the covers, you throw it over your shoulders and sprint to the exit.

Only for Rafe to block it.

"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks, his brows furrowed together as he examines you. You quickly drop your gaze to the ground, pretending to be interested in the patterns on the marble.

"I just..." You stammer for an excuse. "I just got to get home."

"Why? You hate your house."

"I don't hate it." You lie. The conversation tips into an awkward tension—the exact thing you were trying to avoid. You think you need to spend a day, or two, or a whole week, to collect yourself and force yourself back to normal. Back to when you can look at him without revealing everything on your face.

"God, what is it? You don't like it?" Rafe laughs with an ounce of nervousness and the sound takes you back. You look up, finding him running a hand over his buzzcut. "It's my hair, isn't it?"

He didn't know why he decided to buzz it off. He just did. He didn't care if his father didn't approve or if Wheezie would make fun of him for the sudden change in appearance. That didn't matter to him.

But your opinions did.

"What?" Your lips part. Were you that obvious? "I never said that."

"You didn't need to. This entire evening, you've barely looked at me."

He's right.

"I was busy."

"Playing golf with Top? You hate that shit." He retorts, dropping his hand to his side, clenching them into whiten knuckles. "And when we were at the restaurant. You were sitting with Kelce. Why the fuck were you sitting with him instead of me?"

You swallow hard. Your throat is tightening with all the words you can't reveal.

"Maybe I just want to change it up. I am friends with them too—"

"But you're my friend first."

You scoff. "Possessive much?"

"Very." He answers nonchalantly. Your heart skips a beat. He can't say that; it's not fair. "And knowing you for so long, I know what you're telling me is complete and total bullshit."

His hand slides under your jaw, lifting your gaze to meet his, and you can't help but feel your walls crumbling. You're afraid. You're so afraid.

"Come on, wildflower." He murmurs softly, swiping his thumb across your cheek. "Tell me the truth."

You have always been able to do that. In ways. When Rafe asks something of you, you're always able to tell him straight. It's one of the qualities he likes about you. Now is the first time you're going against your nature. Because it's too close, too real, that it can change everything.

Your throat grows dry and you lick your bottom lip, causing Rafe to glance down.

"I..." You begin, trying to string together a coherent sentence that won't damage everything. He raises a brow, waiting. "Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you."

You close your eyes after the confession. Your heart is in his hands.

All the air in the room stills, as if the air conditioner turns off and you're all left with a tense, palpable silence. You can't bear it. At least, at your house, you can blast your speakers on full-volume to create some level of noise and block it out. Here, all you can hear is the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"Say something." You urge.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you too."

Your heart drops. You think he doesn't understand. He thinks you can't stand him physically, especially after his haircut, and this is a similar sentiment shared by him about you.

He doesn't feel the same way.

"Oh."

You open your eyes, trying hard not to cry. You can feel them swelling with hot tears but you blink fast, trying to not let Rafe see.

He immediately recognizes the look, drawing back his hand. That’s not what he meant. "Don't cry."

You're not doing a good job at hiding anything today. "No, it's okay," you say with a crack voice, "you don't have to—"

"No, fuck," he swears, "what I mean is that, sometimes, when you look at me, I just—" He couldn't explain himself, not in time, not in the way he wants, that he covers your eyes, flooding your vision with darkness and heightening every other sense.

Rafe releases a deep exhale, collecting himself. "Those eyes..." He mumbles, the resonance of his voice so close, it's as if he's right beside you. You feel his breathing fanning against the curve of your neck, raising goosebumps. "They drive me fucking insane."

Then, he kisses your neck.

The act jolts you by surprise.

"Everything about you drives me insane." He confesses against your heated skin, the vibration of his words sending straight tingles through your body. "I can't go a day without thinking about you. About wanting you."

Not just as a best friend, but as a whole. Everything about you he needs. In his life; forever. Sometimes, he can't believe you exist.

You're overwhelmed with all these new emotions. Your heart is swelling. "Rafe..."

"You're my best friend, right?" He muses, delivering kisses up the column of your throat to the underside of your jaw, and making his way closer to your lips. "But you're also the only one for me."

Before he gets to your mouth, you grab his wrist, the one holding you blindfolded. He stops in place—afraid this is your time to reject him.

"Rafe." You breathe out. "Can I see you?"

He slowly removes his hand, allowing your vision to flood back with his presence. This time, the sight of Rafe doesn't push you into overdrive. There's a new sense of clarity and calm, an elated comfort you don't share with anyone else.

You take your time drinking him in. From his face, to his lips, to the fresh haircut you're feeling entirely too grateful for. You do it all without fear.

"What?" He demands, his insecurities skyrocketing through the roof. "Don't like it?"

"I love you."

His heart lunges in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming from your lips. When it completely registers that this is not some sweet, wet dream he's going to wake up from, his hands reach forward to cup either side of your face and he finally kisses you.

His force pushes you back against his bed and you land on the mattress with a soft thump. You laugh into his mouth and Rafe grins against your lips.

"Eager, much?"

"I wanted to hear you say that for so long." He admits, his hand travels down your waist to grab your hips and pull you closer. Rafe deepens the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you're making, until you have to pull away to catch your breath.

You can't believe this is happening.

"I didn't know you were such a good kisser."

"Yeah? You wanna know what else I'm good at?"

Your eyes drop to his pants, seeing the subtle outline of his erection straining against his zipper, and he chuckles lowly. "You want it tonight?"

You nod timidly. Your eyes dropping to your lap again, but this time, Rafe doesn't allow you to do such things.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to his. "Don't do that, baby. You know how I feel about you getting shy from asking what you want. Use your words."

The new nickname is making you lightheaded. You can't believe this is real. "I want you, Rafe."

Sweetest goddamn words he ever heard.

He tips his head to your clothes. "Take it off."

"You first."

He laughs at your competitiveness, always trying to challenge him, but he doesn't resist. He pushes himself off the mattress, pulling off his shirt and removing his pants. All that is left is his boxer-briefs, which reveals the outline of his bulge. "Your turn."

You take off your shirt and your shorts and decide, last minute, to go the extra mile and unclasp your bra too. It falls over your shoulders and you throw it out onto the floor.

Rafe takes his time, staring at your tits. He has seen you naked before, the consequence of your intimate relationship that pushes the boundaries into blurred lines and the inevitable collision of morning showers in his ensuite and drunken exchanges after parties.

But this time, it's different. This time, it's a sight that's intentional—just for him.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

You gawk at him, the words send a thrill down your spine. "Do you know how long I waited for this?" You gesture back to him, at his naked frame, and he smirks.

"You got an eyeful last night."

"Oh, shut up," you use your leg to kick him, but Rafe catches your ankle in the process. Your eyes widen as he uses the opportunity to spread your legs apart, sinking between your thighs. His gaze finds your soaked panties.

His thumb traces across your panties, drawing out your wetness against the fabric and collecting your arousal. You whimper, aching into his touch.

"Rafe, please." You beg. His eyes lifts to find yours in a self-satisfied grin. He loves knowing you're this desperate for him, only him, that his fingers hook under the band of your panties.

"Lift your hips for me." He commands and you obey. He pulls off your panties and hauls you to the ledge of his bed. With that, his fingers caress your wet slit, drawing out a low moan from you. "Fuck."

He has imagined that sound a thousand times over, but it's incomparable to the real thing. To know you're feeling this way because of him. He feels himself growing harder, straining against the thin fabric and begging to be inside of you.

But he wants to pleasure you first.

Rafe lowers himself and covers your clit with his mouth. He proceeds to suck, his fingers grazing your entrance before plunging a thick digit inside.

You tip your head against the mattress, reveling in the feel of his tongue against your swollen nub, the way he thrusts into you with a steady pace and the additive finger. Your legs drape over his shoulders, closing him in.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet," Rafe mumbles against you, the vibration of his words stirring something inside of you. "I can't believe I haven't been tasting you every single fucking night."

You draw out with a breathy moan, feeling yourself clench at his words. "We have all the time now."

"I bet I can make you come on my face fast, though."

You don't get a chance to entertain the response before Rafe sucks harder, pumping inside of you with a determined speed that causes you to arch off the mattress and claw at his sheets.

"Shit," you whimper, squeezing your thighs together at the intense pleasure, forcing Rafe to use his free hand to push your legs apart. You feel your climax rapidly approaching. "Oh, god, oh, god."

You come on his face, as promised, and you slump back against the bed, catching your breath. Rafe removes his hand from your cunt, the emptiness causes a little whine.

"What?" He looks at you.

"Nothing," you mumble, "I just want you inside me."

He laughs. "God, you're needy," he teases, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, you'll get it soon."

He goes to his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Just as he's about to tear it open, he glances down at you, extending the small square. "Want to do it?"

You nod, pushing yourself upright and taking it from his hands. You rip it open, as Rafe removes his boxers, and his cock springs free, red and swollen with a bit of precum. You smile, glancing up at him with your doe eyes. "Is that because of me?"

"Shut up."

You giggle, rolling the latex over his length, taking your time to admire his size. He's big and perfect, the tip of his cock dripping with his precum that you almost wish you could take him inside your mouth instead. However, despite the recent orgasm, your body wants him inside.

"Lay back." He commands thickly. "Spread your legs."

You do as he says, throbbing from the control he has in the room. Rafe sinks his knees into his mattress, approaching you as he pushes your thighs apart and lines his tip against your entrance, causing your breath to shorten.

"Come on, wildflower, breathe with me."

You nod shakily, closing your eyes for a moment to inhale a calming breath before he plunges deep inside you, filling you to the hilt. A gasp escapes you, his girth stretching you out, but it soon fades into a pleasure unlike any others.

"God, you feel good," he mumbles, lowering himself to your mouth and capturing your lips into a hot kiss. Your hand drapes over his shoulders as he begins to thrust inside of you. "Too fucking good."

You feel perfect. All of this is too perfect. The way you press against him, your fingernails scraping his back, the way your pussy grips him with the ideal amount of pressure, and the way your lips sync with his as if you were made for him.

The air fills with your whimpers and mewls, increasing in volume with each thrusts that enters and leaves you, while Rafe is heaving in breathy grunts and moans. He pushes your legs back, forcing the new position to grant him deeper access into your sweet cunt.

He's hitting new spots you didn't know were possible. It's making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cries coming out with desperate pleas, that he had to cover your mouth with his to swallow all the noises.

When you feel yourself reaching a familiar high, the buzz tingling between your legs, you grip his shoulders tight. Rafe feels your walls fluttering around him, and he quickened his pace, sweat breaking across his forehead.

Your breath is heavy, your heart is racing, and as you ascend into your peak, you moan out Rafe's name with such euphoric satisfaction, he comes with you, emptying into the condom.

When he finishes, he falls into the space next to you. His breathing is rough, trying to catch his own breath, that you can't help but turn your gaze to his, examining him under this new light.

Rafe catches you staring, the way your eyes lift to his hairline, and he reassures with a soft brush against your jaw. "It'll grow back, I promise."

"it's not that." You declare, dropping your gaze down to his face. You still can't believe the embarrassment you still feel by how attractive he is. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Why else would I hide from you?"

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. His hand drops to your waist, pulling you closer to him until you're skin-to-skin, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"You couldn't tell me the whole time?" He mumbles, kissing your nose. You giggle.

"If I did, we wouldn't be here having sex."

He takes a moment to consider your words, before finding some merit in them. "Fair." He declares, just as his eyes find yours again. This time, he can look at you, knowing you're his. "I guess next time I get a new haircut, I can propose, huh?"

Your heart drops. Your smile fades from surprise. "What?"

He laughs at your expression. "You think I'm letting you go after this? It's either us or nothing."

Maybe reality isn’t too bad. 

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[awkwardauthorwrites]

Friends Don't

Word Count: 4.2k

Themes: fluff, pining

Summary: Y/N comes to a startling revelation when brewing Amortentia in potions class

Warnings: All characters aged up to 18+. Potential spoilers for HL

Meet me in the Common Room, midnight - S 

Y/N looked across the cauldrons at Sebastian and nodded once, a small smile on her face. He grinned back, before turning to face Professor Sharp before he could get caught not paying attention. 

“Is that a love letter from Sallow?” Imelda leant forward, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Come off it,” Y/N rolled her eyes and tucked the note into her textbook. “You know we’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at friends that way,” she shot a look over at Sebastian, who was standing over his cauldron with a confused look on his face. His brow was furrowed as he looked between his textbook and the potion he was making, which was supposed to be a teal colour, but was currently navy blue. “Point proven.” Y/N turned back to her with an unimpressed glare as she stirred her own potion (which was the correct shade of teal).

“You need a new hobby. Clearly Quidditch isn’t keeping you busy enough.”

“Watching you and Sallow pine after each other like lovesick Crup puppies is my new hobby.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re in denial,” Imelda smiled sweetly as Y/N and turned back to her potion as Professor Sharp made his rounds by their station. He stopped by Sebastian’s smoking cauldron with a sigh and quiet reprimand (You’re usually better than this Mr Sallow) before moving onto the next group of students.

“If you’ve been following the instructions in your books,” Professor Sharp called out, “your potions should start turning pink as you stir it. Once it’s the right shade you may place the final ingredient in.”

Y/N watched in fascination as the contents of her cauldron began to change colour with every clockwise rotation of her wand. Although she had now been attending Hogwarts for two years, magic never failed to amaze her. She couldn’t believe she had gone the majority of her life not knowing it existed. The colour eventually shifted to the pale pink that Professor Sharp had spoken about and Y/N added the crushed moonstone and watched it take on a pearlescent sheen. 

“Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Y/L/N. Would you care to share with the class?” Sharp loomed over her shoulder, peering into her cauldron. Y/N watched as the class looked over curiously and caught Sebastian’s eye. He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed with her, and looked down at her potion as if to say well, go on then. She leant forward to smell the contents of the cauldron, trying to decipher the scents coming from in front of her. Petrichor, wildflowers and…oh. Y/N blinked and leant back so she could pick up the coffee beans Sharp had left on each station so they had a palate cleanser. After a quick smell of the bitter grounds she turned to her cauldron again. Oh.

“Well?” Imelda asked her.

“If it’s all the same, Professor. I’d rather not,” Y/N muttered, her face flaming. The class broke into a chorus of whispers, all trying to guess what scent had turned the Hero of Hogwarts a pretty shade of pink. Although it was hidden well, Y/N watched as Sharp’s mouth twitched up in amusement before he moved on from her.

“What did you smell?” Imelda whispered to her. Y/N shook her head, her heart thundering in her chest. She couldn’t tell anyone she had smelled Sebastian’s smoky cologne, the one that seemed to stick to him all day even though he barely used it. Imelda looked between Y/N’s red face and her cauldron before looking across the station to Sebastian and a knowing smirk fell on her features. “Sebastian…” Y/N shot her a warning look, which Imelda pointedly ignored. “What do you smell?”

“Nice try, Imelda,” he chuckled and stirred his own potion. “I’m not falling for that.”

“You’re both no fun.”

“Just because yours is probably something predictable like broom polish doesn’t mean we’re not fun for not wanting to share,” Y/N shot. Imelda let out a laugh and patted her friend’s hand. 

“Careful there Y/L/N, I’ve still got some cards up my sleeve for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Y/N glared at the girl next to her, stomach churning nervously. Imelda just grinned at her before adding her own crushed moonstone to her cauldron, signalling the end of the conversation. Y/N was vaguely aware of Sebastian watching them curiously from across the potions station and turned to face the raven-haired girl next to her, clutching the sleeve of her robes. “Imelda.”

“Calm down,” she laughed quietly and leant in so no one else could hear. “Your not-so-secret crush on Sallow is safe with me. I actually quite enjoy watching you two act like you don’t have feelings for each other.” With a wave of her wand, Imelda tidied her potions station and left the class swiftly, just as the bell rang outside. Y/N cursed the day she met the girl, and more specifically, became friends with her after completing all of her stupid broom trials, and quickly cleaned her own station before leaving the classroom. It wasn’t until she was halfway to the Great Hall for dinner that she realised what Imelda had implied with her parting words. 

Sebastian couldn’t have feelings for me, she wondered, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully, could he? No, that’s ridiculous, she shook her head to rid herself of the assumption.

“Careful, Y/N,” a hand grabbed the back of her robes and gently tugged her back a couple of steps before she could fall off the Grand Staircase. “You’re usually more aware than this, where did you go?” Sebastian looked concerned and pulled her away from a crowd of students that was walking their way. Y/N looked up at him, craning her neck more than she used to when they met in fifth year. Sometime in the summer between fifth and sixth year Sebastian had really come into his own. He had always been attractive, but somewhere along the way, without her really noticing, he had suddenly shot up and filled out. The jumper he wore to fight the perpetual chill in the dungeons did little to cover up the muscle that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. 

“Dinner, I’m starving,” she lied, freeing her robes from his grasp so she could continue to walk towards the Great Hall. “How’s Ominis? I haven’t heard from him much since he went on his unsanctioned visit to see Anne.” Although he grumbled like he was annoyed, Y/N knew deep down Sebastian was a little pleased that his best friend and sister had finally started to court a few months ago. Apparently watching Ominis pretend he hadn’t been in love with her since they were children was sickening to say the least. 

Y/N was relieved when Anne reached out to Sebastian at the beginning of their final year at Hogwarts and extended an olive branch. She watched as Sebastian had read the initial letter, a wide smile on his face and unshed tears in his eyes before he brandished the piece of parchment at her excitedly. The twins weren’t as close as they used to be, but they were slowly mending the bridge that had burned down with their Uncle’s untimely death. 

“Where do you keep going? What are you thinking about?” Sebastian asked her. His hand came out to smooth the crease in between her eyes, lingering for a moment before he pulled away. 

“You.”

“Oh really?” he arched an eyebrow, a sly smile falling on his lips. “Is this where you finally admit I’m the most handsome student at Hogwarts?”

“I thought you had three years worth of self-imposed trophies to say just that.”

“Yes, but none of those mean anything without your agreement.” Something danced behind Sebastian’s eyes, a look Y/N couldn’t quite decipher. She was used to his charming nature and the confidence he seemed to exude, but every so often he said something and paired it with a look that was different. He looked…uncertain? Hopeful, maybe. 

“I didn’t realise my opinions held so much weight for you.” 

“And here I thought it was obvious that I hold you in the highest regard.” The air around them changed. Y/N couldn’t pinpoint it exactly - it wasn’t tense, but she felt a palpable shift in energy. She looked away from him and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that she felt rise to her cheeks as she walked into the Great Hall and made her way to the Slytherin table. She found Poppy seated with Imelda, heads bent together as they chatted quietly. They looked up as Sebastian and Y/N sat down, and a downright devilish grin was plastered on Imelda’s face. 

“The rumours about what you can smell in Amortentia and refused to share in class are already circling.”

“Don’t start,” Y/N groaned as Sebastian filled her plate with food. 

“The majority seem to think you can smell something that relates to Sebastian or Ominis,” Poppy added.

“Ominis?” Sebastian stopped filling Y/N’s glass with pumpkin juice, his tone incredulous. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

“How would you know?” Imelda shot at him. “Has Y/N told you what she could smell?”

“This whole conversation is ridiculous,” Y/N cut in, rolling her eyes. She grabbed the large bowl of mashed potatoes and spooned some onto Sebastian’s plate. 

“It’s not that bad, Y/N,” Poppy gave her a reassuring smile. “I think it’s sweet. What you can actually smell, that is.” Y/N paused, the piece of chicken intended for Sebastian’s plate wobbling precariously on the serving spoon.

“How do you know what she can smell?” Sebastian looked up at her sharply, though there was no malice in his voice.

“Imelda told me.”

“Imelda,” Y/N hissed at the girl across the table from her at the same time Sebastian gave her a reproachful look. 

“You told Imelda?”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Y/N protested. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She could hear a few of her classmates around them mutter about her, all supplying options for what she could smell in the love potion. “I think I’m going to grab something from the kitchens instead,” Y/N stood and quickly made her way out of the hall before any of them could follow her. The moment Y/N was out of earshot Imelda leant across the table to hit Sebastian across the back of his head.

“Ow,” he rubbed his head and gave the raven-haired girl a disapproving glare, “what was that for?”

“You’re an absolute idiot, Sebastian Sallow.”

“Imelda…” Poppy nudged the girl gently before offering Sebastian a sympathetic smile. “What she means is - ”

“Oh, I have no doubt she meant it.” Later Sebastian would vehemently deny to anyone that he was pouting like a scolded child after being accosted by Imelda Reyes, but at that current moment all he could do was sulk as he pushed some peas around his plate. 

“I did,” Imelda offered him a saccharine smile and shrugged unapologetically at Poppy, who looked disappointed at the pair. “If you don’t go after what you want, Sallow, others are going to take it from you.”

“Y/N isn’t some belonging that people can just have, least of all me. She’s a person with her own thoughts and feelings.”

“Who said I was talking about Y/N?” Sebastian’s head shot up to meet Imelda’s self-satisfied smirk and let out a low groan. “My point is,” she continued as he (rather dramatically, Imelda thought) lay his head down to rest on the table, “you’re in Slytherin. We’re ambitious to a fault, and when we know what we want we strive to achieve and obtain it. What’s stopping you from going after Y/N?”

“We’re just friends.” The lie Sebastian muttered on a daily basis felt thin to even his ears, and clearly neither Imelda or Poppy was impressed either. 

“Why could you smell her in the Amortentia then?” Poppy asked.

“How did you know I - oh. I’m impressed, Sweeting. That was very Slytherin of you,” Sebastian laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “What would you both have me say then? Y/N I’ve been in love with you since fifth year when we fought a troll together in Hogsmeade?” he asked rhetorically. If his face wasn’t red with embarrassment before, it was now as the words slipped out of his mouth. “I don’t - I mean, I do? I think. I didn’t mean - ” His stammers were interrupted by Poppy’s quiet laugh. 

“Oh Sebastian, you don’t need a pair of working eyes to know that you’re in love with Y/N Y/L/N. I think the only person oblivious to your feelings is Y/N herself.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin our friendship?” he asked quietly. The girls shared a look, and if Sebastian would have looked at either of them he would have noticed a silent conversation happening between the pair.

“Okay, look. I told Y/N I wasn’t going to tell you this, but you’re behaving like a lovesick second year and it’s making me sick,” Imelda flicked a pea at Sebastian in disdain. “Now, I can’t confirm it, but I strongly suspect that her Amortentia did smell of you.” Sebastian gave her a disbelieving look and sent the pea back across the table at her. “I agree that it lacks proof, but I do happen to know for a fact that she does have feelings for you. She told me herself.”

“She what?” That caught Sebastian’s attention, and that of a few people around them as well. Imelda shot them all a glare and they quickly turned back to their own conversations.

“If you tell her I told you I will hunt you down like the animal you are and use you as target practice for the beaters. I know where you sleep, Sallow.”

“She…” Sebastian was at a loss for words as he looked at Poppy for confirmation, who nodded uncertainly in agreement. “I need to go speak to her,” he muttered, more to himself than the girls in front of him. He continued to murmur quietly to himself as he hauled himself up and out of the Great Hall, his expression wavering between surprise and bliss as he left.

“When did Y/N tell you she liked Sebastian?” Poppy asked once he had left.

“Oh, she didn’t. But I think we can both agree neither of them was going to do anything without a nudge, don’t you? Could you pass the pumpkin juice?”

*

Y/N let out a quiet sigh as she snuck back into the Slytherin Common Room. It was nearing midnight, and although she wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed she trudged through the silent room instead to sit and wait for Sebastian by the fireplace. After leaving the Great Hall, Y/N had trekked her way up to the Room of Requirement to spend some time taking care of the various magical beasts in her vivarium. The animals couldn’t pester her like people did, asking her questions she didn’t want to answer, and worst, ones she didn’t have the answers to. She couldn’t understand why everyone was pushing their way into her business; why did it matter what (or who, she thought dryly) she could smell in the Amortentia? So what if she could smell Sebastian, and who was Imelda freaking Reyes to tell her she had feelings for her best friend.

Well, Y/N chewed on her lower lip as she stared into the dying embers, he was rather handsome. Something he would take great satisfaction in if she admitted it out loud. And she supposed, if she was really thinking about it, he was quite funny, and charming, and smart, and possibly the kindest person she knew, and - oh Merlin, she had feelings for Sebastian Sallow. 

He was her best friend, and hadn’t her aunt always told her those made for the best life partners? Not someone who you just existed with, but someone who knew you, knew every part of you, and would still stand by you. Not that she was thinking about spending the rest of her life with him. Y/N felt a blush rise to her cheeks as an unwarranted image of her in a white dress and Sebastian looking absolutely striking in a suit came to mind. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” A low voice startled her, and Y/N pressed a hand to her chest as she took note of Sebastian sitting in the armchair next to her. He bit his lip in amusement at her shock, but was smart enough to keep his comments to himself.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough to watch you groan to yourself twice and turn the most enticing shade of pink,” he teased. “Where do you keep going today?”he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?” Sebastian offered. Yes, Y/N thought to herself, you can start by bathing in bubotuber pus.

“I’ll be fine, Sebastian. There’s no need to fret.”

“You battle trolls for fun, I think there is some need to fret.”

“You’ve battled more than one troll with me, too.”

“Ah, but there’s the obvious difference. You don’t worry for me the same way.”

“You can’t mean that,” Y/N sat upright in her chair, a withering glare on her features. “Of course I worry about you, you idiot.”

“Why is everyone calling me an idiot tonight?”

“Clearly it’s warranted,” Y/N sniffed in annoyance and sank back down into her seat. How dare he say she didn’t worry for him, all she’s done for the past two years was worry about him.

Sebastian could tell he had said the wrong thing. He knew - of course he knew - that she worried and cared for him. No one else would have witnessed and experienced everything they had together in their fifth year and still stood by him afterwards. It was never a question to Y/N whether he needed forgiving. Even Ominis, who had been with him since before he could remember, needed a while to come back around and speak to Sebastian again, but she didn’t. Granted, it had taken a couple of weeks as things had happened in quick succession, from the death of his uncle, to fighting Harlow, then Rookwood, to finally defeating Ranrok; but there Y/N was, sitting next to him at Professor Fig’s memorial, silent tears running down her face as she clutched his hand tightly for comfort. 

“I apologise,” he reached out to take her hand. “It seems I’m not quite done putting my foot in my mouth whenever you’re around.”

“Yes, it seems so.” Her words were flat, but she squeezed his hand back gently to let him know all was forgiven. Sebastian had the overwhelming urge to take Y/N into his arms and never let go, but also reprimand her at the same time. She was always the first to call him out when he was being a prat - which, he admitted to himself, happened more often than not - but she always forgave him for it moments later.

He took a moment to watch as she stared into the flames once more. His eyes roamed over her features, from her brilliant eyes, down the slope of her nose and rested on her mouth. Y/N could give any Ravenclaw a run for their money with the amount of wit she fired, and even though Sebastian was often on the receiving end, he loved it. He loved the way she rolled her eyes at him when she shot a particularly sarcastic or dry comment his way; he loved when she teased him and made him question his sanity and oh, he adored it when she would shoot him a rare, flirtatious comment.

He loved her.

The thought took his breath from him. He had said it out loud in the Great Hall earlier, but it was unintentional, and he wasn’t quite sure of it then, but now…now he was sure. He was in love with her. Every part. He wanted to share every day, every night, every moment with her. 

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied without thinking. He watched as a faint blush dusted Y/N’s cheeks and his heart stuttered in his chest. How could he ever doubt how he felt for her? “What did you smell in the Amortentia?” Sebastian asked, a sudden surge of confidence hitting him.

“Sebastian,” Y/N sighed heavily, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Y/N turned to look at him, a pleading look on her face. She was tired, so tired, at having to pretend she wasn’t irrevocably head over heels for the man next to her. She feared if he asked her any more questions he would see straight through her, and then their friendship would be ruined and he would want nothing more to do with her. No, the logical part of her brain replied, Sebastian is too nice for that. Instead he would let her down gently, with the soft tone one would reserve for an injured animal or a sick child.

“I could smell you,” he blurted out. Y/N blinked once, not quite sure she had heard him properly, before looking over at him slowly. “Your perfume, to be more specific. And the smell of rain, from the night we danced out in it. Also those strawberry tarts you love to eat at breakfast.” He stood from his seat before sinking to his feet so he could kneel in front of her on the stone floor. “All I could smell was you.”

“Sebastian…”

“What did you smell?” he asked her again, a hint of desperation in his eyes. She thought there was nothing more between them but friendship, that he could never look at her the way she wanted him t, but the look in his eyes right now…Merlin, how could she ever think that? Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked down at him and watched as his hands came to rest on her knees gently. She could feel the heat of his skin through the material of her trousers and all she could think of was more. She wanted more. “Darling? I’m putting my heart on the line here.”

“It was you,” she whispered after a moment, afraid to say it much louder. “You, when we danced in the rain. You, when you showed me the clearing full of wildflowers. Just…you. It was all you, Sebastian.” She met his gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s always been you, I just didn’t realise it until lately.”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one,” he teased lightly. He raised his hand to wipe away a stray tear, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” Y/N let out a sound that was between a sob and a chuckle and slid down so she was kneeling on the floor with Sebastian. “I think I was too scared to tell you before, so I pretended like it didn’t exist. These feelings have been bottled up for so long, only to be let out now…” she wiped away her own tears this time and offered him a rueful smile. 

“Oh darling,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “it seems we’ve both been a little slow, hm? How could you not see I’m hopelessly head over heels for you?” He rested his forehead on hers, watching with slight satisfaction as her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation and longing. “You have been, and always will be, my one and only.”

“You’re going to make me cry again,” Y/N protested weakly. Sebastian chuckled quietly and brushed a stray hair from her eyes. He watched as the wheels turned in her head, and knew she was deep in thought when she started to chew on her lower lip thoughtfully. 

“Come back to me, what are you thinking?”

“It’s highly improper.”

“My favourite,” he smiled crookedly and ran his thumb across her lower lip. “Tell me.” Instead,  after a brief moment of hesitation, Y/N closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his gently. She pulled away all too soon for Sebastian’s liking, her eyes darting across his face for any reaction he disapproved of - or worst, didn’t enjoy - their chaste kiss. He pulled her back in slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away should she choose to do so, and pressed his lips back to her sweetly. 

From the other end of the Common Room, Imelda watched quietly as the couple kissed each other with stomach-churning sweetness, and as she turned to leave she made a mental note to boast to Poppy first thing in the morning that she was right yet again. 

[percyjavksongf]

𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!.•❀

➤𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤!𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➤𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐’𝟖𝟖𝟓

➤𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

“𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫“ 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 “𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮“ 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝,

“𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫“

𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜

Somewhere in camp, Percy was probably off teaching younger campers how to properly wield a sword, and you? Well your contribution to Camp Half-Blood was keeping your pouting face hidden in a feather filled pillow.

You thought of dragging your tired legs off the bed and going out, doing something productive with your last few days at camp before the summer was up, but then you’d feel sick at the thought off speeding up your day by doing something productive, so you’d just sigh and roll over in your bed. Your internal fight to leave bed lasted for an hour or so before you came to the conclusion that at least sitting up in bed would be better then slowly suffocating in your bed sheets, so you did just that.

You groaned at the pop your back made when you finally pulled yourself up, gods you really needed to get out of this bed. Although you understand it probably makes a hell of a lot of more sense to actually achieve something on this crisp summer day, like run through the strawberry fields with Selina nipping at your heals, squealing with happiness as the sun beats down unforgivingly against your sweating skin. Or maybe you’d be sneaking around with Connor, he always knew how to put an honest smile of your face, even if others found him annoying, you believed he had a hidden sweetness to him that he covered up with stupid jokes and wild pranks.

You flipped through your thoughts for awhile, humming the familiar tune that drifted through the air of your mother’s cabin, Demeter, admiring the wildflowers that seemed to almost dance along with the tune. A knock at your Cabin door had you reluctantly removing your eyes from the ballet of the wildflowers and staring curiously at the door, you weren’t expecting anyone so you almost considered ignore the noise, that was until they started knocking furiously on the door and forcing you up from your comfortable position. You walked over to the door quickly in hopes to stop the awful banging that disturbed the plants and swung the door open.

“you wanna get drunk?”

Pollux.

You send him a false look of annoyance and let your eyes travel down to the pitcher of grape flavoured cool aid in his purple stained hands, he must’ve just made it.

“drunk?” you questioned incredulously, “have you finally done it? Turned water into wine! Oh you’re a little Jesus in the making!” you cried out dramatically and reach for the pitcher. Pollux, picking up on your tease right away quickly moved to hold the pitcher away from you

“ha ha, very funny. I’m obviously still working on completing that miracle, but in the mean time we could go get a sugar rush” Pollux peered behind you, raising a brow at your obviously recently occupied bed “or are you too busy?” you rolled your eyes and put a hand to Pollux’s chest, pushing him the rest of the way out of your cabin’s front door and turning to shut it behind you. You supposed it wouldn’t be much harm to spend an hour out in the fresh air.

An hour turned into five and the sun was starting to set on yours and Pollux’s makeshift dining area, the once filled pitcher was now discarded, empty and resting on it’s side. Pollux and you had moved to rest against a rough tree and people watch, making comments on possible up and coming romances in the camp.

“you know I’ve heard a few rumours about you” Pollux stated matter of factly and you gasped, turning to face him in an instant. “you have to tell me”

“no I don’t” Pollux grinned, obviously enjoying the power he had over the topic

“yes you do, you can’t bring it up and then not tell me” you state seriously, causing Pollux to grin wider “actually I just heard from the department of hidden information and yep, uh huh, ok yeah I’ll let them know. No, I don’t have to tell you” you stared unimpressed at the skit Pollux played out for you of him answering the phone to deny your request, you looked away from him and stared off at the sunset, “thats fine smart ass, I’ll just have to let Mr D know about the time you actually got drunk, and how it wasn’t done by any miracle but more so by a lie his devious son managed to get away with”

“It’s about you and Percy”

A laugh burst out of your chest at how quickly he confessed, and you failed to notice boy’s stare burning into your skin, and the slight blush forming on his face. You laughter had died down and you finally registered his rushed words.

“Percy and I? What about us” you questioned curiously. Percy and you had been joined at the hip since you first came to Camp Half-blood, both having a peculiar love for blue food and the ability to get yourselves into all sorts of trouble. You’d say you became close friends after the fight of Manhattan, you had taken a nasty blow to the head that left you unconscious for a couple of days, when you had finally awoken in the camp infirmary the first thing you noticed besides the pounding in between your ears, was the exhausted face of Percy Jackson sitting in the chair beside your bed, his restless hands fiddling with your bed sheets. Since that day Percy almost seemed to make a habit out of making sure to see you every single day. The thought snapped you back to the present, surprised you hadn’t already realised it, you hadn’t seen Percy today.

“just something about you two spending a lot more time together, thats all. You know how people around here gossip over nothing” you frowned at the bitter tone of his voice and looked back towards the camp, where was Percy?

“have you seen Percy today?” you replied, forgetting the topic of your conversation mere seconds earlier. You tried to ignore the small frown that appeared on Pollux’s mouth at the mention of Percy. Over the past few months you had noticed Pollux’s opinion of Percy shift every so slightly, he used to be overjoyed by the mention of Percy but now it seemed to be the worst thing you could talk about with him, and you weren’t really sure why.

“probably somewhere showing off his sword fighting or something” Pollux grumbled and leaned back on his hands “never mind him, lets just lounge in the sun and pretend we had a productive day”

“let us live as flowers, wild and beautiful and drenched in the sun” you grin and look over to Pollux, knowing the quote will earn you an eye roll

“yeah ok flower power, just change the last part to drenched in wine and I’ll accept it” an eye roll or a dumb comment.

Your gaze returned to the camp once more and to your surprise you spot Percy only a few feet away from you, walking over at a comfortable pace. That was always something you enjoyed about Percy, he always seemed so laid back. You let a smile bloom over your face and lifted you hand up to block out the dying sun,

“hello miss wild and beautiful and drenched in the sun” the shit eating grin that graced Percy’s features maked your heart flutter,

“you’re here to eavesdrop I see” you quickly take note of the new freckles that decorate his sun kissed complexion, and the gentle stream of red that’s flowing on his upper arm that makes you frown and get to your feet, at his side in an instant “Percy your arm-”

“it’s fine, really. Just comes with the job of teaching twelve year olds how to use a sword” you carefully brush your thumb over the skin just beside the cut, it was just a nick but still was un welcomed by you none the less.

You hummed and removed your hand from his skin, it almost felt like your palm was burning as it drifted away from Percy, itching for the contact once again. A forced cough from behind you steals your attention, Pollux had gathered his pitcher and gave you a tight lipped smile, “I’ll leave you to it, see you around” you gave him a smile wave and thanked him again for the cool aid, you turned away from his retreating form you’re met with another unimpressed look.

“you better hope the wind doesn’t change, Perseus”

Percy’s burnt nose wrinkles from the name, only his mother calls him by his real name.

“what have I done to deserve a full name?” he scoffed

“give me that look” you replied matter of factly

Percy’s frown deepened for a moment before springing back up into a soft smile, the wind had picked up and you watched as his hand reached forward to tuck away a strand of your hair that was moving lazily in the breeze. You stared up at Percy through your lashes, uncaring of the heat that bloomed on your face. Percy knew the effect he had on you anyways.

“Pollux doesn’t like me” Percy said, moving his hand to rest against your cheek, his calloused thumb drawing soft circles on your skin. Your eyes scan your surroundings, hoping to the gods that no one was around to disturb your moment of piece, where the cloak fell off and left Percy’s love for you proudly displayed. Percy’s other hand playfully pinched the exposed skin on your waist and your eyes fixed to his once more. “don’t worry about them, let them see us”

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally at that, Percy and you had decided to keep your budding romance to yourselves when it first began, when the war had just ended and you felt it was best to leave that detail out, more focused on the loss of your fellow campers and dealing with that grief. But as the months went on you had still stayed the same, secret meetings after the camp fire had died down, sneaking into the lake with the help of the Percy’s air bubbles, only the fish that inhabited there knew of your love for each other. Sometimes during a particularly serious game of capture the flag, one where you and Percy were on different teams, he would manage to sneak up on you a steal a quick kiss before running off with a laugh in attempts to through you off your game. You’d always return the kiss later after your team won.

“why do you think Pollux doesn’t like you?” you questioned

“because he likes you” Percy replied much to your surprise “it’s all anyone at camp can talk about these days, they swear he’s going to ask you out any day now” it’s hard to miss the slight grumble in his voice as he goes on about how Pollux has been flirting with you for months, but you honestly hadn’t picked up on it. Right now you were more focused on the way Percy’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the mention of Pollux trying to woo you. You’d had reached the wooded area of camp and reached for Percy’s hand then, your fingers intertwined and you positioned yourself in front of him, now walking backwards to face him as you spoke. Percy seemed to be more focused on guiding you away from any trees unknown to you.

“I don’t think he dislikes you, Percy. He’s never said anything bad about you” you said, Percy hands moved to your hips to side step you away from a fallen branch.

“he’s never said bad about me to you, probably” Percy said

“probably, see it’s not definite” you attempted to reason, any other words leaving your mind in a heartbeat when you feel the scratchy bark of a tree pressed against your back. You eyes stayed glued to Percy’s as he stepped closer to you, his hands drifting up to your waist. You looked around then to see if any campers, or gods forbid, Mr D, were taking a stroll through the woods at this time. Percy’s fingers resting on your jaw beckoned your attention back to him “always looking around” he spoke lowly, his words for you and you alone.

“are you sure you want to make this known?” you’re unsure why you whispered it, there was no one around anyways. But you still felt nervous, it only took one person to see before the news would spread like wildfire, and you would be bombarded with invasive questions and ‘how could you not tell me!’ from your siblings. Too be honest you kind of liked being a little secret, knowing you had Percy all to yourself. But you knew how much better it would be to not have to sneak around everywhere, the teasing would die down eventually and your relationship would be common knowledge.

“I think we’ve hidden this away for way to long, I want everyone to know you’re my girl”

you can’t contain the smile that his words bring you, his girl.

“we’ll only if you’re ok with that, of course” he followed up with quickly

“yeah I think it’s about time I explain to Miranda why I keep waking her up at three in the morning to let me in through the window” you laughed, imagining the look on her face when you finally spill the beans to her, she’s undoubtedly by excited by the news, but probably also scold you for keeping it from her for so long.

The sun’s golden rays poured down through the dancing leaves that dressed the trees and sunk into your skin, you watched as Percy’s eyes almost seemed to glow in the light, he was summer’s child.

You relaxed against the tree and pulled Percy closer to you, and for a moment you let the world consist of just the two of you. You never thought it ever would, even though the two of you had been friends since the age of twelve there was never a time where you could just breathe together. there was always a quest, or a battle, or a four thousand year old girl who Percy vanished with for two weeks, that one had caused a raft between you for a few weeks.

But now you simply exist together, and it makes everything worth it.

You brought a hand up to rest against his upper arm, revelling in the heat that was coming of his dirt covered skin, you made a mental note to tease him about it later and send him off to the showers. Your hand continued it travels upwards and you finally landed in the space between his shoulder and his neck, running a thumb against the underside of his jaw.

“you in love with me or something?” Percy teased, drawing a hum from you in response

“I might just be, Jackson” you grinned, before letting out a gasp as Percy dipped his head quickly and kissed you. It started off heavy and warmed you up like nothing else, it slowed down into soft pecks before Percy drew away, not without pressing on last kiss to your redden lips.

“I might just love you too” Percy breathes out, dipping back down again to press his lips to the side of your mouth, “my sweet girl” he mumbled against your lips finally before pressing one last kiss to them.

“Percy” you whispered, putting a hand against his chest to create some distance as you flushed at the realisation of how exposed the two of you were. Percy took a step back with a smug grin, his hands never leaving you.

“you are though” Percy continues, causing you shove against him gently in protest “my sweet girl, or do you prefer my girl, cus you know both statements are true-”

“shut up” you whine out in embarrassment, he was so shameless. Percy laughed at your protest and took your hand in his, pulling you towards the rows of cabins.

“what’re we doing?” you said, letting him lead you away from the shade of the trees, Percy only smiled at you before continuing ahead

“we’re going to hang out with the rest of the campers, maybe your friend Pollux will be there”

you give him a deadpan look at the mention of Pollux, still wondering how a man like Percy could be jealous of your friendship with Pollux, it was obvious you only had eyes for him.

“and why are you so eager to get us there?” you questioned curiously

“cus I want them all to see that you’re my girl” he stated back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips to press a quick kiss against. You sighed and made a show of dramatically rolling your eyes.

I guess he was sticking to that term, his girl.

...

a/n: helloooo, wrote this in a couple of hours so it's rushed like all of my works <3 my first non christmas inspired percy work so i hope yous like it!!!

[fleshdyke]

I saw a deer rotting away on the side of the road, ribcage gaping open, sternum shattered, sagging leathery skin shedding coarse hair as decomposition sets in. Eyes and entrails long since pecked out by crows and vultures, the doe lay blind and empty, her cranium chewed open and cleaned out by reverent coyotes. Crawling with maggots and worms, she writhes.

Wildflowers bloomed tall around her, cushioning her corpse in a bed of milkweed and aster, wild lily and strawberry bursting through her drying skin and out through the cavernous hole in her body. Wasps and horseflies drink the nectar flavoured by her body, dripping sweet onto her ribcage.

A violent death unto peaceful sleep, bones crushed like brittle eggshell by steel alloy, whiplash and internal hemorrhaging as she stumbles forward and collapses into the cold ditch by the asphalt, gasping and twitching as her lungs filled with blood, shards of her ribcage puncturing her lungs, struggling to take a full breath as spots grew larger in her vision. Twin headlights barreled on, uninterrupted and uncaring as she lay dying in the ditch, the taillights of the departing vehicle bathing her in red light as it leaves. There are no other cars in the road.

Scavengers bowed their heads to her memory as they filled their stomachs with her body, gorging themselves on cold offal, worshipful as they licked congealed blood off the ground. A necessary sacrifice to the good of the many; her agony sustains them. They don't know anything else. She sleeps, quiet and alone, in the ditch by the road, as she decomposes. Her eyes, plucked from their sockets by hungry birds to be fed to their hungry chicks, no longer saw; she slept in peaceful darkness.

I wondered what she dreamed about. I wondered if she could still see, in her mind's eye, the life she dreamed of. I wondered if all she could see anymore was the wriggling of maggots in her skull.

I wondered if the deer on the side of the road left behind a herd, maybe a fawn, waiting patiently, nestled in tall grasses, for its mother to return. I wondered if it, too, had fallen prey to the great metal maw of a passing vehicle as it, hungry and cold, searched for its mother. I hoped not, but I know better; deer don't often practice crèches.

I felt kinship with her, in a way, a deer left for dead next to the country highway, carved out empty and left gaping. I saw myself in her in the way she died alone, ignored, rotting from the inside out as cars passed by, the way she was vulnerable, defenseless; she had no way to defend herself against her fate. The scales were tipped against her, the battle lost as soon as she took her first step onto cracked asphalt, doomed beyond her own comprehension and her killer's capacity to care. She had no antlers to defend herself. She didn't stand a chance.

A faceless figure in a nondescript truck, anonymous in the atrocity of death, with no witnesses and no guilt for what they had done. Perhaps I'd already passed them on the street. Perhaps I'd already wished them a good morning. Perhaps I'd done the same with others.

It was almost comforting, in a way, to see such a visceral and grotesque representation of myself, flayed open snd hollowed out and left to rot. It reminded me there were others like me, even if they were roadkilled deer. In the aftermath of catastrophe, I, too, lay broken and gasping, immobile as I watched the world pass me by, no one stopping to notice my agony. I supposed it wasn't quite as obvious as that of a deer, trembling and bleeding from the mouth, branded hot in the shape of a car's front grill. It was confusing, still. It certainly felt more than obvious.

I dreamed of coyote teeth tearing me apart, pulling out my organs as I watched, passive, of vultures picking at my skin, grunting in veneration as they ate me to the bone. I dreamed of crows eating the scraps left behind, pecking at my face and mouth, pulling out my eyes and tongue, rendering me blind and mute. I didn't mind; I hardly had use for them anyways. I dreamed of dandelion blooms crowding my airways, airborne seeds filling my lungs until I choked, and growing from my body again.

I dreamed of love, of prostration and black birds bowed in supplication, owing me their lives, surviving at the price of mine. I dreamed of love, of sickly sweet devotion, like the smell of decay. I dreamed of love, of poisonous butterflies drinking down the nectar of my body's wildflowers, of dangerous beauty. In my dream, I watched the jays snap up those sweet butterflies, bright wings crunching and shredding within the predator's beak, only for the eaten nymph to reappear as its bitter poison burns the jay's oesophagus, vomiting up the offensive prey. The butterfly is not saved. The butterfly is still dead, half-digested and broken in a small puddle of the bird's mucous, but the jay learns; the butterfly's death prevents others.

I dreamed of love, like the coyote and the badger that found my corpse one night, forty million years of evolution between the two, but perfect teamwork nonetheless. The two arrived together and left together after they'd had their fill of my lungs and heart. I wished them well on their journey and waited for the next scavenger to find me.

I hoped the deer on the side of the road found the same peace in death as I had. I hoped she found her closure in the scavengers who worshipped her. I hoped the faceless figure in that nondescript truck faced their retribution and I hoped the faceless figure in my hazy memories faced the Old Testament judgement I so wished.

As I accepted the deer into myself, let the shape of her rotting body brand itself on my mind (reminiscent, almost, of the brand of a car's front grill on her flank), I felt her dreams assimilate with my own. I felt, suddenly, the desire to walk along country highways in the dark, the desire to know what waits on the other side of the road, the desperation so strong that I couldn't stand to wait for the rumbling beast to pass. I felt the awe of staring into blinding light, larger than me and near incomprehensible. I understood why deer stopped in the middle of the road. I'm sure anyone else would, too. The first contact of the car's front grill to her (my) body felt something like love, like the embrace of the only one who could stand to have me.

I thought about the crows that picked off the smaller pieces of flesh missed by the larger scavengers. I thought about the sweet adoration between two black birds as they passed my eyeball to their mate, the pure devotion between them as they preened one another, beaks coated in congealed blood. Their love is a living thing, a separate entity, powerful and writhing. It occupies the crows entirely, not unlike parasitism. Their chicks will grow from my scavenged flesh, insatiable, fledging for the first time above my drying skeleton. To fly had always been a dream of mine, and now it is actualized by those young black birds, fulfilled as they hop unsteadily from branch to branch, their parents watching over them protectively. How lucky I am to witness this. How lucky I am to learn, firsthand, the depth of that love, the endlessness of life, how it begins again, and again, and again.

[asbealthgn]

wrote this goofy thing as an expansion of this post

It’s very surprising when the door to Eddie’s trailer opens and Eddie is standing there with flowers.

It’s even more surprising when he says, “Happy one month!” with a big grin.

Steve looks back and forth between Eddie and the flowers—wildflowers by the look of them, probably picked around the edges of the trailer park. “Uh, one month of what?”

Eddie gives him an uncertain smile like he’s not sure if Steve’s being serious or not. “Of our relationship,” he says, the last syllable tilting up almost like a question.

Huh. Kind of weird, but at the start of summer Steve and Robin had an ice cream party to celebrate the year anniversary of when they started at Scoops together. So it’s not like this is completely unheard of. Except—

“You and I have been friends for longer than a month,” Steve says, “It’s been like—” he tries to count the months since spring break in his head “—at least four? Unless you don’t count when you were unconscious in the hospital, but that was only a couple weeks, so—”

“I mean one month of our relationship,” Eddie says, putting emphasis on the word. And now his eyebrows are drawn together. Face concerned. And Steve is clearly missing something here.

Did something significant happen a month ago? Some moment where they moved from friends to best friends or something? It was probably about a month or so ago the first time Steve spent the night at Eddie’s trailer, but that wasn’t a huge deal. Steve has spent the night at the Byers’ house before and it’s not like he and Jonathan are breaking out the balloons to commemorate it. 

Steve feels guilty, because clearly there’s something that Eddie thinks he should know that he doesn’t. He doesn’t like this nervous look on Eddie’s face. Steve tries to think like Nancy, tries to put the clues together. But he’s not Nancy. So he’s lost. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” Steve says, “I don’t get what you mean.”

Eddie deflates.

“I know we haven’t necessarily defined it.” His voice is wavering, eyes getting watery. Shit shit shit, what did Steve do? This is so completely out of nowhere and Steve doesn’t know how to fix it. “But I didn’t realize it was actually that insignificant to you.”

Steve shoots his arm out to stop Eddie from closing the door on him. He needs to figure out what’s going on so he can make it right, and that’s not gonna happen if Eddie shuts him out. “Eds, seriously, you’re gonna have to fill me in,” he says, “‘Cause I honestly don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Seriously?” Eddie asks, anger over taking the sadness in his voice, “You’re gonna act like you don’t know?”

“I don’t!” Steve nearly shouts, desperate. “Please, man, I’m not trying to piss you off here. Whatever it is, I wanna make it right. You just have to tell me what you mean.”

“You and I,” Eddie says. Looking at him like it should be obvious. When it’s so, so not. It makes Steve want to scream. “We’re—I thought we were together.”

“Together? Like…together how?”

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie look this pissed off. “Use your goddamned brain, Harrington,” he spits, “Like together.”

Oh. Okay. That’s…something. It’s not that Steve would necessarily be opposed, or even that he hasn’t thought of it. It’s just not true. They’re not together. And he’s not sure why Eddie thinks they are. Yeah, they’re close, but it’s not like they’re closer than Steve and Robin. It’s not like they’re closer than Steve was to Tommy back in the day. He and Eddie haven’t done anything that feels outside the realm of friendship to him. And he definitely didn’t realize that Eddie saw it any differently.

“Um,” Steve says, aware that he’s standing like an idiot on Eddie’s doorstep and needs to answer. “Why?”

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, making as if to close the door again. Steve barely catches it in time. It makes Eddie glare at him. “There’s no way you’re being serious,” he says.

Keeping one hand on the door, Steve throws up the other one in a gesture he stole from Robin. “I really am,” he says, “You know what the kids say. I’m an idiot. You really have to lay things out for me.”

That at least makes Eddie soften a few degrees. “You’re not an idiot, Steve,” he says, “You’re just—oblivious, apparently.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Eddie sighs. “Just come in. We can talk about it.” He steps back and lets Steve come inside. The flowers are still clutched in Eddie’s hand, starting to wilt. Eddie sets them on the table before joining Steve on the couch. 

“A month ago is when you stayed over for the first time,” Eddie says. Steve nods. “And you kissed me.” Steve nods again. Eddie lifts his eyebrows significantly. “You’re not seeing the connection?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, I guess there’s other ways you could construe that,” he says, “But I thought it was, like, a friend kiss. A goodnight kiss.”

“A friend kiss,” Eddie says flatly. “You kiss a lot of your friends?”

“Sure,” Steve says, “Well, Robin prefers forehead kisses and Jonathan’s more of a hug guy, but I used to kiss Tommy and Carol all the time.”

Disbelief is the main emotion on Eddie’s face. And a whole lot of other ones that Steve can’t quite parse out. “So—everything we’ve done,” Eddie says, slowly, like he’s trying to come to terms with it. “It’s all just…been normal friend shit to you?”

Steve thinks back over the last month, trying to think if anything stands out in his head as non-platonic. Maybe there’s been a time or two when he was kissing Eddie or cuddling up to him in bed or sitting on his lap during D&D where Steve’s felt a sort of stirring deep in his belly. But he figured that was one-sided. His body’s reaction to whatever was happening and not a manifestation of, like, feelings or something. After all, the same thing used to happen with Tommy when they’d do similar stuff. And clearly they were just friends.

After a full twenty seconds of Steve not answering, Eddie drops his head in his hands. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he lifts his head. “This—you—the other day. You slept over. We made out. You—you took my fucking shirt off, Steve.”

Yeah, that did happen. And Steve doesn’t have a great explanation for it. “I don’t know,” he says, “It was the heat of the moment or whatever.”

“The heat of the moment,” Eddie repeats, and Steve can’t tell if he’s on the verge of tears or the verge of laughing. Eddie puts his arm on the back of the couch and leans toward Steve. “Can you honestly say that you’re not attracted to me at all?”

Annoyingly, Steve can feel his face start to heat. “I never said that,” he mutters.

For the first time, Eddie looks triumphant. “So you are attracted to me?”

“Yeah, man,” Steve says, squirming uncomfortably. Of course he’s attracted to Eddie. What’s not to be attracted to? He’s smart, funny, hot, good with the kids, good on the guitar, good at kissing. Helped save the world. “You’re, like, it for me. I definitely think about you that way. I just didn’t think you thought about me that way.”

Eddie laughs, the sound containing more disbelief than humor, but still overall a good thing. “I can’t believe the guy who’s been sharing my bed for the past month didn’t think I was into him.”

“Hey, you’re not the only person whose bed I’ve shared.” Shit, that was a bad way to put it. “Platonically.”

Shaking his head, Eddie laughs again. “Clearly, your idea of platonic does not line up with mine,” he says. “But you mean it? You’re into me?”

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve says, “I’m into you.”

“So, does that mean you’d want to be my boyfriend?”

“Apparently I already have been for the past month,” Steve says, grinning.

Eddie grins back. “Doesn’t count if you didn’t know.”

“Then we can count from today,” Steve says, “Starting now, I’m your boyfriend.”

He hasn’t finished saying the last word before Eddie is surging forward and taking Steve’s face in his hands. He shifts onto Steve’s lap, kissing him deeply. 

And it doesn’t feel platonic at all.

[billysgun]

chasing

billy the kid x pregnant!wife!reader |since you got pregnant, billy has been on edge for your well-being, so you decide to toy with him a little|

"hey now, you be careful" he tells you and you turn back, a daring look in your eye as you devilishly smile at him

"bite me, billy!" you call out before taking off on your horse, giggling through the fields as billy quickly chases after you on his horse

you're barely 2 months along, and billy has been guarding you from everything. he's next to you always, touching you always, making sure you're okay, always.

and as a token of your appreciation, you're gonna toy with him.

It's the first morning where you're not throwing up and you decide to finally get back on your horse for the first time in two months, billy protested it heavily, thinking about all the ways you could fall and hurt yourself on the beast.

but after you put your boots and hat on, he knew he couldn't stop you.

"just walk, no runnin'" he mumbled as he had his arms wide as you climbed onto the horse, already prepared to catch you if you fell

"alright, alright...no runnin'"

but as you looked back, hair blowing from the speed, you saw the widest grin on his face as he caught up to you

"if you don't get off the horse-" he called out but you only sped up, laughing as you passed him

"come get me, billy!" you yelled out, and he followed

you saw a clearing in the distance and decided it would be the perfect spot to finally get off and rub it in your husband's face that you can still do things even when you're pregnant

you moved toward it and he did the same, you turned and stuck your tongue out and heard him let out a hearty laugh.

once you made it to the field you slowed to a stop and so did he, before you could step off your horse he ran up to you and picked you up, placing you on the ground and moving your hair out of your face

"you love scaring me, darling" he smiled and you wore a proud grin, he dipped down to kiss you softly as his hands trailed to cradle your tiny growing bump

the wildflowers swarmed you both as the birds chattered and sang in the distance while his lips softly lapped on yours, making you feel so absolutely enveloped with his love.

an: I love you all so much! mwah! <33 thank you for reading! <333

[sincerelyneo]

wildflower | z.cl

“you know you are my favourite fantasy”

💿now playing: wildflower by 5 seconds of summer

❯ summary: Chenle just has to make it through one more round of twister. Then, you and his friends can leave and he can take care of the boner growing in his pants from your limbs grazing over his crotch every turn. Yeah, that’s his plan. Just one more round.

❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader

❯ genre: friends to lovers, smut

❯ words: 4.0k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, light petting, male masturbation, explicit descriptions of chenle's thoughts while he gets off, voyeurism, hand jobs, literally just horny chenle, reader uses she/her pronouns.

"Chenle, left foot, green," Jisung announces.

It's just a game of Twister, Chenle keeps reminding himself as the colourful spinner dictates his next move. So why is he feeling so flustered? He needs to get a grip. Like he said, it's just a fucking game for Christ’s sake, one that families play on holidays. There's no reason for him to be turned on right now, but he is.

"Dude, will you hurry up? I don’t think I can handle Jaemin's ass in my face much longer," Haechan grumbles from his awkward position on the board, head perched to the side to avoid eye contact with the back of Jaemin's jeans.

"Stop pretending you don’t love my ass." 

Chenle feels no sympathy for Haechan; after all, this stupid game was his idea. He's the reason Chenle keeps having to conjure up the most unsexy thoughts imaginable to suppress the growing bulge in his pants.

It all started with a trip to the mall earlier in the day. Chenle had turned his back for just five minutes to go to the bathroom, and when he returned, he found his friends gathered around the ridiculous board game on the shelf. 

"Come on, it'll be fun," Haechan insisted, while Jaemin practically bounced with excitement. 

Chenle thought it was stupid; he's never been any good at Twister. But they all begged and pleaded to buy the game instead of sticking to the original movie night plans Chenle had organised for their traditional Friday night hangouts. And truthfully, Chenle had no intention of playing the game, let alone buying it. That is, until you stepped off the wall you were leaning against to join the conversation.

You strode over to pick up the box Haechan was clutching onto and inspected it. Chenle's gaze was fixed on your fingers as they tapped the package gently. It was surprising how everyone instantly fell silent from the shock of you wanting to get involved in their antics for a change.

 "Come on, Lele, Haechan has a point. It does look fun," you encouraged.

Chenle's attention immediately shifted to your puppy-dog eyes, and he swore they were strong enough to break his willpower. Or maybe it was the way your lips protruded in a practised pout, staring up expectantly at him. Actually, now that he thinks about it, it was definitely the soft and eager "Please," that you uttered that had him heading straight to the counter with the box and his wallet. 

That's what landed him here now. Stupid you and your stupid eyes and your even more stupidly cute smile.

“Chenle did you hear me?!” Jisung waves the spinner in front of his face, “Left foot, green.”

He snaps back to attention, finally shifting his left foot to a green circle. 

“Fucking finally,” Haechan murmurs, “Sung, spin it for me.”

Jisung complies, giving Haechan his next instruction. Haechan begins to twist his body through the gap between Jaemin’s legs – he just needs to stretch a little more to reach the blue target in his vision. But then…

“Ow, what the fuck?!” Jaemin groans, his ass crashing down on the board from Haechan’s manoeuvring between his limbs. 

“That was totally your fault! If you didn’t wriggle your body at the last second I wouldn’t have—”

"Nobody cares, Haechan. You're out. Off the board," Chenle grits through his teeth. He can't stand the arguing; it only prolongs the silly game for him, and he doesn’t want that – he doesn't need that. He just wants to get this all over with.

But as Haechan and Jaemin move away from the board he realises that won’t be so easy because you and him are the last two players standing. Chenle gulps, the realisation hitting him like a truck. He’s the only player left that you can tangle your limbs up with. 

He doesn’t need this – this is what he’s been trying to avoid thinking about all night. You’ve only innocently brushed him this round, nothing overtly explicit. But just seeing you contort and arch alone was enough to trigger a twisted fantasy in his mind. 

Chenle considers forfeiting. Sure, he's a little competitive, but he’d rather lose than pop a boner in front of all his friends while playing the old-school classic game of Twister. He also knows Haechan would complain, insisting that the winner was rigged and therefore there needs to be a rematch. Chenle does not need a rematch.

He just needs to focus. Keep his head in the game for a little while longer. Then, you and his friends can leave. Yeah, that’s the plan. He just needs to breathe. 

Chenle composes himself, hastily waving his finger in Jisung’s direction. “It’s her spin.”

“Y/N, right-hand yellow.”

You’re already reclining, distributing your weight between a palm and a back foot. And you’re just as competitive, so when Jisung issues the instruction, you aim for the dot directly beneath Chenle but still behind him, manoeuvring beneath him for your hand to brush past his thigh before landing on the target.

Chenle almost stumbles at the slight touch, and it makes you raise an eyebrow. Was he ticklish or something? 

“Y/N, that’s cheat–” 

“Oh, so when she touches you, it’s cheating, but when Jaemin wiggles, I get told to get off the board,” Haechan complains. “I see how it is.” 

“Be quiet, Haechan,” Jisung says, and Chenle is thankful for the intervention as he shushes the boy and flicks the spinner with his hand. “Left hand, red.” 

Chenle looks down at the position you’re both in right now. So far, luck had been on his side as he was still on two feet, but you, you were on all fours and very close to him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about looking down to see you pooled at his feet, looking up at him with pretty eyes, but he never imagined it like this.

The fact that this is all happening in front of his friends should be enough to kill his boner, but he’s still turned on. Not only was just the position of you on all fours tantalizing enough to begin with, but your last spin caused arms to cross over one another, pushing your breasts together. 

Damn. 

Chenle bites the bullet and goes for it, his body fully covering yours as he plants his right hand in front of him. In theory, his plan sounded like a good idea; if he places his right hand on the red dot behind you, he can just hover over you and then he won’t have to see you looking up at him with those pretty tits, he so desperately wants to fuck, on display. 

But that was all in theory, because Chenle may have overlooked one massive fatal flaw. The new position places his crotch right in front of your face, and Chenle hadn’t even registered that until he could feel your hot breath against the fabric of his sweatpants. 

This is not good.

Chenle can’t help but panic, he knows being like this, his clothed cock so close to your lips, he’s not gonna be able to hide his growing erection any longer. His cheeks flush, he doesn’t know how much more he can take, but he still tries to compose himself. 

It’s just a game of twister.

“Y/N, right-hand green.”

Chenle thanks the heavens when he hears Jisung tell you to move your right hand because it’s that hand that’s already put him in this stupid predicament. You move to a red dot and it helps create some space between your lips and his groin. And Chenle thinks the Earth is finally on his side, because Jisung’s next instruction is for him. 

“Left-hand blue.”

This seems perfect, he thinks. He can simply shift the hand that caused him to hover over you behind him. That should work. And it does, but only for a little while. Because on Jisung’s next instruction, you’re reaching over Chenle's shoulder with a hand, but your reach isn’t quite good enough, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself balanced on one arm. 

Then it happens – you land on top of him, and the room fills with whoops and cheers as the game comes to an end. But Chenle can’t comprehend that because all he can think about is you, and how your body is pressed on his, tits crushing him and looking so delectable. 

He sees you laughing, and God, how he adores your smile. He almost loves it as much as he loves how close you are to him, almost. You feel so warm, and he wants you to stay there forever, wrapped up in him as he... well, his thoughts suddenly take a more heated turn.

Damn, he’s getting hard.

No, fuck, he’s getting hard with you on top of him.

Without hesitation, Chenle brushes you off him and rises to his feet. He hastily adjusts his sweats to conceal his bulge, but nothing can disguise the sudden shift in his mood, which casts a frosty chill over the atmosphere.

“Dude, you good?” Mark asks. 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Chenle responds, his voice strained as he tries to sound casual. 

The vibes in the room have turned awkward, suffocating almost. All he can think about is you, and he just wants this whole shit show to be over.

“Hey, why don't we call it a night?” he suggests, trying to mask the urgency in his tone. “I mean, it's getting late, and I'm sure we all have stuff to do tomorrow.”

You exchange glances with the others, sensing Chenle's unease, but you all agree to pack up and leave. As you gather your things and head towards the door, Chenle can't shake the image of you out of his mind. All he wants is to be alone, to explore the thoughts and desires that have been swirling in his head ever since the game started – he wants to deal with his boner.

Once you’re gone, Chenle lets out a sigh of relief, finally able to breathe again. But even with the apartment empty, his mind is still consumed by thoughts of you. He knows he needs to get a grip, but the memory of your touch, your laughter, lingers in the air, and he can't help but crave you.

He can’t control himself anymore, he just feels so needy. He sits down on the sofa, eyes fluttering shut as he thinks. He lets his tongue slip out from between his lips and one hand travels down his body, over his hoodie until he reaches the waistband of his sweatpants. 

He can still feel the warmth of your breath there, and he’s harder than a rock, but this time there's no need to hide it. He wastes no time slipping inside the fabric to palm himself, his hands cool and rough. He savours the feeling of rubbing his long, thick length slowly with both hands, imagining it's your body taking him in, and filling you to the hilt.

You.

The girl he could never quite shake. The girl who Jisung had introduced to the group a couple of years ago. The girl who started hanging out with them more often, securing her invite to ‘boy’s night’ at his place. The girl who he’d found himself having the same interests as. The girl who was seconds ago brushing soft fingers over his body while playing Twister.

His friend.

His mouth parts and he thrust his cock up into his fisted hands. Precum lubes the tip of his head as he spreads it around with his thumb, gently rubbing the slick up and down himself. Needing more glide, he spits into his hand and rubs it down his length, coating his cock. He knows that when he finally gets to bury himself inside of you he won’t need spit, you’ll be fucking soaking for him, he’ll make sure of it.

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. He needed this, badly. It had been a long night of your body bending, spinning and twisting – and fuck – remembering the way your back curved so delicately in the first round. 

Not to mention you’d worn leggings that clung to your skin and a T-shirt that dipped low enough to flash everyone. Skimpy shit that you insisted were your ‘comfortable clothes’. He doesn’t believe that for a second – but he’s not complaining. They may have killed him when he was trying to hide his arousal, but now he’s glad he’s got a more accurate image for his thoughts. 

Thoughts that include him wanting nothing more than to feel your body beneath his, sweating and used. Panting. Hair wild and a mess, as his fingers explore every inch of your flesh. He wants you wet enough that your arousal seeps over your thighs. He wants his cum dripping out your mouth, down your chin, and pooling on your tits.

He wants you filthy.

Fuck.

He palms himself up and down again, gritting his teeth and throwing his head back against the sofa.

He wants to bend you over, stretch you out. He wants to make you beg for him, writhe for him. Mould you to be his perfect little toy. If you could see him panting as he indulgently strokes himself to thoughts of you he’s sure you’d be flushed, embarrassed. 

The image has him shuddering and thrusting his cock up into his hand again. And again. And again. 

Fuck. What would you say if you knew? If you walked in and saw him?

You couldn’t blame him. Nobody forced you to insist on the game of Twister. Nobody forced you to trace your delicate little hands across his legs and arms and shoulders as you found the coloured circles. Nobody forced you to stumble on top of him, your grip holding his shoulders to find balance, immediately triggering his mind with thoughts of you riding him. 

And fuck – nobody forced you to be that flexible. 

His arms begin to ache at the punishing speed, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn’t stop. It felt too good. He hisses at the smooth glide over the sensitive underside of his head, head falling back again as he curses. 

He knows you’d beg for it - just like he is.

“Fuck, Y/N…”

You and Haechan are making your way through Chenle’s building, en route to the parking lot. Haechan had insisted on you driving him home tonight, citing that "Ubers are too expensive in this economy." But as you both walk towards the car, your mind starts to wander.

Chenle's behaviour tonight was odd.

He never ends your Friday night hangouts early, and his sudden shift in demeanour was quite... uncharacteristic. Moreover, he's usually very competitive, yet there were numerous instances during the game where he could have easily nudged or jostled you, but he refrained. It was almost as if you were a hot stove, and he feared getting burned by touching you.

Was he coming down with a cold or something? Whatever it was you don’t like it, and you’re about to ask Haechan about it. However, as your hand reaches into your jacket pocket, you realize: shit, you left your car keys.

"Mind waiting here? I left my keys back there," you inform Haechan and he looks at you unimpressed. 

He groans dramatically, “Y/N, it’s freezing out.”

"Relax, I'll be back in five minutes tops," you assure him.

 "I knew I should've gone home with Jisung.”

 You quirk an eyebrow, "What was that?" 

"Nothing, just hurry up." 

You return to Chenle’s building, taking the elevator up and walking down the halls. You hoped he hadn’t retired to bed if he was feeling unwell. Unfortunately, you can't even send him a quick text because your phone is with your keys.

You're slightly puzzled as you reach Chenle's door and find it open just a crack, unusual for him as he typically locks up immediately after everyone leaves. Concern creeps in — did something happen to him?

Anxiety triggers, and though you know you should knock and give him some warning that you're entering his apartment, your rational mind seems to switch off. And then it fogs because you just realised what you’ve just walked into.

Chenle’s head is thrown back with shut eyes, lips parted just a touch as he fists his cock. He groans, the motions causing a loud sloppy sound. His hand goes past the base of his cock and he grabs his balls, tugging at them with a whine. 

He fucking whined. 

You have to fight every urge not to gasp because the sight sends heat to the place between your legs, wetness pooling in your panties because he looks so hot, so unfiltered, raw and erotic. His face is so relaxed, his breath uneven, and you wonder what has got him so worked up. He looked like he was ready to kill moments ago. 

“Fuck Y/N…”

What the fuck?

Chenle sounds like he’s on the brink of an orgasm…to your name. Were you hearing it correctly? If only you could see better, peer further into his apartment, and realize that you'd made this whole thing up, then you could relax – you could curse your mind for playing such a cruel hot joke on you.

So you do, you creek the door open and that’s when you see his abs begin to quiver and his eyebrows knit tighter together. It was visible that he was getting close and he let out an involuntary yell, hips bucking as his hand pumps harder.

Your thighs rub together, and your legs threaten to tremble from the sight. You'd never imagined yourself being so turned on from watching someone else get off, but here you are, and you don't think you've ever been more aroused. 

And perhaps you’re a little too aroused because you don’t even realise that Chenle’s hand has stopped stroking because he’s staring straight at you, eyes wide looking like a deer in headlights. His cheeks are red and he’s awkwardly stuffing his very hard cock back into his sweats. 

“Oh shit! Fuck! I’m sorry,” you stumble over your words as you turn around, giving him a little bit of privacy. 

Chenle is at a loss for words. While he might have entertained the idea of you catching him, he never expected it to actually happen. And he certainly hadn't anticipated just how hot the glint of lust in your eyes as you watched him would be.

“No, it’s my fault…I should have locked the door.”

You’re still facing away from him, looking at his apartment walls when he stands to his feet and walks closer to you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as he settles behind you. It’s a delicious warmth and if you weren’t just caught being a fucking perv, you would have let yourself bask in it. 

“N-No, I should have knocked, I just came to get my keys, I’m so so sorry–”

“Y/N will you just look at me?”

He cuts you off and you feel him wrap a hand around your wrist. You wonder if it’s the same one that was wrapped around his cock and – fuck Y/N – now is not the time. 

His gentle tug compels you to turn around and face him. You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes; instead, yours remain fixed on the floor. Still, you can feel the intensity of his gaze burning into your forehead.

"How long were you standing there?" His voice breaks the silence, prompting your mouth to open and close, resembling a fish for a moment as you process his question. 

"I-I um, not long," you stammer out.

“Not long?” He raises an eyebrow, “Were you planning on standing there until I came or what?” 

Your mouth goes dry as the realization dawns upon you because, yes, that's exactly what you were planning on doing. You wanted to witness what he looked like when he reached his climax, to see if he could possibly look any sexier than he already did as an orgasm washed over him.

“Lele—”

"You know," his finger reaches up to rest beneath your chin, trailing along your jawline until he has a firm grip, coaxing your eyes to meet his. "If you wanted to see me cum, the least you could have done was offer to help."

"W-what?" Your eyes widen in surprise.

"You heard me," he smirks confidently. "You gonna help me or what, Y/N?"

You bite your lip and nod, your hand dances along the hem of his sweats slipping inside to feel the length of his cock. It twitches in your grasp, and it doesn’t surprise you since he looked so close to his peak only seconds ago. 

Chenle sucks in a breath, he’s thought about this moment plenty, and today specifically, he’s been so pent up about it. He focuses on the feeling of your touch, slow but effective as you tease him. And Chenle swears he almost drools at the sight of you collecting his precum and licking it off your thumb – it’s so filthy – just as he fantasised.

The sounds coming from his mouth are heavenly and sinful all the same, echoing in your ears. Your hand hovers over his length again, only starting to stroke when he bucks his hips. The rutting of his hips forces you to quicken the pace and his breath is all but shallow gasps. 

Chenle can’t help the way his abdomen tenses, and his eyes find themselves falling on your low-cut top that had earlier been teasing him with your tits as you contorted your body for a stupid board game. Chenle thinks the view paired with your vigorous stroking might be enough for him to blow his load in his pants.

He's whining. He needs it. He’s chasing it. 

He spasms as you continue frantically fucking him with your fist. He meets your touches grunting and cursing with every thrust. He bites down hard on his lips when you grab his balls cupping and pulling and squeezing until you know his high is ready to hit him like a steam train.

Chenle’s body tenses, thrusting his cock as hard as he can manage. His stomach contracts as stars cloud his mind and he moans out your name. His body has never been hit by this much blinding bliss before – especially not from just a hand job. But still, his legs buckle and he has to steady himself on the wall behind him.

“Fuck Y/N! Just like that, gonna cum.”

Unashamed, his eyes roll back as cum shoots violently from his pulsing cock and all over your hand. His voice rings out clear and desperate with yells in the air. Long strings of hot cum coat your fingers, each rope eliciting another groan. Another clench. Another bliss.

You bite your lip, relishing the explicit sight of Chenle as he rides out his orgasm. Despite being soaked through with arousal yourself, your own pleasure takes a backseat; witnessing him in such a state – sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes glazed with ecstasy – is more than enough to satisfy you.

As you withdraw your hand from his sweats, you both gaze at the white substance coating your fingers. You're almost tempted to tease him with it, to watch him shiver as you lick it off your fingers, but that fantasy is abruptly cut short when the front door swings open.

“Seriously how hard can it be to find some damn keys—”

Haechan takes one glance at your glistening hand and the wet patch on Chenle’s pants and puts the pieces together. Then, he looks at you his eyes squeezing as he grimaces.

“If you left me in the freezing cold for fifteen minutes to give Chenle a fucking hand job, I'm going to kill both of you."

[utterlyotterlyx]

When I Met The Devil

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Two to When I Kissed The Teacher which you can read here.

Summary - Azriel adored everything about you, but there was still certain information that you were keeping from him. Azriel finds out exactly what you've been hiding thanks to a particularly unfortunate visit.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma

It had been three months since Azriel had taken you on your first (of many) dates. Azriel had been so nervous, not sure where to take you that would be able to live up to your expectations, even Nyx had given him some ideas by babbling on about what made you smile in the classroom.

Apparently you loved nature, of course you did, you were from the Spring Court. So Azriel had packed up a picnic and taken you to a garden of wildflowers away from the city to watch the sunset and gaze at the stars. You had taken his breath away when you had opened the door to him, you had dressed in a loose fitting pale blue dress with white flowers embellished into the bodice, the sleeves hung off of your shoulders and your hair lay unbound down your back.

That day had been one of the best days of his life, he had gotten to know you beyond your profession and learnt so much about you, but the nagging feeling that you were omitting some truth tugged at him, but not enough for him to make a deal about it. Azriel had kissed you under the stars, he had run his fingers through your hair and kissed you so passionately that you swore the world had stopped moving just so it could watch you

Since then, you had been inseparable.

Azriel showed up at the school each day after that, sometimes in the morning at drop off or in the evening at pick up, sometimes both, and he always brought you flowers or chocolates or anything he could think of that would bring a smile to those lips. He would walk you home, but more often than not he would pull you inside the River House and force you to have dinner with them.

You never objected to his wishes, you enjoyed his hands on you far too much to say no.

Azriel was happy to take things slow with you, you were so gentle and pure, if you wanted to wait years to share a bed with him then he was okay with that. You were worth any wait.

One morning you had opened the door to the school, frowning slightly when you couldn't see Azriel or Feyre and Rhys with little Nyx waiting on the grass. They would have told you if Nyx wasn't well and needed to take the day off unless it was serious, but even then, Azriel still would have showed up on the grass with our without Nyx just to see you.

It plagued your mind all day, and you did your best to conceal your worry from the children and continue as normal, but when it came to home time and none of them were there, you knew something wasn't right.

You had locked the room up quickly and stopped by a healer to pick up some infant friendly tonics just in case Nyx needed anything, bundling the vials in your hands as you rushed down the winding streets of Velaris, allowing your feet to take you where you needed to go whilst your mind reeled with endless possibility.

Lifting the hem of your skirt as you ascended the steps of the River House, you completely missed the scent that haunted your nightmares, too frantic with worry to notice it curling around you like chains. Then you saw the back of his head, shoulder length blonde hair and broad shoulders, and then the scent hit you, one of Spring rain and lifeful earth, and you dropped the vials in your hands onto the floor, not even flinching when they broke and cut through your skin.

The thing in question turned his head to the side and sniffed, smirking with feral delight before he fully turned to you, and you saw nothing else but him and those eyes that had made you do things you didn't want to too many times, they were dark and honed in on their prey. His lips tilted upward and he rose to his feet, and you didn't hear anything anyone else was saying or commanding as he strode across the room and stopped right in front of you. You didn't dare look up, you couldn't, and then his fingers gripped your chin harshly and forced your gaze upward.

"I've been looking for you," the room held a collective breath, his shoes crunched down on the broken glass and the liquid parted under his weight.

You knew that they were all watching you, waiting for you to say something, you averted your gaze to Azriel who was on his feet, fists clenched and glowering at the male who dared to touch you, "Nyx didn't show up to school, I thought he was sick, I was bringing tonics."

Feyre rose to her feet beside Rhys, "It's okay, Y/N," her eyes were soft, she could feel your terror, they all could, and then it seemed like your secret and finally been released from the depths of your shame, "Let go of her, Tamlin."

Tamlin chuckled but didn't take his eyes off of you, he cocked his head to the side and breathed you in, "Don't tell me to take my hands off what is mine," his voice was dangerously low, possession had taken over every part of him and the wolf was coming out to play, "Isn't that right, fiancé?"

"I'm not your fiancé," tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes and Azriel saw how small Tamlin made you feel, your shoulders had curled inward, your entire body was preparing to protect itself against the male who held your head in his hands. You looked to Azriel then, "I ran. I couldn't do it," you blinked hard and your tears flowed down your cheeks.

"Just because you ran doesn't mean that the agreement is void, Flower," you cringed, you felt helpless in his grip, like all of the independence you had worked for was nothing but dust dancing in the breeze, "The Tithe has been particularly awful without you."

Azriel lost it then, he grabbed Tamlin by the shoulder and forced him round, the action making his hand jolt away from your face, and Azriel landed a sickening blow to the side of his face.

"This is not a battle you want to fight, Tamlin," Rhys stood beside Azriel who was panting with fury, he knew what the Tithe was, they all did, and the thought of Tamlin using your unwilling body as a vessel for his sickening ritual was enough to send Azriel into a blind rage.

Azriel bent down to Tamlin's level, noticing Feyre rush to your side as he did to comfort you, and growled, "Touch her again and it won't be a battle, Tamlin. It will be a war."

Tamlin had the gall to grin, "She's my fiancé, Shadowsinger. Not even you can get between that."

"No, but I can," Cassian grabbed Tamlin by the neck of his coat, hauling him to his feet in front of Rhys, "Y/N is a member of the Night Court, she is a cherished member of my family. She is not your mate, so you have no claim on her and you know it. Now, leave my city before I cut your head from your shoulders and leave Spring lordless."

Knowing he wouldn't win on Night Court soil, Tamlin scoffed and headed for the door, not before stopping at your side and letting his gaze roam your figure, "They can't watch you forever. I'll see you soon, Flower."

Then he left.

And you stood standing in Feyre's arms pale and frozen, looking at the broken glass on the floor and shaking your head, "I have to go," you announced, peeling yourself out of Feyre's embrace and feeling like a completely awful friend to her, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N.."

You couldn't stick around and listen to her call your name, you couldn't stay there and witness Azriel looking at you like a stranger. So you ran. You ran all the way home, you didn't stop for a single moment until you closed the door behind you and slid down the wood, bursting into chest wrecking sobs.

If anyone would know who you were, it would be Lucien Vanserra, he was Tamlin's friend after all.

The red haired male found himself dragged before the Inner Circle by Elain, a thing he detested, he had just returned from the human realm and wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up with his mate, sitting in front of them was something he wanted to be rid of and fast.

"What do you know about Y/N? She came from the Spring Court," Lucien's eyes widened in saddening alarm at Feyre's question, he looked about the room as if you'd pop out from a corner at any given second.

"She's here?" Feyre nodded, "How is she?"

The question took them by surprise, and confirmed what they already knew, that you certainly we no double agent, but they had to know your story, it was a matter of protecting you, "She could be better. Tamlin was here."

Lucien's eyes darkened into molten lava pools and his nostrils flared, "Did he see her?" the silence confirmed his own query and he looked deflated, his shoulder fell and sadness floated over his face, enough sadness that Elain had moved to his side and wrapped his hand in her own.

"We need to know everything," Rhys ordered, moving his gaze to Azriel who was itching to leave the house and go to you, but even he had to know what had happened.

The Autumn male sighed, feeling conflicted, not wanting to tell your story for you but knowing he had no choice, "Y/N belongs to a very powerful Spring Court family, her father wanted a direct line to Tamlin so offered up his eldest daughter, Y/N, for marriage. Her father was a prick, no doubt still is. He sold Y/N to Tamlin like she was worth nothing more than what she could breed. She tried so hard to put off marrying him, she wanted a long engagement so that she could get to know Tamlin but everyone knew she just wanted more time to find a way out. Then the Tithe came and even I couldn't stop him from taking her into that cave," Lucien looked to Feyre who knew Tamlin all too well to know that what he was saying was nothing but the truth.

"Each year after that first Tithe, he sought her out against her will, you could hear her crying bouncing off of the walls. I couldn't watch it anymore so I helped her escape, I gave her enough money to be able to travel the continent and never heard from her again. I just did all I could to throw him off, to keep him away from her. Y/N was the happiest person in Spring, everyone loved her so much, and Tamlin ruined her."

"Seems like a pattern," Feyre cleared her throat and settled into Rhys' warmth that had wrapped around her like a blanket. She felt horrible, she thought she had it bad, but at least Tamlin never took her against her will like he had done to you repeatedly.

"Feyre I don't want to compare, but you have to understand that what he did to you was not nearly as bad as what he did to her. He took her light away, he forced her into a darkness I've never seen before or seen since, the neglection was sickening, she would cry for days on end, she'd mourn the life she dreamed of. It was unbearable."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, "She made it here though, I knew she'd find where she belonged in the end."

"Why didn't she tell me? I would have understood."

Rhys shushed his mate, he knew how much Feyre loved you, they all did, "Sometimes you don't want to talk about what others made you do," his mind drifted and eyes glazed over as he remembered his own story for a moment, the painful memories tugging at his heartstrings.

Rhys knew how it felt to be used against your own will, he knew how it felt to lie there each night and feel like a worthless pawn in someone else's game. He knew how it felt to work yourself into exhaustion trying to forget the terrors others had willingly inflicted on you.

If anyone could truly understand you, then it would be him. And there was no way he was going to let you lock yourself away and perish with shame when you had a family and life awaiting you.

[pumpkinologists]

Sweet Dreams

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: Spencer wakes up from a dream and tells you all about it

Warnings: Smut, face sitting, hickies, corny fluff

Notes: The fluff parts of this are actually so corny.

Crossposted on AO3

Enjoy!

It was no secret that Spencer talks in his sleep. He said names, locations, unintelligible words, and the occasional fun fact. You learned a lot about him from what he said in his sleep; he would always tell you about his dreams when he would wake up.

The talking never bothered you. Really, it was oddly comforting, lulling you to sleep when he would murmur things and squeeze you tighter to him. 

A whisper of your name was heard throughout the dimly lit and silent room. Being able to tell it was his unconscious mind talking, you opted for a small smile, snuggling into the mattress. It wasn't uncommon for him to say your name. Although the first time he did it, it scared you shitless. 

Just as you were about to fall asleep again, you heard a full, strung-together sentence fall out of the warm body next to you. Turning curiously, you listened for anything else. The small night light that was plugged into the wall by Spencer's nightstand illuminated the sleeping man's face. He looked so perfect. 

"So beautiful." A murmur left his parted lips, and his eyebrows seemed to quirk up slightly. He spoke your name: "Yes, of course." He seemed to be having a conversation with someone in his dream. 

Spencer's body moved, his hands reaching towards you. Your name again. His hand fell on your waist, and a sigh of relief was drawn from him. He weakly tried to pull your body towards him, humming when he was successful. His face pressed into your chest, and his arms hugged you tightly against him.

Unheard words were said lowly into your skin; he seemed to be having a very good dream. Spencer may not seem like it, but he really did enjoy close physical contact, as long as he was comfortable with the person he was engaging in it with. When you first met, he was scared to even hold your hand; now he tries to touch you in any way he can when you're both alone.

Smiling fondly at the memory, you feel Spencer stir against you. "Mm," he whispered your name, his voice awake. You moved a hand up to stroke his hair, reminding him you were there. 

He still held onto you; you were almost sure he was pouting to himself about waking up. "I won't be able to fall asleep again," he whined into your neck. You chuckled and scratched his scalp lightly. 

"Tell me about your dream." Slowly, you moved your hand from his hair down to his back, rubbing it lightly. You could feel Spencer blush as he nuzzled into you. "It's a little embarrassing," he said, but that didn't stop him from picking up his head and recalling what he had imagined. 

"I was in a field," he paused pensively, "A field full of wildflowers; there were mountains in the distance." He started to fidget with the fabric of your shirt.

"It was really peaceful." He smiled softly and said, "I especially liked the part where you showed up." His fingers still fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "You looked so beautiful." A flush came over you at his words. "Did I?" He nodded, a bashful half-smile falling on his lips.

"You’re always beautiful." He was soft with his words; he made eye contact with you, your noses touching. "The most gorgeous human being I’ve ever had the blessing to lay my eyes on."

You're full-on blushing now, the heat carrying throughout your face. He swallowed and opened his mouth to finish his vision. "You were in a white dress. There was a soft breeze." His hand moved to your hip and squeezed gently. 

"You looked like an angel. I swear I saw a halo," he said, laughing softly at the thought. "I was running towards you, and just as we were about to touch, I woke up." You could see the frown on his lips even in the dim light. "Well, I’m holding you right now. Is that not good enough?" you teased, kissing the tip of his nose. 

He scrunched his nose and pinched the skin underneath your shirt. You gasped and pouted, "Hey!" Spencer only chuckled and stroked the skin he had pinched with his thumb. "I guess the real thing is better." He laughed, rolling his eyes. You frowned and lightly smacked his back.

"Seriously," he was genuine now, his voice gentle. "The real thing really is better." His lips maneuvered over to yours, kissing you softly. His hand that was on your hip moved up to hold your cheek, deepening the kiss. It was still gentle, your lips moving together perfectly.

Spencer caressed your cheek and creased his eyebrows. A noise leaving his throat. That noise set something off in you. You pushed him onto his back, not forcefully, but just enough so that he’d get the memo to move himself. You straddled his lap, not breaking the kiss.

Heavy breaths left both of your noses lingering together. You ran your hands down his chest; he still gripped the sides of your face. The noises still came from him. You broke the kiss, panting for breath. Spencer groaned as you ran your hands down his body, stopping at his lower stomach. 

You moved to give his lips a small peck before going to his neck. As you set your lips to kiss gently just behind Spencer’s earlobe, you earned a small whine from the man below you. He squirmed slightly as you continued to plant kisses on his neck. 

Felling Spencer’s growing erection against your ass, you grinned into the kisses you trailed down to his chest. Knowing his chest was sensitive, you tenderly sucked and licked his skin. You created red marks that trailed over his chest, knowing that they would soon turn purple.

Spencer was gripping your hips tightly. His face was scrunched up in pleasure, while whines and whimpers fell melodically from his soft lips. He whined your name as you went lower, his hips writhing underneath you, itching to get some sort of friction.

Now working spots into his stomach, you gripped onto his waist, watching his body twist. A particularly loud whine came from Spencer when you sucked into a sensitive spot right under his ribs.

"Shh, I know. I know," you crooned up at him, moving to take one of the hands that had fallen from your hip. He let out a soft plea, squeezing your hand and thrusting his hips upward.

His v-line came next. His prominent pelvic bone and veins are the most sensitive. You purposely avoided those placed first. Kissing around them. Spencer’s was desperate; the hand that held yours was squeezing so tightly that you felt like he’d crush your bones. 

Giving him some of the satisfaction he craved, you licked the veins that climbed his pelvic area. He gasped, his eyes flying open at the sensation. "So good." Spencer groaned and turned in your grip. You continued to lap at his skin until you reached the waist pant of his purple boxer briefs.   

Just as the hand that still rested on his waist moved to pull down the soft cotton that rested low on his hips, he stopped you. You were confused, removing your mouth from his skin. "Spencer?" you questioned, and he let his panting breath slow down before he spoke.

"Sit on my face. Please." 

It was the most desperate thing you had heard him say. Your mouth was agape, and your motions paused. "I— Spencer?" He shook his head, looked deeply into your eyes, and said, "Please. Please, I need to taste you." 

You were still taken aback by his sudden request, but you nodded slowly. Moving your hands from his body, you moved off him, taking off your panties and throwing them onto the ground. 

Spencer watched the way the soft yellow light illuminated your thighs and lower body. He groaned, his cock somehow growing impossibly harder. "God, you’re so perfect." He rasped, his head falling against the pillow. 

You smiled and moved to straddle him just below his face. "Ready?" you asked softly, reaching down and scratching his scalp. He nodded vigorously. His hands came up to grip your hips as you lowered yourself down onto his mouth. 

Spencer wasted no time as he started to lap at your folds, the sensation causing you to lose your balance. You placed your hands against the headboard and let out a squeak of surprise when he languidly licked at you.

His hands held your squirming hips in place, completely contradicting the way his own pelvis twisted against nothing. The noises that he made sent vibrations straight through your core. You were making noises yourself, with moans and whimpers filling the room. 

The grip you had on the head board intensified, as did the volume of your moans, when Spencer thrust his tongue into your dripping core. The wetness from your pussy was spread all over Spencer’s face. From his nose to his chin, he was covered.

A hand trailed up from your hip to underneath your shirt, gripping your breast. The feeling of his hand fondling you made an impossible amount of wetness gush from your core.

Your hips moved back and forth rhythmically against his face. Your clit hitting his nose perfectly with every movement. He seemed to be enjoying himself; his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he tasted you. His breaths were short, and he was panting. Hips still pushing up into the air. 

Spencer was in heaven, and you were his own personal angel. 

As your arousal continued to grow tenfold, you felt the impending sensation of your orgasm. Your hips sped up, your moans following close by. Spencer must have noticed the way your pussy clenched around his tongue and your moans became more frequent because he started to help you rock your hips back and forth.

He whined into you. His hand that was under your shirt returned to your hip, helping the other hand push you against him. He was close too; the thought of you making a mess on his face was enough for him to be on the brink of coming undone. 

Suddenly, Spencer stopped moving your hips. His mouth just in the right position to suck harshly on your clit. You had no time to process what was going on before you felt the warmth overwhelm you. As you came, you clenched around nothing, your wetness gushing all over Spencer’s face. 

"Oh my god," you panted, sliding off of Spencer’s face and flopping unceremoniously beside him on the bed. "You’re so good," you gulped, and turned to see the man beside you panting, his face glistening with your arousal.

Your eyes trailed down his body; there was a dark spot on his boxers, signifying that he came too. "Spencer?" You called out his name, making sure he still had cognitive function. He hummed and looked over at you, his eyelids heavy and his cheeks glowing bright red. 

"Did you cum just from that?" you whispered in surprise. He furrowed his eyebrows and nodded. "How could I not?" He turned over and held your hand. His eyes scanned your face before he took it into his hands, kissing you gently. 

When he pulled back, his lips lifted into a loving smile. "You’re right. The real thing really is better."

[highvern]

Silk

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: smut, friends to lovers, established relationship

Warnings: weed mention, alcohol mention, moments of self-doubt/insecurity, oral (f. receiving), fingering, boyfriend Mingyu, making out, hickies, mentions of frat!svt, grinding, panty/pussy job, cumshot, first time together, mentions of previous partners, not seeing heaven pt II!

Length: ~4.3k

Note: another Drunk Goggles installment! this is probably gonna be the last one for a while tbh. im working on something new for my gamer boy husband wonwoo as we speak. "adamas et aurum" was written to balance the depravity that takes place.

MDNI! 18+ ONLY

read more here

Mingyu doesn’t recall the details of the first time he saw you naked. At least what your nude body actually looked like. He remembers it being at his frat’s mountain weekend junior year, that one of the other guys brought you as their date, and how Mingyu’s then girlfriend had broken up with him that morning when he came to pick her up to leave for the cabin. The second he arrived he holed up in his assigned room upstairs, listening as people arrived throughout the day from under the covers.

When he finally came down, he stumbled into an already out of hand game Truth or Dare thanks to Hoshi and his liberal drink pours. Everyone was laughing wildly, DK’s shirt was wrapped around his head, and Joshua looked like he had just taken a shower fully clothed.

“I dare you to go skinny dipping in the lake.”

Everyone knew about Jun’s crush on you so the dare just made Mingyu roll his eyes as he grabbed a beer and walked out onto the porch overlooking the water, hoping to drown his sorrows in the bottom of the bong he brought with him. 

You had never been one to back down, so it was no suprise Mingyu was watching you sprint down the steps towards the lake, discarded clothes fluttering to the ground behind you. He caught sight of your bare rear seconds before you hit the surface with a splash, and that was that.

All in all, Mingyu doesn’t remember much about it.

But the first time Mingyu sees you naked as the girl he’s dating, he’s tempted to grab his phone and document the occasion so he can relive the moment again and again. 

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen tonight beyond the nice dinner he treated you to followed by a stroll downtown. When he walked you to your door to kiss you goodnight, you invited him in. Mingyu thought it was because you didn’t want to end the night yet, happy to oblige you’re desire to prolong his company. 

You’d confessed to each other almost a month ago, and in that time Mingyu tried to be nothing less than a gentleman. Most of his behavior is ingrained in him already: holding open the car door for you, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, getting you the same small bouquet of wildflowers you love from Ms. Kwon every Saturday. All of it as easy as breathing due to his innate drive to care for those who mean the most to him.

Other less appropriate behavior, reserved for you and only you, fights tooth and nail to claw its way out of the most depraved parts of his mind.

The first time you made out, he barely stopped himself from flipping over to pin you against the couch and have his wicked way with you. When he felt you up in the back of his car at the drive in for the first time like a desperate teenager, he had to actually bite his tongue to keep from ripping your shirt off and exploring everything underneath. The few times you’ve sent him suggestive text messages, usually accompanied by a photo of you in the bath with the naughtiest bits covered by bubbles or a suggestive mirror selfie that highlighted your figure, Mingyu nearly cries when stopping himself from sending an even more suggestive response.

The issue isn’t that he thinks you’d dislike him doing those things, tempting him more and more with each passing day. But Mingyu’s worst fear at this point in your very new relationship is that you’ll think he only wants you for sex. Scared shitless that he’s misread the signals you’ve given him, confused innocent gestures as a go ahead to lust and crave. So his simple solution is to not do anything, provide nothing that can point even remotely in that direction. A perfectly PG relationship so you don’t misunderstand his interest.

To say it was a bomb to your self-esteem is an understatement. Mingyu is always the one to pull away first, the one to stop things when they verge on being more, before anything can go too far. Tonight you invited him in with the intention to ask him what his deal was. You know he’s not inexperienced; confirmed by several of your friends in college sharing details after spending a night in his bed. And it hardly seems that he’s regretting sharing his feelings with you; never missing an opportunity to inform you how beautiful he thinks you are or how much he likes spending time with you. The collection of good morning and good night texts littering your phones, each a precious reminder that you’re the first person he thinks of when he gets up and last before he goes to sleep. Down to his eagerness in planning dates, making reservations or buying tickets the second he knows your calendar is clear, effort oozing from his pores. You don’t know any guy that would try even half as much as Mingyu does if they weren’t interested.

There didn't seem to be any hardware issues on his end either. The first time you made out on your couch, the tantalizing feel of his hard cock against your bottom told you he was at least attracted to you. You just don’t get why he doesn’t seem to want to touch you the same way you yearn to touch him.

Tonight starts like it always does. Sitting a little bit too close on the couch, Mingyu’s hand finding your thigh, your own playing with his fingers as you discuss this and that. He tells you how Wonwoo finally got the courage to ask out his coworker he had a crush on. You update him on the work drama with your manager.

Eventually, someone shuffles closer, eyes meet, a head tilts, and all of a sudden your tongue grazes his as he coaxes you into his lap.

Testing the waters, you gently rock your hips against his as you nip his earlobe, releasing a stifled gasp when he rise to meet you. Embolden by his response, your fingertips skate up his chest as you arch further into him, lips searching for his.

“We should—mhm— slow down.” Mingyu pants into your mouth, making no effort to remove himself from you despite his words.

“But I want you.” You gasp as the next buck of his hips has the rough fabric of his jeans grinding against your barely covered pussy as your short dress rucks up higher and higher on your hips.

Dropping to Mingyu’s neck, you hope the rake of your teeth on his jaw will convince him to touch you the way you desperately need.

Your right hand is twisted through his hair, sending chills down his neck when your nails scratch his scalp. The other covers his as you place it on your breast, arching your chest and urging him to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, eyes trained on the way you fill his palm perfectly.

His next squeeze is answered with another moan. Mingyu knows it’ll burn his ears next time he’s alone in his room.

“Wait.” He breaths.

Mingyu’s tone tells you he’s serious. Still in his lap, you lean back to look down at his face.

His eyes are closed and long breath leaves his nose before he mutters, “We should stop.”

“Oh.” You exclaim shakily.

You try to not let the hurt that arises bleed into your voice but it’s impossible. 

Crawling out of his space, you sit back on the cushion next to Mingyu, putting a foot of distance between you. You focus on anything else besides the man beside you, training your eyes on how your fingers pick at the hem of your dress. The silence between you two is uncomfortable in a way it's never been before.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Obviously it's not fine.”

“I guess I’m just,” you pause searching for the best way to explain yourself, still unable to look at him. “confused? Everytime we start, you know, you stop. Am I making you uncomfortable? Do you not want to?”

“No!” He winces, shocked by the booming volume of his own voice. “No, I just— I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Finally looking at him, you ask, “What part of putting your hand on my boobs makes you think I don’t want you to do it?”

“I,” Mingyu responds, hand dragging down his face. “I don’t wanna mess this up and push you too far o—”

“Mingyu, stop it!” You snap, annoyed with his self sacrificing. “You're not gonna mess anything up by touching me. I thought I made it pretty obvious I want you to.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do.” You try to reel in your irritation but it's impossible.

“Why are you mad?”

“Because you’re acting like I can’t make my own decisions.”

“That’s not what I–”

You jump up from the couch to stand in front of him, arms flailing as you grunt in frustration.

“Yes, it is!” 

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman!”

“Well stop!”

“Fine!” he shouts, matching your own exasperation.

Mingyu throws you over his shoulder in a second, long legs carrying him towards your room. He’ll be damned if the first time he touches you, really touches you, is on the cramped lumpy couch in your living room. 

“Put me down!” you yell, fist pounding at his back and kicking your legs in an attempt to get free.

A gentle slap on your ass has your breath stalling. It’s not enough to hurt, barely a brush of his hand but it has your mind reeling all the same.

“Be good.” Mingyu orders, voice rough as gravel.

Oh, wow.

“And if I’m not?”

His steps falter before he continues down the hall, “Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Well at least he hasn’t been completely possessed. 

He gently sets you down on the foot of your bed, stepping back to stand in front of you with his hands on his hips which cocks to the side. You almost laugh at the way he looks like a mom about to scold her kid. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.” He states simply.

“Why not?” You protest.

Shame rises in your throat like bile when Mingyu hesitates.

“I wanna take things slow.”

“Oh…okay, that's okay.” You reassure him, reach to take one of his hands in yours. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to touch you. But we’re not having sex tonight.”

“That’s okay too.”  You can’t hide the way your breath stutters, flashes of his hand between your legs clouding your mind.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “whatever you want.”

“Can I take your dress off?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You tease, smiling mischievously up at him.

Mingyu's own mouth twists as he snags the neck of his shirt, subconsciously flexing the muscles along his arms and stomach enticingly as it rises over his frame. If anyone asks, he’d deny doing it on purpose but the way your eyes scorch across his skin makes him tense just a little bit more. His vision is blacked out by the fabric as it comes over his head, but when it's gone he sees heaven.

The lilac sundress you’d worn to dinner is gone, leaving your hair ruffled from its hasty removal, fluffed around your face enticingly. But it's what was under your dress that has Mingyu’s tongue on the verge of rolling out of his mouth and heart beating like a cartoon character. Your chest is wrapped in a silky pink bra, swells of flesh threatening to spill over the cups with each breath that stretches your lungs, stiff nipples poking through the edge of the fabric. The alluring pull of a matching pair of panties across your hips, accentuating your curves in the best ways, makes his cock twitch; but when you spread your legs, unveiling a tantalizing damp spot, nearly translucent where it clings to your folds teasingly, floods each of his senses with a specific type of hunger.

Fuck.

“Pants too.” You demand, but quickly correct yourself. “If that's okay.” 

You stare at one another for a beat. The clank of Mingyu’s belt being undone is the only sound beyond the duet of shaky breaths. His eyes don’t leave your face as he bares himself down to his briefs, but yours skim down his body, blazing as they trail across his form, to settle on the obvious bulge behind the cotton. When you swallow harshly, Mingyu’s ego flares.

“Come here.” You beckon.

Complying easily, Mingyu covers your body with his; arms caging you in below him as your thighs spread to cradle his hips. He settles on top of you, length nestled snugly between your folds, tip nudging your mound with each breath. It's maddening. Especially when Mingyu can feel your arousal seeping through his underwear and coating the underside of his cock.

Your noses brush gently, fleeting passes of lips as you settle against one another. You’ve only ever briefly felt Mingyu through thick layers of clothing, whether that when you wiggle your way in his lap or the few times you’ve woken up with his length pressed snugly against your ass. It gave you an idea of his size but in no way prepared you for the feel of him now, rigid as steel against your soaking center and threatening to burn you from the inside out. 

“Oh wow,” you gasp into his mouth, relishing in the slow curl of his hips against you.

“I know,” he nods, mind lost in the sweltering heat between your legs threatening to consume him.

You continue to writhe against one another, mouths meeting in rough passes of teeth and tongues. Your ankles lock at the base of his spine, pulling him firmly against you as your hands flutter across his skin, unable to stay in one place for long. Mingyu’s arm propped above you keeps his weight from crushing you, his other settles on the side of your neck, thumb tilting your chin up so his tongue can delve into your mouth. 

A particularly delicious grind of his hips has your head thrown back, moan aimed at the ceiling as you thrash pathetically. It lets Mingyu look at you. Cheeks and chest glowing with a rosy tint, a faint sheen of sweat blooming across your skin as you whine in his hold. The straps of your bra have fallen down your arms, one nipple peeking out from under the fabric, taunting him. 

The harsh suck of his mouth across your breast pulls your back tight like a bowstring. His tongue worships your chest, laving broad strokes you imagine will feel amazing on other parts of your body. He's everywhere, consuming you like a blackhole, ripping apart your entire being and leaving you disoriented. Head tipped back, you bare as much of yourself as possible for Mingyu to touch and tease; all while your abdomen tenses as your lower half cants against his.

Arching just enough to give you room to reach around, you snag the clasp of your bra relieved that the underwire is no longer digging into your chest uncomfortably. Your arms raise to pull it off, leaving you bare from the waist up for Mingyu to admire. 

“Like what you see?” You whisper, relishing in the shell shocked expression on Mingyu’s features.

He can only nod, gaze burning a hole through your chest straight to your heart.

One of his hands cup your chest gently, taking time to let the weight of the swollen flesh settle in his palm. He thumbs the stiff peak, still glossed with his spit from his earlier ministrations. Mingyu puckers his lip to blow a cool stream of air, delighting in the choke whine you release.

“Can I touch you too?”

“Please.” he moans, diving to leave a bruise on the side of your breast.

A depraved idea enters your head, whispering from the most primal parts of your mind. Mingyu said he’s not going to fuck you and you respect that wholeheartedly; the idea of waiting warming your soul. But you want to feel as much of him as possible; revel in the slide of his scorching length against you, deliver the long overdue pleasure you both want. 

“If you don’t like it we can stop.”

“Okay.”

Mingyu doesn't inform you that he doubts he'll dislike anything you do to him. Instead, he stares at your hand pushing his underwear down, fingers circling his cock in awe as you touch him for the first time. His body is miles away from his brain, like he’s drowning under crashing waves and you’re the sun he can see on the surface. Your thumb smears the beads of pre-cum collected at his tip, twisting your tight grip around the head to work him up. Sweat breaks out on his forehead, muscles in his arms jumping at the feeling of your smooth palm. He knows the image of your hand wrapped around his cock is branded in his mind forever. 

But then you do something he doesn’t expect. Your free hand grabs your underwear, moving the crotch to the side and uncovering your slit entirely. The flesh that peeks out from the outer folds is flushed a delicious pink, glistening in the low light with the evidence of your desire. When you hook the bulbous head of his cock under the hem he panics for a second, afraid you’re going to slip him inside. But you just wiggle you hips till he nudges your engorged clit, skin on skin with no barrier. Letting go of the fabric, Mingyu thinks he might be drooling when his cock is covered by soaked silk, sandwiching him against you. The erotic sight kills any coherent thoughts he has left.

“You’re —,” Mingyu starts, tongue heavy in his mouth. “What the fuck—”

He can’t stop watching how his cock moves, able to discern the nearly purple head of his length through the see-through silk that clings to his weeping tip. Your hand rests on your mound over your panties, pointer and middle finger forming a V to border the flared head on either side, giving him a bumper to grind against and forcing him a fraction harder against you.

“Move.” you beg, voice just as wrecked as his. “Please, Gyu.”

Who is he to deny you any longer?

Arms straining as he holds himself up, Mingyu keeps his gaze trained on where you're connected, entranced. Below him, you’re twisting in the sheets, twitching with each prod against your clit but your hand keeps him from slipping away.

Flashes of how from any other angle it looks like he’s drilling you into the bed, stuffing you with his cock rather than rutting against you pathetically, enter his mind. The firm pressure of your knees against his sides, ankles brushing his waist with each roll of his hips barely register in his conscious. Free hand scratching against his chest, your nails raise red lines and dimple his flesh with tiny crescents as he pummels your clit, slick with a mixture of his spunk and your own arousal. Needy whimpers singing into his ears are answered with his own groans, tempting him to shut his eyes and just feel if not for the vision below him.

The realization that he can feel you clench pitifully where his balls press against you, teasing him to just angle his hips a little bit lower and take you like he desperately wants has him surging against you even harder.

The sudden rush of stimulation overwhelms you, forcing your mind to shut down. It's all too much. The feeling of Mingyu above you, using your pussy to get off, fogs your brain. The crude rhythmic squelch where you meet sends shooting stars across the corners of your eyes. How his cock presses against your clit just so, dribbles of his pre-cum coating your most sensitive parts. The harsh squeezes of his hand on your breast, pinching the stiff peek of your nipple while his teeth nip your neck you feel like you might pass out.

“Mingyu!” You keen, chest pressing against his, allowing you both to revel in the drag of your skin on his.

The broken sound of his name on your lips skyrockets Mingyu to his end. Euphoria exploding in his chest, pleasure running from his balls to the tip of his cock as he loses all control of his body. His chest caves and breath stops as he jerks in your hold, rutting against you as his seed pushes through the ruined fabric of your underwear, collecting in globs above where his tip rests right on your clit; you’re fingers still pressing down on your underwear glossed in the overflowing pool of pearly fluid. Mingyu leans up as far as he can to watch, wishing to live this moment again and again. 

“Fuck, fuck!” He chants horsly, unable stop his own hips, even when the friction becomes tortious.

With one last pass he finally calms, muscles spasming as he collapses onto your chest.

The heavy weight pressing you into the bed makes you shudder below, another rush of wetness escaping.

“Good?”

Mingyu just groans into your shoulder, attempting to catch his breath.

“You’re crazy.”

You give an indignant huff, jaw clenching in mock annoyance.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Yeah well you clearly liked it!”

“My beautiful girlfriend just let me get off using her panties that she’s wearing. I’d be insane if I didn’t.”

“Girlfriend?” 

Suddenly, you're breathless for an entirely new reason.

“If that’s okay with you.” Mingyu mumbles, comically shy as if he didn’t just cum on you.

“That’s definitely okay with me.” 

“Good.”

“Now, how about you make your girlfriend come too?”

Mingyu nearly falls off the bed in his haste to do just that. Throwing your legs wide, he bullies his way between your thighs to gape at the mess of your panties. Nothing he’s ever seen in his life can compare. Something he doesn’t think even the most debased part of his brain could have imagined but you’ve given him knowledge of a kink he didn’t even know he had. Mingyu just stares, damning his refractory period; ruining the carnal desire to cover you in his seed again and again, until the possessive part of his brain is sated and you’re both on the verge of unconsciousness.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You chide above, impatience reading its head.

“Don’t play with me right now.”

You don’t want to overwhelm him more than you have so you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you're serious. Maybe next time you’ll let him know how much the idea of him walking around with such a salacious image on his phone turns you on.

“Then touch me, Gyu.”

As pretty as you are covered in silk soaked with his cum, Mingyu knows you’re even more beautiful without the scrap of fabric. Taking a second to rub the puddle of fluids back into the fabric, you twitch as the pad of his finger massages your sensitive clit. When your hips pitch forward to seek more friction, he nearly rips your underwear with his clumsy hands in his haste to free you from them. At the sight of your bare slit, Mingyu pauses. The number of choices he’s presented with nearly drowns him; whether to taste or tease, stuff your clenching hole with his fingers or lick you from top to bottom, maybe make you show him what you like before trying it himself.

But first, Mingyu needs a better look at what he’s working with.

“Hold your legs open, baby.”

Before he can blink, your hands eagerly hook under your knees to spread yourself wide, void a timidity as you reveal yourself; unveiling every hill and valley, soft flesh dappled with pearls of his cum. Desire rushes Mingyu forward to collect the mess with his tongue, a throaty groan clawing its way out of his chest at the combination of fluids.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rasps. “You’re so hot.”

Lightening erupts in your veins under the languid heat of his tongue, every muscle twitching as he delivers maddening swirls through your folds. The fact that Mingyu is tasting the lasting traces of himself as he eats you out is like a punch to the gut. Broad strokes against your clit distract you from his hand sneaking up to circle your opening before a thick finger enters you. 

But the stretch isn’t nearly enough for how wrecked you feel, already teetering on the edge.

“More!” 

The hand you’ve ghosted down your front is pinned to the bed before you can even make it below your belly button.

“You’re gonna take what I give you.” He informs you, but gives you another finger all the same.

When a needy moan tickles his ears, Mingyu knows you’re waving a white flag, a wordless plea for him to continue playing with you as he pleases.

Fingers pistoning, Mingyu’s pointed tongue circles the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. When he crooks the digits buried deep inside you, your back leaves the bed. The hand pinning your wrist abandons its grip, allowing him to use his fingers to spread your folds and keep your clit uncovered for his tongue to lash at.

“Don’t stop,” you cry, voice thick and broken. “Please, I’m so close.”

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically as the drenched squelch of Mingyu’s mouth against you fills your ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

Your finish is bubbling to the surface, a roaring boil in your blood that deafens all your senses except where your boyfriend plays with you. Mingyu’s arm stretches up your torso to palm your breast, fingers pulling your taunt nipple. He’s pulling out all the stops, trying his hardest to send you over the edge.

“Come on, pretty girl. Let me make you come.” he begs around your clit.

“Please!” you sob. “Please, please, please!”

You’re in a frenzy above him, ecstasy inches away. Your hips bucking is so hard they threaten to dislodge him but Mingyu takes it in stride. Elbowing your thighs apart, forcing them up and open to pin you in place so he can keep going. It tickles a part in your brain that imagines what he’ll do when he does fuck you for the first time, spreading you out before making you take his cock. 

The visual paired with stretch from a third finger sets you free.

“I’m—Mingyu! Oh my god!”

The simmer in your blood boils over, starting at your core and rushing to your toes and fingertips. Wrecked moans leave your bruised lips, eyes squeezed against the licks of pleasure overwhelming you. The only thing you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears as every muscle in your quivers so hard tears gather in your eyes. He doesn’t stop as you twitch in his hold, arms flexing as he strains to keep you spread so he can work you through it. You clench so hard around his fingers his arm halts before putting in more effort to pummeling your pussy. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally relents, delivering a last long lick along your slit before moving away.

Mingyu’s face is soaked, chin and cheeks covered in your juices, nose and cheeks flushed. You just stare, mouth open in wonder as he sucks his fingers clean.

“Holy shit.”

“You okay?”

“Shhhhh.” You press a finger to his pursed lips. “Brain goo, hot boyfriend just made me cum.”

Mingyu crawls up your body, peppering gentle kisses here and there as he goes. When you're face to face you just stare at each other, expressions full of fondness and exhaustion.

“But seriously, where the fuck did you learn that?”

Mingyu’s question is answered with a maniacal giggle.

[angelshadowsinger]

Too Late (Priorities 2)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Azriel hurries back from his mission to find you’re gone. (sequel to Priorities)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

hiii guys! i originally intended on leaving Priorities an open-ended angst, but! y'all demanded part 2, so here it is~ just so you know, this is not happy. if i make a part 3, that might be! also, sorry this is a bit late. this last week was crazy busy and next week probably will be too. TW: very brief mention of vomit

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The wind howled as Azriel pelted through the sky, his raw cheeks stinging from its relentless barrage. Scarred fists were clenched so hard the imprint of his fingernails marred his palms, jaw set as he grit his teeth and powered through exhaustion. 

You were right. 

The mission that Rhys had sent him on was nothing but a menial task. Any of the lower members of Azriel’s investigation force could have done the job the same as him. But ultimately, it was only himself he had to blame; even if his brother had given him the task, he had failed to pass it on to his espionage underlings. Delegation was perhaps one of his weakest skills— even after all these years he felt he had to earn his worth within his family. 

Thankfully, he was already on his way home the evening after leaving, the ordeal taking not even a full day. And he was flying full-speed in order to get back to you as fast as he could. 

His stomach had been in knots ever since he winnowed from his room at the Town House, where he had left you alone with your tears. The sound of your sobs echoed in his head, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled your pleas for him to stay. 

He should’ve listened— This mission was the last nail in the coffin he had been slowly building every time his brother had summoned him away from you, calling him to duty with barely any time to rest between requests, barely any time to hold you in his arms. 

Gods, he missed you. Every time he had to leave you was like pulling teeth, his body and his shadows always begging to stay by your side, savor your kiss and your touch and your voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. But his mind always won out. He couldn’t count how many times he had forced himself to withdraw from your ambrosial embrace, how many times he averted his sight from your melancholy gaze. If he allowed himself to linger on it, shame would begin to swirl in his guts and tighten his throat. 

The border of Velaris came into view and the shadowsinger dared to smile, stopping on a tall plain to gather a few wildflowers together. A meager peace offering, but a gift to show his remorse nonetheless. He had never returned to you empty-handed after a fight, and would not begin now.

Azriel plucked a few more stems to fluff up the bouquet, silently preparing himself for the emotional turmoil that was bound to ensue. The things he felt for you terrified him— and maybe that was partly why he would always answer Rhys’ call. Because if he stayed, and told his brother no… that would be his recognition that you had become his top priority. Perhaps it was time to make that leap, he thought, as he winnowed right into the foyer of the townhouse.

The home was eerily silent as he materialized in the dark, no candles or faelight illuminating the first floor. The sound of the clock ticking caught his attention, hazel eyes glancing at the last hour of dusk. The Illyrian frowned, straining to hear you, hoping to pick up the clank of dishes in the sink, the crisp turn of a page from a book, or even the quiet breaths of your sleeping form from the couch you usually dozed off on when you waited up for his return. But he detected not a single sound. 

Anxiety exploded in his chest, his shadows immediately surging out in every direction without needing instruction. His feet were moving before he could think, swiftly carrying him to the last place he had seen you— where he left you, falling apart and alone. 

He cursed as he hurtled up the stairs, three steps with each stride. It was times like these that he especially wished you were his mate, so that he could reach out to you and calm the ceaseless concerns that regarded your well-being every second he was apart from you. 

Rounding the corner, Azriel burst into his bedroom, eyes immediately zeroing in on the empty, made bed. Within a second, faelight lit the room. His shadows dwindled in the corners of the room, uncharacteristically mild as they slowly swirled at the floor, not reporting their findings to their master. Azriel bared his teeth at none of them in particular, but the reprimanding he was ready to bark out died in his throat as he noticed a small whirl of black lingering on the nightstand at his side of the bed. 

He came closer to inspect it, the little mass of shadow concentrated there, some spilling down the drawers at the side and joining its gloomy brethren on the ground. With a wave of his hand it dissipated. The bouquet in his grip fell to the tile with a soft whoosh. 

Your ring. 

It felt as if he had been shot, the jolt of lethal pain akin to when he had taken an arrow to the chest in Hybern. His lips parted as he examined the delicate silver band, the large, tear-shaped sapphire that once gleamed so brightly now dull against the wood. 

‘Stop wearing this the day you stop loving me,’ he had said, his arms around her as she giggled into his chest. She was giddy at his gift, kept admiring how it looked on her finger, her hand fanning out so the moonlight would catch the gem and shine. 

‘That would be never, shadowsinger,’ she had replied easily. 

He had never felt so light, so careless and content; she loved him too. She loved him, and he kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps she was. 

Azriel fell to the ground, his knees buckling and smashing onto the hard tile. He barely felt it, every fiber of him in shock as he stared at the piece of jewelry that lay on the tabletop, now at eye-level. 

He barely heard his shadows inform him that the ring was the only piece of you in the home left, that your clothes and books and even that ugly throw pillow he hated was gone from the sofa. His wings slowly dipped until they pooled into a black mass on the floor behind him, dread oozing through him as he read the words that laid on the note beneath your ring. 

I’ll never stop, even if you have.

The shadowsinger sat and stared at the ring, at those awful words. He read them again, and then he reread them, again and again. 

He had told you he loved you before he left… But you didn’t believe him. And why should you, when all he gave you as of late were empty promises? Pretty words could only satisfy temporarily, and the latest string of seemingly-endless missions was longer than ever before. 

Doubts began to fill his mind with malicious whispers, his gaze still stuck on the ring and that hideous note. They murmured the thoughts that often found him at the odd hours of the night, when he would lay with your perfect body in his arms and sleep would welcome you but evade him– that you deserved more than he could ever give you, that he was unworthy of your pure and whole love. 

The sound of droplets splattering on the ground summoned Azriel from his descent into devastation, and his eyes slowly fell to examine the tiny pools his tears had formed beside his knees. He hadn’t realized he had started crying. He gingerly raised a scarred hand to his cheek, studying the newfound wetness on his fingertips. It had been so long since he last cried, the evidence of his emotion was foreign. 

Shaky fingers plucked the ring from the nightstand, coming to hold the tiny finery in his lap. It looked so bizarre against the crude black of the leathers binding his thighs, so bright and pure that he couldn’t help but think of you. Couldn’t help but think of when he had seen you personified the same, and he himself as a mass of darkness that would bleed into your light and poison you somehow. He thought of how every time he felt that way, you had worked so hard to convince him that he deserved you and that he deserved love, that you were so happy to be the one to give it to him. More tears escaped as he now realized his failure in telling you the same. You had always been there for him, and when you had begged him for support in your time of need, he had failed you. He had run away.

And now you had erased all traces of yourself from the house Rhys had gifted him. 

The town house had become Azriel’s official residence since his brothers had coupled off, and it had once been the fortress of his solitude. That was before he had found you, and before you had gradually moved your things in… before it had become a home. And now that it was void of you once more, it had suddenly reverted back to that empty, bleak place he had learned to hate.

A lump formed in his throat at the notion that perhaps this place had slowly transformed into your own prison of isolation these last few months. That maybe you had felt this sinking, desperate feeling when you were here, in the place that was meant to be your nest of love, your safe haven. That you had told him you were drowning here, and he had simply told you to wait for him when you were already exhausted, gasping out for him with your last breath. That when he had disregarded your desperate plea, he had effectively swung the sword and severed any faith you had left in him. 

You were gone, and it was all his fault. 

He was too late.

Nausea rolled deep in his gut and he winnowed in front of the toilet just in time before the contents of his stomach surfaced. Only once his body had heaved up everything it could did he begin to sob, knuckles pale as they clenched onto porcelain, his broad form slumped on the cool tile. Shadows swarmed the bath, mirroring their master’s distress. 

Eventually the shadowsinger sat back against the nearest wall, trying to calm his ragged breath. The shadows produced the note that had been left behind, and the sight of your parting words to him nearly triggered another fit, bile rising at the back of his throat. But he paused as he read the words again, scrutinized them even though they were few and short. He sat up and analyzed the note, hazel revisiting and eating up every curve of ink.

You still loved him. 

Even after he had ignored you, neglected you, failed you… you still loved him. Was there a chance that you… still wanted him? If he could repent and swear to do better, would you take him back? If he could just talk to you, if he could get one more chance from you… he could love you. He already did love you, but if he had another shot to be with you, then he could really give you his all, he could really allow himself to love you like he had always dreamt of. He could stand up to his brother, he could tell you how his world was meaningless without you, he could cherish you– prioritize you, he could… 

Azriel frowned, a panicked hand combing through his dark hair. 

Could he do all of that?

He had never been so outright with his emotions, it felt weak to bear his heart to such a degree… But what was the alternative? A life without you? A life filled with wondering what could have been had he not been a coward that was too scared to tell you how he really felt, too scared to even try? 

If there was a time to be brave, it was now. 

He was absolutely terrified, but his resolve was steel as he took a minute to fix himself, another to grab the flowers from the ground and ensure he had your ring. And then he was off in search of you, shadows enveloping him and melting into the night.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

[lunarbuck]

Dumb Bunny (dark!winter soldier xf!reader)

a dark little red riding hood retelling

pairing: dark!winter soldier x f! reader (any race)

wc: 3.3k

summary: The Wolf sees you walking through the forest on your way to your grandmother's house, and he just can't help himself.

warnings: dark fic, knives, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names [bunny], degradation, primal play, predator/prey, fear, crying

a/n: this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic's fairytale writing challenge :) I hope you guys enjoy!

beta'd by the amazing @sgt-seabass <3

my masterlist

The sight of your home village warms your heart. You’ve been away for so long and missed so much. It’s good to be back. You pull the hood of your cape up to keep the sun off your face and venture into the heart of the village. 

After gathering some sweets and a few loaves of bread, you bid farewell to the friendly faces you pass. As lovely as the village is, you can’t shake the feeling that something is just slightly… wrong.

The edge of the forest calls to you, the familiar sound of songbirds lulling you in. You’ve traveled this path hundreds of times; you know it with your eyes closed, even after all this time. Beautifully bright flowers bloom just off the beaten path. You gaze at them but don’t stop to pick any. Grandmother is expecting you. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her, you feel guilty you haven’t visited sooner.

As you walk, you hear footsteps crunch through the fallen leaves. You turn around, the hem of your cape fluttering with the movement. Behind you, you see a tall mountain of a man. Cloaked in black, the man stalks toward you. You’ve heard whisperings of him in town, the Wolf, they call him. 

“Excuse me, miss,” he coos, voice deep and gravelly. “Where are you headed? A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone in these woods,” he whispers. “There is danger around every corner.” 

You know what people say about the Wolf, the things he’s rumored to have done. That he’s a killer, that he roams the woods hunting unsuspecting victims. He’s ruthless, coldblooded and animal-like in his violence. You’re sure the rumors are true as you gaze up at his bright eyes. Fear flashes through your mind as you stare at him. His eyes are a stark, beautiful blue. His hair, dark and inky, frames his face, though most of it is covered by a black mask. 

“I’m visiting my grandmother’s house,” you tell him, smiling politely. You’ve always been taught to be kind to strangers, and this stranger, in particular, the way he’s looking at you, seems to scream danger. You don’t want to risk slighting him.

“Ah,” the Wolf replies, raising his eyebrows. “And what might you have there in your basket?” You move the cloth, showing the Wolf your various sweets and loaves of bread. You imagine he is licking his lips behind his mask. Images of his lips on you, of him kissing you deeply, of him tasting you, flash through your mind, and you quickly shut your eyes. You try to shake off the heat that’s settled in your belly. You shouldn’t think that way about a stranger.

“Well, I must be going. Grandmother is expecting me.” You nod to the Wolf and cover your basket, returning to the path you’d been following. Each breath feels tight in your chest.

“What a shame,” he calls. “The birds are singing so sweetly.” Your steps slow as you allow yourself to listen to the songs that float through the air, but you continue on. You can always listen to the birds as you walk.

“Ah, but the flowers are so beautiful this time of year. Wouldn’t your grandmother enjoy a bouquet?” The Wolf asks, again halting your walking. You glance at the flowers off the path, practically preening for you in the sunlight. Grandmother has always loved the wildflowers; maybe you could spare a few moments to gather a small bouquet. 

“I suppose…” You glance back at the Wolf, finding that he has continued to follow you down the path. He’s so close now that if you breathed deeply, your back would touch his chest. Your heart stutters with fear. How did he move so quickly without you hearing? How did you not feel him approach?

“You don’t want to miss out on all the beauty,” he whispers, leaning down beside your ear. With two long fingers, the Wolf tugs your hood off your head, letting the breeze flutter against your neck. He breathes deeply, and your knees wobble as you feel the heat the Wolf emanates. Something sharp trails down your neck, a stinging pain following close behind, and your eyes widen.

Not even a breath later, he’s gone. You shudder at his sudden absence and quickly dart your eyes around, looking for the Wolf, but he’s disappeared into the shadows. 

You try to calm your nerves, focusing instead on the flowers glittering just a few paces away. You kneel down, gathering your skirts to prevent them from getting dirty. The flowers are soft against your fingertips as you pick the perfect ones. All the while, the Wolf’s beautiful blue eyes burn in your mind.

The Wolf

Poor, poor grandmother, I think to myself as I drag the woman out of her woodland home and into the glade. She’ll wake up eventually, but not before I do what I want. Not before I take care of her sweet, beautiful little granddaughter. 

I go back into the house and take in the empty space. Photos of my little bunny are everywhere, school photos and memories of vacations. She looks so delectable in her too-small bikini, her bright smile practically blinding me. 

Next, I climb the stairs, finding myself in the room I had just dragged her grandmother from. The four-poster bed takes up most of the room, fabric hanging from the top of the frame like a canopy. I grin at the thought of taking my bunny here, her tears staining the blanket. Her screams filling the air. I feel myself hardening in my pants, and I adjust my cock.

When I saw her walking through town, my mouth watered. She looked so beautiful in her red cloak, the sun warming her skin. She looked good enough to fucking eat. I followed her from a distance, but once she entered the forest, I couldn’t hold back any longer. The smell of her when I got close… I could barely hold myself back. I wanted to grab her right then and there. I wanted to fuck her into the dirt. But good things come to those who wait. 

I am not a patient man, and I always get what I want. Always.

So, I lay down on the bed, the canopy concealing me well enough, and wait. 

And wait, and wait.

Until I hear the door creak open. 

“Grandmother?” My bunny calls. I can practically hear the smile on her lips. I grin beneath my mask, fingers itching to touch her. To mark her. I hear her footsteps as she wanders into the house. My heartbeat speeds up, ready for the hunt. 

“Grandmother?” She calls again, this time even closer. I see her shadow as she comes up the stairs, and a moment later, she pushes open the bedroom door. “Oh, Grandmother, are you ill?” Through the canopy, I see her set down a vase of flowers, the ones she picked in the woods, and her basket, full of sweets.  

Her fingers gently curl around the canopy’s fabric and tug it aside. Her eyes widen, and her lips part on a scream, but I’m already moving. I lunge, grab her, and push her down onto the mattress. My hand presses over her mouth, absorbing her scream.

“So fucking beautiful when you scream, bunny,” I growl, dipping my head into the crook of her neck. I breathe her in, the sweet scent of fear mixing with the floral scent of her perfume.

My bunny writhes and struggles against me, but it’s no use. I’m bigger than her, stronger than her. She’ll never escape me. She heaves her breath behind my hand, so I take it off of her, not minding if she screams. No one will hear her anyways. 

“What– what are you doing?” She whimpers, tears streaking down her face.

I don’t answer. Instead, I straddle her hips, pinning her to the bed. I run my hands along her torso and up to her breasts. She fits perfectly in my hands, and I flick my eyes to hers, watching her reaction. I can see the way she struggles with herself. The way she wants to give in to me, but something holds her back. 

“Oh, bunny,” I whisper, my hands coming up to curl around her neck. “What a beautiful neck you have.” I squeeze her neck lightly, giving her just a taste of what I want, and I see the way her pupils dilate. Her hips jolt up into mine, and I grin beneath my mask.

She breathes heavily, lips parting into a perfect, soft ‘o’. “And what perfect lips you have.” I move one hand up, running my thumb across her beautiful mouth. I lean down close, cupping her jaw. 

I want to taste her, I want to rip this fucking mask off my face and taste my little bunny, but I can’t. Not yet. I need to be patient. I sit up, slipping a knife out of my belt and flicking it open. Her eyes widen at the glinting blade.

“Please,” she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes again. “Please don’t hurt me.” I grin.

“My poor, stupid, little bunny. The more you beg me not to, the more I want to hurt you.” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and I stifle a moan. I don’t know how I’ve lived so long without her, how I’m going to go on living if I don’t have her by my side.

“What did you do to my grandmother?” She asks, voice wavering.

“You don’t want to know, bunny.” Her tears stream down her cheeks, and she hiccups as she sobs. She’s fucking perfect. I take in the sight of her blood-red cloak stark against the white sheets. I run the knife along the side of her face, not cutting or scratching her but letting her feel the sharp edge. 

I slide off the bed, dragging the knife down the center of her sternum between her breasts and down her torso. I see the thoughts running through her pretty little head. I know she wants to run. I hope she does. I step back and watch her fingers twitch before she darts off the bed. Her red cape flutters behind her as she saints down the stairs. I give her a head start before giving chase. My little bunny is more perfect than she could ever know.

After taking a steadying breath, I take off after my bunny. She left the front door open, and I catch sight of the hem of her cape as she dives behind a tree. She ran pretty far, I’ll give her that, but she won’t escape me. Never.

My feet pound on the ground as I chase her, adrenaline coursing through my veins. She keeps running, doing her best to hide as she goes deeper into the forest, but she’s not fast enough. I catch up quickly, making sure she knows just how close I am. Whenever she hears my boots snap a twig, she yelps, tripping over her feet. As we get further away from the house, she loses steam. I grin as she stumbles, constantly looking back to see me hunting her. 

Bunny’s cape gets caught on a branch, and she falls, landing hard in the dirt. She tries to crawl away, but she knows it’s no use. I stalk toward her, loving the way she shakes with each breath, and sink to the ground by her head.

I grip her by her hair, lifting her face out of the dirt, and lean down. “You lose, bunny.” She gasps as I bring out my knife, holding it near her cheek as I turn her. Even though she ran and wants to think she’s afraid of me, I know what she wants. I can fucking smell it on her. Can taste it in the air. 

“Please,” she whispers, fingers digging into the leaves on the ground. Her thighs rub together beneath her skirts, and my mouth waters. I know she won’t run this time, not when she’s so close to getting what she wants.

I remove my mask, tugging it from my face with my other hand. Her lips part as her eyes search my features. I move between her legs, running a hand along one of her legs. I push up her skirt, exposing her soft skin. With my knife, I run the tip along her leg, up and up, until I reach her panties. She can’t hide how needy she is. My bunny writhes in the dirt, begging me to touch her with her big beautiful eyes. I slide my knife beneath the waistband of her panties, slicing the fabric. I cut a matching slit near her other leg, tugging the material away. She shivers as the cool air hits her cunt.

“What a pretty pussy you have, bunny,” I growl, lowering my face to the crux of her thighs. She watches me with lust-filled eyes, nodding like the dumb little bunny she is. I bite her inner thigh, leaving an imprint of my teeth on her skin.

“What beautiful eyes you have,” she tells me, a small smile on her lips. 

“The better to see you with, bunny.” I run my nose along her pussy, and she bites back a moan. My tongue laves along her clit, and I hear her breath hitch. 

“What–” she gasps when I press a finger inside her tight cunt. “What a perfect mouth you have.” I groan against her pussy, devouring her like my last meal. 

“The better to eat you with,” I mutter into her pussy. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. She tastes so fucking sweet, practically dripping against my lips. I knew my bunny would be perfect, but she’s better than I ever could have dreamed. 

“Please, please,” she whimpers, begging for her release. I curl my finger inside of her, looking for the spot that makes her squirm, and brush my teeth over her sensitive clit. My little bunny is so responsive for me, writhing around in the dirt. 

“So fucking sweet, bunny, my own little treat.” Her whimpers get higher pitched, and I know she’s close. I’m practically humping the dirt, I’m so hard, but all I can think about is how good my bunny is being and how fucking perfect she’s going to feel wrapped around my cock. 

I work her right up to the edge, and when she’s gripping my hair so hard she’s about to pull it out, she breaks. She comes all over my tongue and finger, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I crawl up over her, my tongue running over my lips, gathering her taste. “What a good bunny,” I whisper, taking in the sight of her blissed-out expression. She wants more, though, I can tell. 

Her eyes roam over my face, her hands tracing over my features. Her lips part, but she can’t seem to find the words. “Tell me what you want, bunny.” My finger circles her sensitive clit; she jolts. 

She shudders but doesn’t speak. “Come on, bunny. I know you’re afraid. I know that you don’t want to admit it. You want my cock? Is that it, bunny? You want me to fuck you here in the dirt?” Her eyebrows pinch together, and fear flashes in her eyes. She knows I’m dangerous; she knows I am unpredictable.

“You wanna be my dirty bunny?” I ask her, nipping at the soft skin of her neck. “You’re my dumb fucking bunny, you know that? You’re gonna let me fuck you into the dirt, and you’re gonna love every second of it, isn’t that right?”

“Oh my god,” she moans, hips bucking against my fingers. “Please.”

“I need to hear you say it, bunny.” I bite her shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and she gasps. “Tell me that you’re my dumb little bunny. Tell me what you want me to do.”

I see the way she hesitates, the way her mind runs through all the reasons she should fight me, but then I see the shift. I see the moment lust takes over, and she succumbs to her primal desires.

“I’m your dumb little bunny,” she whispers. I slide two fingers into her pussy, scissoring my fingers to stretch her. “And–” she sucks in a breath. “And I want– need you to fuck me.”

“Such a good bunny.” I settle back between her legs and pump my fingers, working her up again. I use my other hand to take off my belt. When my pants are down far enough, I palm my cock, moaning. She watches me with hooded, lust-drunk eyes, and I smirk. My dumb little bunny looks so pretty taking my fingers, but she’ll look even better taking my cock.

I take a long look at her pretty face before I grip her hips and turn her over. Hooking my hands underneath her, I position her with her ass high and her head in the dirt. This is how she was meant to be; she was fucking born for this. 

I line my cock up with her perfect pussy and tease her clit, loving how she jolts each time. My little bunny has never looked better with her skirt shoved up on her waist and her face pressed against the earth.

“What a perfect bunny for me,” I tell her, spanking her ass. I press my cock into her, groaning as she squeezes me. She’s so fucking tight, so perfect, like she was made for me. Made for this. I slide in, loving how she stretches around my dick. Her face screws up the deeper I get, but I don’t give her time to adjust. 

I set a brutal, deep pace, and electricity shoots up my spine. The sounds she’s making, the way her fingers dig into the dirt, are nearly too much for me to handle. The smell of sex and earth floods my nose, and I feel it flood my bloodstream. 

She moans and whimpers with each thrust, pressing back with each thrust, egging me on. My little bunny wants me just as much as I want her. I lean down, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and haul her torso up so she’s kneeling, arching against me. I run my tongue along the spot I’d cut earlier when I’d first spoken to her, tasting the sweet tang of her blood.

My little bunny has tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face. Her eyes are screwed shut as she takes my dick.

“Such a good little bunny,” I groan into her ear. “You were fucking made for this. You were fucking born to be my dumb bunny, to take my cock.” Her cunt flutters around my dick, and my hips stutter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants like a prayer. I drop a hand to her clit and circle it in a way that makes her throw her head back, and bite the cut on her neck. The combination of sensations throws her over the edge, and she convulses on my cock.

I press her back into the dirt and pound into her, slamming into her over and over again. I come on a moan, both of us collapsing. “Good bunny,” I whisper. “Such a good little bunny.”

She falls asleep, drained from the way I used her body, and I grin at the sight. She should know better than to fall asleep next to a predator like me. I brush the dirt from my pants, tucking my cock away, and pick her up. I carry her back to her grandmother’s house and lay her on the four-poster bed. 

Next, I retrieve poor old grandmother. She’s still asleep. The drug I gave her will wear off soon. I place her on the couch in the front room. I’ll let my bunny find her when she comes to. I return to the bedroom and stare at my beautiful little bunny. 

I don’t clean her up; I don’t even put her dress back. She looks perfect, dirty, and used against the bone-white sheets.

Just the way I like her.

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[batterygarden]

aot relationship hcs

Ft. Eren, Armin and Mikasa

Sfw but no minors on my page pls, these are miscellaneous and sillly.. I wrote them in a haze after my melatonin kicked in yesterday…like 1 or 2 suggestive ones in there

Eren

He plays basketball (he’s rlly good 😔) and if you come visit him on the court he dribbles the ball around you rlly aggressively like “try n block me!” and you just stare at him straight faced because he is exhausting

He is simply the most DRAMATIC man alive. Like if you don’t give him endless attention, hold his hand, climb on him, act borderline obsessed with him… he might explode. If you go 24 hours without playing with his hair he is wearing all black and mourning your lost love… cause you must just not care about him anymore!

He’s also kinda a neat freak… another opportunity for his dramatics. If you leave a dirty dish in the sink for more than half an hour he is turning up in a hazmat suit like baby…. i can’t handle how dirty the kitchen is rn. (He’ll do the dish for you)

Casual shoplifter even though he can truly afford all the things he steals

He probably commits tax fraud too

Bad driver but over confident as hell. Driving almost 50 in a residential like STOP :/

Also… hello mr oral fixation. He’s constantly got a necklace in his teeth or something… and that’s all fine and good till you find YOUR OWN PERSONAL BELONGINGS in your boyfriends mouth god. Like give me back my nice pilot G2 pen you animal >:(

Takes rlly long showers and uses up all the hot water AND your fancy conditioner. He is definitely one of those product stealer men…

He also borrows ur claw hair clips and never gives them back 😔

Randomly pretends to beat up the air in front of you u like put ‘em up!! And you’re never sure how to react. Like you’re standing there doing the dishes and he assumes fighting stance and starts punching ghosts till you give him attention.

Armin

Accidentally rolls his eyes ALL the time. Like he doesn’t even mean to his face is just automatically sassy when he disagrees w something. But he’s self aware. Sometimes he’ll do it and you’ll pause mid-sentence then he’ll catch himself like WAIT SORRY. I didn’t mean to do that. 😔

Makes you dandelion chains without you having to ask.. or puts dandelions and other wildflowers on you all the time… in your hair, in your pocket, in the little holes where your shoelaces go.

he’ll just fiddle w your things absentmindedly CONSTANTLY… he’s simply a fidgety guy!

Like you’re sitting in the grass talking to him and he’s nodding along like Mhm Mhm… while he repeatedly zips and unzips your bag… rolling up and unrolling the straps etc.

but sometimes the thing he is fidgeting with is YOU. Your hands are a favorite… especially your rings and any jewelry you may wear 😮‍💨 this man is having a field day spinning the metal around your fingers.

He’ll sometimes over explain things/accidentally go into extreme detail and you’ll tease him for mansplaining. But a lot of the time he’ll the OPPOSITE of mansplain things and use words way too big / poorly dumb down the most CONVOLUTED subjects and you’re like slow down there mr graduated college early 😔 .. say that again as if I were a 5 year old please

His sport of choice is… wait for it… track. Yeah this man’s a runner… occasionally a hurdler… he’s got stamina.. have u seen those CALVES when he’s the colassal ! Major swoon

Pretentious as hell ab the music he listens to. Gatekeeps even…. NO PUBLIC PLAYLISTS.

He gets bad anxiety the night before work and stuff… also picks apart social interactions after they happen… generalized anxiety disorder king!

He’s a gossip of course…. Literally will give you a million looks mid social gathering that say “we’ll dissect this later”

Does weird only child things every day without realizing

Like arranging the Tupperware a specific and less efficient way than you and getting mad when you don’t put yours away like he wants it

Or getting annoyed when you don’t burn his candles a very specific way that apparently is “more efficient” 🙁

He also NEEDS alone/recharge time… social stuff can get exhausting to him!

Mikasa <3

Good w cars… best with cars out of the three hands down… she’s your personal mechanic 🥺

She’s also miss quiet road rage over here.. she seems calm and collected but she is cursing the entire lineage of the minivan driver that just cut her off in traffic.

Eats up some reality tv… and is embarrassed about it 😔 she asks you not to tell people she’s rewatching season 10 of the bachelor rn

Aggressive as hell to ucky men in bars / clubs… or just in general

Like “back the fuck off before I beat your ass” kind of aggressive… very protective of you and any woman ever in these type of situations

& she has the skill to back up her talk!! This woman is a martial artist/ full time gym rat… she is *strong*. You need not worry about your safety no matter the situation when you’re with her.

Her critical nature towards men nicely contrasts how much she LOVES bimbos lmao. Extremely forgiving and patient towards bimbos… she’ll explain things to you so so gently.

She’s somewhat shy with direct flirting before you’re official… kinda nervous to ruin whatever dynamic you two had going on to begin with.. but once your feelings are out in the air this woman is getting a medal for her direct communication skills.

“I need you to hold me really tight right now, I’m feeling kind of anxious.”

“I want you to kiss me please! Need to feel your pretty lips”

“If we were alone right now I would have you fully ***** and ********* *** ** ** ****** ****.”

perpetually cold hands.. and she warms them by sticking them in YOUR shirt or even occasionally your pants. Just sticking em in there and then staring at you like she’s doing nothing wrong … staring at you like you’re NOT getting goosebumps on your ass cheeks rn

Once she gets comfortable, Mikasa is CONSTANTLY TEASING YOU RIGHT WHERE IT HURTS.

like it starts light, creating a little inside joke or two, like making fun of the special way you prepare your sandwiches or how you make the bed.

But then you catch her giggling to herself one day and you’re like aww what’s so funny ^_^ and she says she was thinking about that time you embarrassed yourself in front of her parents 😔

But then sometimes if she’s not in the right mood she’ll get all sassy if you tease her back. All “okay but I didn’t say it like that 😒.” Then she’ll pinch you.

She texts like .. full punctuation and everything. At first you thought she was mad at you every time you got her notifications till you got used to it.

She looks KILLER in turtlenecks it’s ridiculous