#// i heart them with all my heart so much so much

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[favefandomimagines]

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

||

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

||

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

♥︎Pick a picture:💕⭐️Channeled messages from your future self⭐️💕

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

⭐️If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!⭐️

💕Masterlist💕

💙Pile 1:

"You are closer than you think to the life you truly desire, just trust the process."

"The change you fear so much is the door that will lead you to what truly belongs to you."

"Do not underestimate the power of patience; what is to come will be much greater than you imagine."

"Your intuition already knows the answer, it is time to listen to it and act with confidence."

"Remember: everything you have overcome has prepared you for what is to come. There is no turning back."

"Sometimes, moving away from the known is necessary to make room for the new and extraordinary."

"The love you give yourself is the first step to attracting what you deserve in all areas of your life."

"It is time to let go of what no longer serves you; the universe has something better in store for you."

"Your personal power is unbreakable. Do not let anyone or anything make you doubt your ability."

"Opportunities are in front of you, you just need to take the first step with faith and courage."

Hi Pile 1! Your future self is so wise and clever, they are in a powerful position for sure. It's time to take the first step you need, you are capable and are ready for what's next!

💖Pile 2:

"The calm before the storm is the sign that something big is coming, get ready to receive it."

"Your efforts have not been in vain. The universe is preparing the ground for your success."

"You don't have to have all the answers now. Sometimes, the most important thing is to trust the path."

"You are breaking free from what was holding you back. Peace and clarity are closer than you think."

"Your energy is aligned with change. Don't resist the inevitable, embrace the transformation."

"The time to heal has come. Emotional release is your first step towards fulfillment."

"The stars have aligned your destiny for a greater purpose, trust that everything happens for a reason."

"It's time to manifest what you want. The universe is listening to your deepest thoughts."

"You are in the process of rebuilding yourself, give it time."

"What seems uncertain now, will become clearer in time. Allow yourself to trust the journey."

Hi pile 2! You are in a transformation process and your future self wants you to know that everything will be fine, just give yourself the time you need and don't push to hard; be gentle with yourself, a big hug for you pile 2.

💕Pile 3:

"Your capacity to achieve great things is far beyond what you imagine. Trust your potential."

"The opportunities you seek are on your way."

"You are ready to receive everything the universe has prepared for you."

"Every challenge you face is an opportunity in disguise. You are being prepared for something much greater."

"The key to success is constant action. Don't stop, the universe is aligning everything for you."

"Doors are opening, and you hold the key. Don't doubt your ability to take advantage of every opportunity."

"Your dreams are valid and attainable. The first step is to believe in them as much as you believe in yourself."

"You are attracting success because you are aligned with your purpose. Keep believing, keep moving forward, the best is yet to come."

"Your capacity to love and create is infinite. Everything you put your heart into doing, becomes art."

"You are exactly where you need to be. Every step you take brings you closer to the person you are destined to be."

Hi pile 3! You are definitely working hard for your dreams and I see that you will be someone very successful! Feel that you are someone artistic, who connects with the most sincere parts of yourself when creating, this will lead you to find your way. Keep going pile 3!

💕💖Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated 💖💕

[disgustingtwitches]

@rememberwren's Sperm donor!Johnny and Husband!Ghost has been stuck in my head for far too long. So here's a quick unedited little thing I wrote for it!

You forgot exactly what you were nervous about. Then again, you usually forget everything when your husband is between your legs.

“Gotta warm you up properly.”

He said earlier to Johnny and you, his large hand rubbing your thigh just a touch too high and making your face hot. 

You're not sure how much “warming up” you needed; he's been at it for God knows how long, and you're dizzy and pretty sure you can't feel your toes anymore. He can be so mean sometimes when he's like this, biting your thighs when you try to push his head away, smiling at how you whimper.

“You know, I'm starting to think you like it when I do that.”

As overstimulated as you are, you whine when he pulls away. You swear you can see the hearts in his eyes when he looks down at you. Gets you right in the heart. 

When he rolls out of bed and walks to the door you suddenly remember why your stomach was in knots earlier; you're about to sleep with his subordinate. No, that's not the right word. Brother in arms? Best friend? Their relationship always seemed more complex than words could describe. There's a soft knock on the door and you look up to see your husband walk in with Johnny in tow. 

Johnny's knees nearly give in at the sight of your body tangled up in the sheets, breathing hard, and skin glistening.

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen.” 

He smiles while unbuckling his pants. Simon hums in agreement and sits next to you, running his fingers up your arm and neck to caress your face. The look in his eyes could melt you right then and there, grounding and reassuring. Everything is going to be alright; it always has been and always will be.

Your eyes shoot back to Johnny, who's crawling over you slowly. You bite back a groan when Simon coos a good girl as you open your legs more, inviting Johnny to settle between them. The difference between your husband's face and the man hovering over you is night and day; Simon all soft and enamored, Johnny all fervid and lustful. 

“Ye ready?” 

Johnny's voice is almost as shaky as his hands, not nervous but almost deliriously aroused. You never had wandering eyes; it seems like it's wrong to even look at him now, but you don't want this to feel unnatural; you want to enjoy this. So you scan his body, toned chest falling and rising fast, strong arms caging you in, blue eyes so intense you have to look away.

“Uh-huh.”

You reply quietly, bucking your hips against his, your most sensitive parts rubbing against his. The gasp you share makes you both chuckle, easing the tension. You run your hands up his arms and wrap them around his neck. When you pull him closer, he follows eagerly, burying his face against the crook of your neck, stubble tickling you. 

“Dinnae have to do this if you don't want to, hen.” 

“No, I want to.” 

Your voice, smaller than you want it to be, makes Johnny's eyes soften. You look over to Simon, he cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow slightly, checking in. You just nod and he nods back. You keep your eyes on Simon while addressing Johnny,

“Ready.”

There's a pause, a shift, and then. You groan and roll your eyes back when he slides in, still facing Simon who blinks fast. Johnny breathes like the air was knocked out of him,

“Jesus…fuck…”

He curses to himself, face still buried at your neck, slowly moving his hips forward until his pelvis meets yours. You whine as he nips your neck and yelp when he punches his hips forward from the sounds you make. Your husband leans over and palms the back of his neck, talking in a low, serious tone that makes you tighten up, 

“Johnny.”

“Yeah, LT?”

“Ease up.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Johnny places a soft kiss where he bit you. It's all so…overwhelmingly intimate. Another man on top of you, grinding at just the right angle, hitting the right spots, all while your husband watches, instructing him. Simon pulls his hand away from Johnny's neck and shifts on the bed, sitting right next to you. Your eyes go wide when you turn to see him palming his erection. Oh. This is okay. This situation is more than okay. Simon fucking loves this. Johnny too. Guess you should throw away any reservations or doubts you had and just embrace this moment. Enjoy it to the fullest. 

Johnny pulls back, face slightly flushed, panting softly,

“She's so wet, Simon. Just so soft and perfect. Prettiest thing I ever saw...” 

You soak in the compliments but tune him out eventually, your attention drifting down to where Johnny slides in and out of you. It's a dreamy sight, really; you look so good together, it kind of reminds you how wonderful you and Simon look together. 

“Looks real nice, doesn't it? Taking me so well, hen.”

Johnny presses his forehead against yours, looking down while you hum in agreement. It's quiet for a moment, save for the occasional pant and moan or slick sounds from between your legs. A rough hand holds your left and another, larger hand grabs your right. It's all so sweaty, so sticky and sweet. So dazed, you barely register the first kiss Johnny plants on your lips. The second one makes your eyes shoot open, staring right at his annoyingly long, brown lashes until he pulls back and opens his eyes, blindingly blue. Your face gets hot, and you pull your hand to your face, your husband's fingers still intertwined with them. He extends his pointer finger to caress your cheek and you turn your face to look up at him. He's so gentle right now like he knows that's what you need from him. 

A smile plays on his face when you open your mouth and slide his finger into your mouth, sucking softly, rolling your eyes back, and moaning softly. You love giving him a show. Love making him melt in your mouth. He nods over to Johnny, whose jaw is slack, breathing hard. When you look at him, it's quite the sight: blue eyes wide and wild, mouth hanging open, and you can see his pulse right underneath his jawline beating wildly. Just fucking delectable. You pull your face away from Simon's hand and smile up at Johnny who groans and chuckles,

“Christ, LT.”

“Focus, Johnny. Ain't done yet.”

There's something feral that flashes in Johnny's eyes, hungry. Eager to please. You or Simon, you're not too sure. But he hooks an arm under your knees and hikes your leg up as far as it'll go, digging into you until you're a whimpering mess under him. His whole body pressed up against you, pinning you down. His mouth pressed right up against your ear, replacing every thought you had with his voice. 

“Right there? Huh? God, tight cunt right here…C'mon... Tell me how good it is…Tell me.”

He repeats the last phrase until you're mindlessly praising him, telling him what he wants to hear. What he needs to hear. You can feel him smile against the skin right under your ear before pressing tender kisses there. 

You're pressed chest to sweaty, hairy chest when you wrap your arms around him tighter, embracing him. All traces of guilt scraped away with Simon's breathy praise. You move one hand around until it rests on your husband's big thigh, and he tenses up under your touch. 

“C'mon love, give Johnny something real nice. He's been such a trooper, yeah?” 

You nod into Johnny's shoulder, breathless. 

“Uh-huh,”

It hits you hard and fast. Almost unexpectedly. Hearing a small moan escape Simon always sent you over the edge, though, always a rare moment when he lets himself relax and be vulnerable. 

Spasming and moaning under Johnny had his hips moving frantically, desperate for his own release. Biting his shoulder had him crashing right into it, digging deep into you until his hips still. He crushed you under his weight, licking the sweat off your neck. Simon pushed his head away though. 

“Don't forget, she's my wife Johnny.

His voice isn't harsh, it's almost soft. His large frame leans down and presses a tender kiss against your lips. Then another. And another. All while singing velvety praises between each one. For a moment, you forget about the other man in the room lying right on top of you. Until he pulls away, sliding out of you. Almost makes you whine til he starts pressing his lips against your sternum and stomach. Head in the clouds, you feel like you're floating. Suspended in this moment of pure bliss. 

“You got one more in you?”

Simon asks. Before you can answer, Johnny responds eagerly. 

“Always.”

[eupheme]

Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!

ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!

casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader

1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.

It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.

It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.

The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.

You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.

Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.

But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.

Because you know it’s not.

Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?

A legend.

A lone wolf.

Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.

And you’re - you.

So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.

It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.

And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.

You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.

Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.

The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.

And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.

He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.

And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.

You think you must have assumed right.

He doesn’t correct you.

Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.

His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.

A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.

“Lemme get you another.”

You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.

It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.

“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”

“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.

You never should have told her about that.

Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.

Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.

She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”

Your teeth worry at your lower lip.

“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.

MJ knows how much you like him.

Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.

Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.

“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”

It’s easier, this way.

Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.

The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.

Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.

The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.

You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.

But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.

You suppose he must have remembered where he was.

“You wanna come up?”

He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.

A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.

“That what you want, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows raise, “Yeah. I do, I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”

He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.

Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.

“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”

His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.

Your stomach drops.

“What do you mean?”

Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”

A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.

“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”

Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.

“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.

“Now, why would you think that?”

You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”

“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.

A sigh, when your head dips.

Unable to say it out loud.

“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”

A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”

Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.

“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”

Your head shakes.

“Wanna be yours.”

It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.

His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.

Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.

There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.

“Good.”

His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.

Walking you backwards, into the dark.

“The let me show you exactly how I feel.”

thank you so much, again!! 💖

[flwrstqr]

୨୧ ENHYPEN WHEN YOU DON'T KISS THEM BACK

✷ bf!enhypen x f ! r 🖥️ tw: skinship petnames && 782wc. — fluff ★ dani's notes: woah hai guys.. hope u guys smash that like button :P

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

heeseung leans in, eyes twinkling with that soft look he has only to you, and presses his lips gently to yours, but you don't kiss him back. he pulls away, pouting, eyebrows slightly raised. "baby, what happened?" he murmurs, voice all warm and honeyed. you can't help but laugh at the confusion on his face, and he whines a little, wrapping his arms tighter around you. "don't you love me anymore?" he teases, nuzzling his nose against yours, his hands moving up to cradle your face. "kiss me back, please," he whispers, his voice barely a breath, but filled with so much sweetness it makes your heart flutter. finally, you give in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he beams like he's won the world.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆

jay leans in, lips brushing against yours in that slow, tender way he always does, but you decide to play a little game, pulling back just enough to make him notice. his eyes open, brow furrowing as he studies you. "really? you're gonna leave me hanging like that, sweetheart?" he says, voice dipping low with a playful pout. he pulls you closer, hands resting on your waist as he tilts his head, trying to catch your lips again. when you keep dodging, he lets out a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. "come on, baby, don’t tease," he murmurs. the second you finally give in and kiss him back, his face lights up, a satisfied grin breaking through. "that’s better," he whispers

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍

jake leans in with that smirk, his lips hovering over yours, but you decide to hold back, teasing him just a little. he pauses, eyes narrowing as he catches on, and a grin spreads across his face. "oh, so that's how we're playing, huh?" he whispers. his hand slides up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin as he leans even closer, barely an inch between you. "come on, gorgeous," he coaxes, "don’t make me beg." when you still don’t budge, he chuckles, dropping a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before resting his lips just above yours. "one last chance," he murmurs, eyes twinkling. finally, you give in, kissing him back, and he beams, whispering, “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

sunghoon blinks in confusion, pulling back slightly as you stop returning his kiss. his hands still rest on your waist, fingers gentle yet firm, and he tilts his head. “angel?” he whispers, his voice soft, almost as if he’s worried he did something wrong. you can see him searching your face, trying to figure out what happened. he’s so used to you melting into his kisses that this pause catches him off guard. he gently brushes his thumb along your cheek, his lips pulling into a slight pout. “did i do something?” he asks, genuinely confused but adorable, his cheeks a faint pink. you can’t help but smile, reaching up to cup his face. “just teasing you, handsome.” at that, his expression shifts, a relieved smile spreading across his face as he pulls you close again, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

sunoo leans in, lips brushing yours softly, but when you don’t kiss him back, his brow furrows, playful confusion glinting in his eyes. "y/n," he murmurs, thumb tracing little circles on your cheek, "are you really not gonna kiss me back?" you just smile, watching the way his pout deepens, clearly on the verge of being a little dramatic. he moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “c’mon, don’t be mean to me,” he mumbles, voice teasing yet so soft it makes your heart skip. finally, you give in, pressing your lips back to his in a quick, gentle kiss that leaves him grinning like he won something. “there’s my sweet girl,” he says, resting his forehead against yours

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

he presses a soft, playful kiss to your lips, expecting the usual warm response, but you just smile at him, unmoving, eyes glinting with a teasing mischief he immediately picks up on. "oh, we're playing this game?" he grins, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in even closer, brushing his lips just shy of yours, eyes locked with yours, a silent challenge. "come on, pretty girl, i know you want to," he whispers, voice smooth, brushing a stray hair from your face. he’s in no rush, waiting with that knowing smile, fully confident you’ll cave. you hold out a beat longer, and with a soft laugh, you close the distance, meeting his lip. he pulls back, looking satisfied. "told you so."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

he leans in, expecting your lips to meet his, but when you hold back, riki pulls away, an amused smirk already spreading across his face. "oh? ignoring me now?" he teases, his arms slipping around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you can't escape. "are you sure you don't want to kiss me? not even a little bit?" he asks, leaning so close his nose brushes yours, his eyes dancing with playful mischief. he inches closer, his lips grazing your cheek, purposely missing just to drive you crazy. “you’re really strong, you know. i might actually give up,” he sighs dramatically, though his grin betrays him. you barely last another second before finally closing the distance, and he laughs softly. “knew it. you’re way too predictable, princess.”

[kairoot]

TOUCH STARVED ────── 엔하이픈

ׂ ִ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝖿 — 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝑓𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧，𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 — 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁，𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌，𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀．

ℒ𝑎𝑛𝑖 𝒮𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠．── 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁－𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗒 🤷🏽‍♀️ 𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽．．𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌，𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌，＆ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽！

⊹ HEESEUNG．．won’t be that surprised when he realizes that you’re always craving his touch. the way you lean into him more when his arms are wrapped around you. or when you hold onto him a little longer if he’s hugging you. he always has his hands on you in some type of way.

when you’re shopping around in the mall, his hands are always placed on your lower back or his chest touching your back when he’s peeking over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at.

he’s very observant so he knows whenever you want to be close to him.

“c’mere,” heeseung whispered, patting the spot beside him in your bed. you walked over to your side, sliding underneath the blanket to lay next to him.

he pulled you closer to him, hand immediately sliding underneath your shirt to rest against your waist. you felt your face heat up at the contact, wondering how he knew you wanted to be close to him.

your favorite film played on the tv as you and heeseung settled into bed for the evening. his hand moved under your shirt, caressing your skin softly.

you caught yourself throwing your leg across him, scooting in close enough to nearly suffocate him. you turned toward him, planting kisses all over his face.

he chuckled lightly, “ ‘m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

you ignored him, continuing to place your kisses everywhere until you reached his lips, pecking them softly.

⊹ JAY．．is very attentive and will notice right away. he always keeps his hand on you, especially when you’re in public. i don’t think he’s a super touchy person but he does hold your hand a lot and plants kisses on the back of it when he feels like it.

he also has a habit of resting his hand on your leg while he’s driving, which makes you blush every time.

or even when you’re cooking dinner instead of him and he’ll come behind you, resting his hands on your hips and pull you close.

“smells good,” he said, burying his face in your neck.

“i’m making your favorite.” you smiled softly, continuing to stir in ingredients for the meal.

“ ‘m talking about you.” he said, inhaling slowly, taking in your scent. you blushed faintly, leaning into his chest as you continued to cook supper.

he placed a small kiss on the side of your neck, hugging you tighter when he noticed you shuffling closer to him. you felt your heart skip a beat when his hands tightened on your waist, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

“don’t burn the food or we might have to skip dinner,” he whispered playfully, placing another kiss right below your ear.

⊹ JAKE．．is already a touchy person, in my opinion. but when he sees your touch-starved nature, he thinks it’s adorable. now you both can’t keep your hands to yourself and he loves that you have the same love language as him.

he’s definitely touching you 24/7. when you’re sleeping, his arm is thrown across you. when you’re brushing your teeth together, his hands is resting on your side. or if you’re reading and he’s on his phone, he’s probably resting his hand on your lower back, rubbing circles there.

and you always end up in his lap, no matter what you’re doing. whenever you’re sitting on top of him, he feels like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. he just loves having you close to him. but he knows you like it just as much as he does which is why he likes to tease you about it.

“couldn’t stay away from me, huh?” he murmurs so only you could hear him in the quiet room. jake had invited his friends over for a movie night but you didn’t care about them being in the same room. you just wanted to be close to him.

you roll your eyes, causing him to chuckle softly as he planted soft kisses along your shoulder, one of his hands coming to run up and down your back.

“i’m just messin’ with you, baby. i love having you near me, you know that.” he whispered a little too close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

⊹ SUNGHOON．．is not a huge fan of pda, but when you’re in private, he can’t resist you. how you grab his hand and put it back on your waist when he walks away from a hug. or when you pull him in closer for another kiss.

there’s some teasing touches here and there cause he likes to mess with you.

but when you’re out in public, he’s much more reserved. his hand will hold yours, fingers intertwining in a quiet, protective gesture, but that’s about the extent of it. he likes to be close to you, but he respects the boundaries of the world around you both. he’ll often stand behind you, his presence a constant shield that lets you feel safe and loved without needing to flaunt it.

that doesn’t mean he minds the way you touch him, though. if anything, it’s the little moments of affection that he adores. the way you play with the hem of his shirt when you’re sitting close, or how your hand often finds its way to his leg when you’re watching a movie. and the kisses—you give them often, like it’s your way of showing him just how much you care. he absolutely doesn’t mind. in fact, he looks forward to them, counting on them as a form of comfort in his day.

“how was your day today?” he asks softly, his fingers stroking your hair, the rhythm slow and soothing as you cuddle against him. you shift closer to him, a smile tugging at your lips as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace.

“it was pretty good. especially since i got to come home to you,” you murmur, your voice light with affection.

he hums in contentment, his hand now rubbing your arm, the motion almost protective, like he’s holding onto you even when he’s not touching you. the space between you closes as he shifts, giving you more room to nestle against him, and you do, fitting perfectly against his side.

“best part of my day, too,” he admits, his voice thick with quiet emotion. he sighs, content, his hand finding its place on your back, fingers tracing the outline of your spine. with you this close, he feels a sense of peace he can’t quite explain, but he doesn’t need to. you’re here, and that’s all that matters to him.

⊹ SUNOO．．would be incredibly affectionate with you but he’s also another teasing one. he gets excited when you lean into him, wanting him to pull you in or caress you in some type of way.

when you’re alone, he’s all over you, giving you the kisses you want. he also finds subtle ways to touch you— his hand brushing against yours under the table, fingers tracing over your skin when he’s close. or leaning in a little too close when you’re talking, his breath grazing your ear just to see the way you react.

he might wrap his arms wrap his arms around your waist suddenly or press kisses to your collarbone, lips lingering just a moment longer than expected to make your heart race.

his playful side would come out when he sees your reactions— maybe a little blush or the way you shiver when his fingers graze your skin.

he also loves giving you the biggest hugs when you’re like this, not letting you go until you’ve completely melted into him.

“babe, you can let go of me now..” you mumbled into his chest, your arms still wrapped around him since he wouldn’t let go of you.

“don’t you wanna stay like this for a little longer, baby?” he asked, stroking your hair gently.

⊹ JUNGWON．．would be a bit reserved at first but once he sees how much you want to be closer to him, he opens his arms— literally.

when you’re alone, he’s likely to be very affectionate in small but meaningful ways. he’d start by holding your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours whenever you’re close. his touch would be calm, steady, like he’s checking in with you, making sure you’re okay with the closeness.

he might rest his hand on your shoulder or gently pull you into a hug, the embrace lingering as if he never wants to let go. his kisses would be soft but frequent, always searching for new ways to show you that he’s there for you, whether it’s a gentle kiss on your forehead or one that lingers for a moment

jungwon would also be playful with his touch, especially once he noticed how much you crave it. he might give your arm a light squeeze when he’s teasing you or playfully nudge you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he does.

his teasing would have a softness to it, never overbearing, always with a hint of affection. he’d enjoy seeing the way you react to his touches—the way your body relaxes when he’s close or how you melt when he presses a kiss to your cheek.

⊹ NI-KI．．would be a little shy at first (but would never admit that). he wouldn’t really know how to react other than being flustered. then it turned into something he teased you about. but he also realized that he loves being in close contact with you.

when you're alone, ni-ki would likely be all over you, wanting to make up for the affection he feels you're missing. his touches would be possessive in the sweetest way, like he just can't help but want to pull you closer. his hands would always be on you— grabbing your waist, holding your hand, resting on the small of your back, or playfully brushing his fingers over your skin.

his kisses would be deep and slow, lingering a little longer each time, as though he never wants to let you go. he might even tease you with kisses, pulling away just when you need them the most, only to lean back in, smirking when he catches the longing in your eyes.

he likes placing small butterfly kisses all over your face, making you whine about how you wanted a real kiss.

he definitely hugs you from the back a lot, only cause he likes the height difference and he loves hugging you. or when you’re studying, he’ll have his hand resting on your knee, rubbing gently as you work.

when you cuddle him, he pulls you on top of him sometimes, knowing that you love being super close to him.

“comfortable?” he’d mumble into your neck, playfully nipping at your skin, his hands resting on your waist.

you nodded, snuggling into him further, not planning on moving for a while.

★ ★ ★

💌 : might delete ts cause im half asleep lolololol (it’s almost 5am)

( ✉️ ) — 𝓣𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @elysianiki @mmygnolia @nshmuras @who-tf-soddhi — send an ask to join

( 📺 ) — 𝓝𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤: @k-films @en-diaries

[gojosprettyprincess]

Both are twenty, degradation n praise, overstimulation. reader is cockdrunk n has a high sex drive :3 Not proofread!!!.

˖ ࣪⊹

“S’good Yujiii Soo good, Mmm! Can feel your cock throbbing inside of me, ohh fuckkk!” you moaned out through gritted teeth, too caught up enjoying how deliciously his achy, abused cock was repeatedly curving into your sensitive g-spot over and over just the exact way you intended it to. You can’t even remember how long it’s been and well frankly you don’t really care. Too distracted by the overwhelming pleasure you're receiving by frantically bouncing your ass on his swollen cock.

“F-fuckkk, you’re so greedy baby Goddd, you look so sexy like this!” he huffed, letting out breathless curse—his fingernails digging into the plushy sides of your bouncing ass as goosebumps and adrenaline coursed through his bulging veins. He’s trying his very fucking best to keep up with you but God you were killing him. It got so bad that you’re more of a filthy sex fiend than he was in the past few overestimating days. Not that he was complaining but the way you’d randomly grab him by the shirt—fucking wrinkling it and pulling him into the clustered janitor closet just to feel his hard dick in your slobbering cunt at school with him pushed up against the cool wall and you manically throwing your bouncing ass back at him eagerly like little cock-hungry slut—forcing every last drop of cum from his thick balls to drain out into your horny pussy then pouncing on him four more times throughout the day at home has become a bit overwhelming…he’s trying his best to keep up with your crazy ass sex drive but fuck he was shooting blanks at this point.

His sweat-covered pinky bangs tickled his forehead as the moonlight from the illumining window glistened onto his milky abs. He bit his lips so many times that he probably ruined his gums by now, in a futile attempt to restrain his perverted urges at the way your tits were bouncing in fast circles. He’s sooo tempted to grab and fondle them but it’s like he can’t even control his own fucking body.

“Ohooo fuck! You’re stretching me so good around you Yuji, fuck I love you—Looove your cock so muchhh baby!” You cried out, tears welling up in your eyes as his pink tuffs of slick covered pubic hair grazes against your sticky clit—making the pleasure even more intense as more and more creamy rings formed at the base of his pretty cock.

They were hearts in Yuji’s eyes seeing just how much his little horny slut of a girlfriend was creaming on him, seeing you so desperate and addicted to his cock like a brainless zombie whore unlocked something primal inside of him that he never thought existed. He fucking loved being your human dildo to fuck yourself on, the thought of it made his cock throb feverishly right against your gushing, gummy walls.

“Jesus–mmmph! You’re such a nasty slut. Ohh shit-, is my cock all you ever fucking think about baby? bet you couldn't even last a day without my cock being up this needy, little pussy yeah?” His groans along with his filthy mouth filled the air as he gropes both of your fleshy ass cheeks—his fingers purposely kneading into it pervertedly as he feels you up like a creep.

You felt the mushroom tip of his length brushing against the depths of your cervix as you clamped around him harder, you playfully smirked down at him as you bent down slightly towards him to grab his biceps—moaning sweetly as you felt them flexing against your touch. “Y-yess! Need your cock inside of me at all times Yuji, gonna make me lose my mind, hnngh!”

“Yeahhh? My cock making you that dumb baby??” His sultry voice is weighed with exhaustion as he grants you a fucked-out smile. “Yuji, Yuji m’gonna cum again, fuckfuckfuck yessss!”

You continued bouncing faster and faster—grinding your hips against him fervently in the process to make it even more intense causing you to spasm around his girth, you can’t see it, but you are 100% sure his entire cock is covered in your cream. You can feel it.

Your head falls back, the strands of your hair cascading down like a waterfall. your lips parting to release loud, needy moans that mingled in the air as Yuji gazed up at you in awe, seeing you like this was one of his favorite things. You were such a mindless slut for his dick and he enjoyed it.

“I- m’cummming!” You cried out in a certain tone that was like filthy music to his ears, your cunt pulsated around his jumpy cock as streams of liquid gushed out of you, spurting every fucking where, on the bed sheets, spattering on Yuji’s abs, his thighs everywhere. Your body trembles as you try to process everything. You fucking came and squirted at the same time.

“Did you just-“

“I-“ was all you could let out before you felt the wind getting knocked out of you as Yuji suddenly gripped your branded ass that’s filled with his handprints and lifted his legs up a bit, thrusting with constrained force and fucking his throbbing, soaked cock into you with vigor. The lewd, nasty sound of “plah plah plah!” reverberated throughout the room your hands clutching the pillows tightly beside him, overwhelmed by the intense sensations.

“Yujiii, stop fuck! Too much—tooo muchh” you screamed in a frenzy. your thighs shivering as he relentlessly thrust deeper, splitting open your cunt even more with his animalistic pace. His pistoning cock brushes further against your sweet spots as it twitches inside of you. His poor, fucked out cock sooo desperate to cum.

“Such a lil fucking slut for squirting on me like that baby—God I’m gonna stuff you sooo full after this, it’ll be entwined into your slutty fucking brains”

You were so fucked out you couldn’t even fucking register what the hell he was babbling about.

It was so fucking nasty and hot, the scent of raw sex filled the air as both of your moans echoed throughout the room, at this point your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull in ecstasy as you were being overstimulated, your pussy pouring more juices onto his cock as beads of sweat glistened on his entire body.

“M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming Godddd love this fucking pussy!!” His hoarse voice exclaimed as he bit his lips, thick gooey ropes of warm cum filling up your womb as the two of you cried out in unison. You were so full, every inch of your pussy was stuffed so full of just Yuji, Yuji, Yuji. You’d be surprised if you weren’t actually braindead from his cock by now.

Your body collapsed on his sticky skin and you landed on his toned chest. both of you attempt to regulate your breaths as you cockwarmed his soft cock. Unfortunately Succumbing to exhaustion, you both drifted off to sleep in that position but within the next three hours, you were fucking him again.

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

summary: a small but very happy incident.

warnings: none

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 2.2k

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- when you ask them for an absurd amount of money as a prank

SCOUPS:

will transfer you the money, no questions asked. unless it's like an insane amount of money - like enough to buy a car - then he'd be concerned and ask why you need it. are you in trouble? are you being blackmailed? what can he do? he's ready to assist you in anyway possible and will be sulky when he finds out it's a prank. relieved, but a little sad that you'd even feel the need to test his loyalty to you.

JEONGHAN:

his immediate reaction is no. have you guys seen that interview where one of the members (i think it was dino? mingyu? my memory is so bad) said that jeonghan doesn't play when it comes to money and it lowkey stingy? yeah that. he'll definitely be hesitant and might even just flat out say no. extremely proud when you reveal it was a prank all along. i knew it was a prank, baby~ the student can't fool the teacher~

JOSHUA:

his immediately worried something terrible has happened. it's uncommon for you to ask him for money, usually its small enough sums that you don't even have to ask - you have his card anyways. stressed and annoyed when you tell him its all a prank. ai~ you know my weak heart cannot take you stressing me out.

JUN:

a little confused why you're asking him for money. he's the type to not catch on, you being in danger isn't the immediate thought when you ask him for 300 thousand dollars. will not react when you tell him it was a prank, the request for the money hasn't even properly computed in his head yet.

HOSHI:

he's going to complain he doesn't have that much money even though we all know he does. he'll agree to transfer it to you, but will whine and nag the whole time that this is his hard earned money! he loves you but why are you taking it away! another type to get sulky when you tell him its a prank and you don't actually need the money.

WONWOO:

ummm...why? he'll ask a shit ton of questions before agreeing, he needs to know why, when, what, where, who? all the details. this is his money after all, he needs to know where its all going. it gets to the point where you give up, just telling him its a prank cause his questioning isn't making it fun anymore. he tsks and asks if you have too much time on your hands to be pranking him.

WOOZI:

the money is in your bank account before you even finish asking. he's lowkey surprised you haven't asked sooner, he's always open with how much he's making and constantly tells you he'd just rather you guys have a joint bank account so he can spoil you. refuses to let you return the money once you admit its a prank. he makes more than enough anyways.

MINGHAO:

another one that's immediately worried. money's never been a topic you guys have ever talked about so he knows there must be something wrong. asks a boatload of questions trying to make sure you're okay and not getting scammed online or something. ends up just chiding you for even falling into a trap where you need that much money and narrows his eyes at you when you tell him its a prank. he thinks you're crazy and has too much time on your hands.

DK:

poor baby's scared. sure he makes a lot of money but he's never needed that much. eyes are popping out of his head when you tell him the sum of what you need. he agrees, of course, anything for you, but his hands are shaking as he reaches for his wallet. dramatically flops onto the floor when you tell him its a prank, begging you to never do that again - he might be rich but in his mind he's got like 5 cents in his bank account.

MINGYU:

blinks. pretends to think about it, but really he's been waiting for this day. the only possibility in his mind as to why you need the money is only for good things, and who is he to not spoil his baby? begs you to take his card anyways when you tell him its a prank. it's literally the only reason why i work, baby. just take my card.

SEUNGKWAN:

he's dramatic, screeching about how that's an insane amount of money and that he wouldn't even drop that kind of money on himself- and he loves himself very very much! calms down and genuinely sits your ass down to ask why you even need it. feels extremely betrayed when you tell him its a prank and vows to get revenge.

VERNON:

he sighs. he knows this trend and he's not having it. baby, you know i'd do anything for you right. you've got me like wrapped around your finger. you literally don't need to test my loyalty. apologizes when you get sulky over him already knowing the prank and offers to let you try again - this time he'll play along. ohmygod that's a lot of money are you being blackmailed? shopping in the black market? getting us a house in Bali? shrugs when you complain about his reaction being ingenuine and over the top. there is only so much he can do.

DINO:

his jaw is dropping at how large the sum is. yeah, he's got that money, and he'll show you his bank account just to prove it. but he'll start listing out what everything is for. that sum's set aside for our house, that one's to send our kids to school - we never said how many we'd have but i set aside enough to four university tuitions, and- you'll cut him off cause he's going to make you cry with how thoughtful he is. scolds him for ruining your prank. prank? he's confused. what do you mean prank? he got so invested in telling you everything he's saved up for your shared future he kinda forgot the original question.

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)

Warnings: Blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol

Read it on AO3

Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.

You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.

One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 

"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.

At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.

"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.

Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.

This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.

"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."

She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."

You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"

Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.

"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.

Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."

You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.

As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.

"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."

"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."

The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.

She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."

Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."

Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.

"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.

"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."

"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."

You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"

The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."

"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.

-

The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. Your hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.

"You still awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.

There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.

"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."

"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.

Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.

"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."

"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.

-

That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.

When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."

You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."

She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."

You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.

By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.

Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"

You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.

"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.

"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.

She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."

And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"

You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."

She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."

And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.

Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 

Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.

Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.

You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."

That was all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.

You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.

She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.

You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.

With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, coming hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 

"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.

"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started

[ak319]

Yan Regent Consort x fem reader

Headcanon

(Warnings: This story contains matriarchal themes, fem dom such as mpreg, fem dominated world, role reversal, and BXG pairing! Yes, it's a boy x girl, so don't interact if you are not comfortable!!)

Xu Junlai was a boy who held different roles in the eyes of others, son to some, friend to some, an object of admiration or envy to others. He was born into a family of five sons and two daughters. His mother, Xu Huang, served as a minister in the court, while his father, Xu... well, he wasn’t married into the Xu family, he was merely a concubine of Junlai’s mother. Because of this, Junlai never received familial love, not from his step-siblings and not even from his mother, who was always either too busy or uninterested in family matters. Her absence from his life gave his brothers free rein to treat him as they pleased.

His oldest sibling was his sister, Xu Tai, whom everyone feared. She didn’t particularly dote on him, but she maintained order in the household whenever she returned from her training and service in the army. Xu Tai had high ambitions for the country, aspiring one day to become a commander or much better a General. His other sister, Xu Ai, was studying to be a scholar; she was a year older than Junlai, who himself was the second youngest in the family.

Junlai had long learned that if he didn’t stand up for himself and speak for himself, he would live a life of misery and eventually die alone, perhaps with no one to mourn his passing. So, he did speak for himself when necessary. A hard life had forced him into this role. It wasn’t as if anyone liked him before, or that he had earned any respect, so what was there to lose?

He had passions that he quietly pursued, calligraphy, reading books, sneakily borrowing them from Tai’s library at the estate and, most importantly, dancing. Yet he was made fun of, and ridiculed for his interests.

“Your father was a prostitute, and you doing this seems to scream that you are on the same path. You disgrace,” his stepfather, Xu Fen, sneered. But his words never truly hurt Junlai.

“But your sons are learning such skills too. Are they on the same path?”

“THEY ARE NOT! They are doing that so that when the time arises, they will be presented to the court for the new Empress and her harem. That is where their skills will shine; being a Xu, that is inevitable. You, however…”

“Mother may not have married my father, but she openly acknowledged that I have been granted the name Xu.”

“So? What are you--oh--so you want to enter the court? That might be the funniest thing I’ve heard this week. Part of the reason your presence here is sometimes bearable. Have you seen yourself? There is nothing graceful about you, such venomous features, that blank face, eyes like a devil’s. You are someone any woman would avoid, not bed.” Fen’s cackles echoed in the distance as Junlai stood in the garden, his usual blank expression firmly in place.

The court? But he didn’t desire any of that. That was a life of hell. As if my life is better now... Harem or no harem, at least he could demonstrate his skills and take a jab at his useless brothers. Perhaps that was the most thrilling part of it all. There was absolutely no chance that an Empress or even the Emperor Dowager would allow the son of a prostitute to enter the harem.

So, Junlai practised night after night, in the empty hall that felt both sacred and suffocating. The flickering candles cast shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls, whispering secrets of long-forgotten elegance. The sound of anklets chimed like distant bells, while the rustle of silken fabric filled the air, wrapping around him like a lover’s embrace. In the dim light, his body became a fluid extension of art, each movement imbued with a haunting beauty that could draw anyone into his graceful orbit. And perhaps, just perhaps, the voice that emerged from his lips was powerful enough to ensnare even the coldest of hearts.

But one fateful night, when he miraculously received permission from his mother to join the ceremony, everything changed. Three of his brothers discovered him lost in his usual routine, an ethereal vision in the half-light. As always, he expected their laughter, their scorn, but no... that night, the hall, once a sanctuary, transformed into a chamber of horrors.

Instead of melodies, the air was filled with his screams as they pinned him down, the laughter of his brothers echoing like a dark symphony. They poured scalding water over his feet, the pain searing through him, brutal and unrelenting--just a week before the ceremony.

═════ ◈ ═════

The day of the ceremony arrived, and you, the new Empress, had only been on the throne for a year after successfully defeating your sisters for the throne. However you were overwhelmed by the throng of men entering your court, you sat in silence, your mind already planning the next day's work while subtly noting the movements and behaviours of your court members.

The musical festivities began, likely your father's favorite part, as it allowed him to exert his influence over the affairs of the men. You had little energy to deal with such trivialities, and the classification of men in this way unsettled you. Your mother was deeply involved in it all, and you loathed the thought of it.

"Those are the sons of the Xu family, good-looking, aren't they?" your father remarked, his voice dripping with expectation. Your head snapped to his direction, and for a fleeting moment, you glanced at the display before you.

“Um, yes,” you replied, your tone devoid of enthusiasm.

Your father internally rolled his eyes at your lacklustre response. You might have bedded a few men and have a son with one of the concubines, but it was clear you weren’t taking any of them seriously. 'This idiot daughter of mine, clearly not worried about not having an heir still. By now your mother would have had three-'

"They came for you, so at least enjoy it a bit. If you prefer any changes, the music, the dance-"

"It's fine, Father. It's fine."

You granted your approval to Xu Huang in the end, an honest minister in your eyes, someone even your mother trusted. Her daughter, Tai, was a formidable warrior, perhaps the first to impress you with her skills.

As dinner commenced, no one anticipated the doors to swing open once more. A lone figure stepped into the hall, drawing everyone's attention, including yours. He was slender, his long hair tousled—surprisingly beautiful even in such disarray. Those eyes of his, empty yet hauntingly deep, bore into yours with an intensity that both intrigued and unsettled you.

His walk was seductive yet exuded an aura of defeat and determination. Silence enveloped the hall, a palpable tension as he stood in the centre, commanding attention. That’s when you noticed his feet, bare and crimson. You were certain that if you looked closer, you would see the dark stains of blood marring his skin.

It felt as though the entire court was holding its breath, waiting for you to question him. Just then, you caught the whisper of Xu Huang, “Son…” from her seat a few feet away.

Her son?

"Are you... Xu’s son?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued.

He nodded.

“Um--your Majesty, he was sick, so he couldn't perform earlier, although his name was registered on the list by me…” Xu Huang explained, her voice steady yet tinged with concern. You responded with a curt nod, your mind racing.

“If you are sick, then you shouldn’t be here,” you asserted, a protective instinct rising within you. You were certain the sickness plagued his feet. There was no way you would allow him to dance under such conditions.

“I want to dance,” he replied, his voice challenging and unwavering.

The spark in his tone caught you off guard. What an odd boy...

“Very well. Then do. I would like to see you dance,” you commanded, a blend of intrigue fluttering in your chest

“Your Majes-” Xu Huang began, but your glare silenced her immediately.

“Begin.”

As the sounds of the pipa and hulusi filled the hall, an almost electric hush fell over the audience. Everyone shifted their attention from their meals to the boy dancing, his presence so captivating that even your father, Wang Hua, sat bewildered. A simmering anger brewed within him as he grappled with his own intrigue. Are you seriously interested in him?

Though Hua possessed some knowledge about the boy, witnessing the fluidity and artistry of his dance made those thoughts melt away. Junlai moved as if in a trance, each motion a hauntingly beautiful expression that stirred something deep within you. The performance was mesmerizing, drawing you into a world that felt both ethereal and painfully real.

The only glimmer of envy and fury came from Junlai’s own brother and step-father, their faces twisted in disdain as they seethed at the spectacle before them. Even the blood that dripped from Junlai’s feet onto the glass-like floor seemed to only heighten their ire. They couldn’t maintain your gaze for even a moment, while Junlai seemed to command the room effortlessly, as if reigning over it with merely a flick of his wrist.

As the final echoes of Junlai’s performance faded, your ears, now deprived of the boy’s beautiful voice, were met once again with a profound silence that enveloped the hall.

Junlai stood with his gaze cast down, a picture of humility, while you rose from the podium, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd, their eyes wide with curiosity about what would unfold next. To your surprise, the boy barely flinched as you stood before him, towering over his slight frame.

“Name?” you inquired, your voice steady.

“Junlai,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And who did this to you...?” You leaned closer, searching his eyes for the truth.

His neutral gaze met yours, and you sensed a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior.

“People... whom I would rather not talk about on such a glorious day... a day for you, my Majesty.” He lowered himself in a respectful bow, his head tilting downward, yet his posture remained defiantly graceful.

“Is that so...?” you mused, glancing at Naun, your attendant, who stood discreetly behind a pillar to your left. She nodded subtly, understanding the unspoken command in your gaze.

This boy not only is now part of your harem but...your choice for the night.

You were resolute, you would not entertain the other sons of the Xu family. What need had you for them? Junlai’s dance eclipsed all of theirs combined, a testament to his raw talent and spirit. You were not greedy, you simply sought the best. And he was not only the best but also intriguingly peculiar, a captivating boy you were eager to indulge in and explore further.

As you crawled on top of him, Junlai had been cleaned and prepared for your gaze, yet a small part of you missed his disheveled appearance, the wild, untamed beauty that spoke of his struggles. You soothed yourself with the reminder that he would soon return to that captivating state.

“When I asked you about the culprits, you didn’t name them. You don’t want me to punish them?” you murmured, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek, relishing the softness of his skin as he leaned into your rough hand.

“But you already have... by choosing me,” he replied, a hint of defiance in his voice. You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and rich. “You are... something, you know. I have never encountered a boy like you... but I always wanted to.”

“I never wanted this... to be in the bed of an empress, in her harem, but here I am…” His words hung in the air, laced with a surprising confidence. Something about you made him bold enough to voice such thoughts. You didn’t seem as cold and cruel as the whispers suggested, those comparisons to your mother fading in the warmth of his gaze.

Your deep chuckle reverberated against his neck, sending shivers coursing through his body. “Oh, how lucky I am then. More fortunate than any empress, for having caught you.” You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes, searching for the flicker of fear, but finding only intrigue. “Being in a harem means being mine, and I take care of what I own.”

“Do you fear me, Junlai?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “You should...."

His heart raced at the challenge in your tone. “I don’t fear you, your Majesty. I only fear what I might become under your rule,” he replied, daring to meet your intense gaze.

“Ah, but isn’t that the thrill of it all?” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing tantalizingly against his ear as you spoke. A gasp left his plump lips as you nibbled on it.

Junlai’s breath quickened as your gaze pierced into him, as if you were seeing not just the boy he was but the depths of his soul. The air thickened with an intoxicating blend of fear and desire. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, enveloping him in a cocoon of both safety and peril.

Your fingers danced down his arm, tracing delicate patterns that ignited his skin, setting his nerves alight. Junlai's breath hitched as he felt the heat of your body press against him, a heady mix of power and vulnerability.

“Do you see how beautifully broken you are?” you continued, your voice low and mesmerizing.

Junlai felt the walls around his heart tremble, caught in the magnetic pull of your words. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the challenge now tinged with uncertainty.

“Everything.” Your lips curled into a wicked smile, a promise of the chaos to come. “I want your loyalty, your obedience, and most importantly, your heart. I will not only keep you in my harem, I will make you my most cherished treasure.”

As you leaned closer again, your lips tantalizingly brushing against his, he could feel the weight of your intentions, his robe being done deftly by your rough fingers. “Now, are you ready to dance for me?” you asked, your eyes glinting with mischief and hunger."

Junlai nodded, a flicker of excitement igniting within him. At that moment, he was no longer just a boy marked by pain, he was a dancer, ready to twirl and leap into the unknown, to be claimed by you.

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai sat in the veranda, gazing out at the distant mountains with a forlorn expression, his slender fingers tapping absently on the polished wooden rail. Though the quarters designated for the favored concubine were lavish, adorned with silks and priceless porcelain, the space felt hollow without you. If only he could give you a daughter, the coveted title of consort would be his. The thought flitted through his mind like an unreachable dream. And yet, as the days stretched into months, it was your absence that gnawed at him, leaving him restless and aching.

God, when would you return from the campaign? Two months had passed, each day heavier than the last. He endured the whispers, and the scorn from the other concubines who mocked him for his damaged feet, but he bore it all without flinching. He knew you valued him for his skill, his grace, the things that went beyond mere perfection. You had appointed the empire's finest healers to tend to him, a silent reassurance that he still held a place in your heart.

Even the Emperor Dowager, shrewd and discerning, seemed to favour him, perhaps because he respected his daughter's choices or was mesmerized by his art. Either way, his endorsement granted him a measure of safety within the harem’s hostile world. And yet, safety was far from his mind. He spent sleepless nights worrying about you, imagining the dangers you might face, each possible harm a dagger in his chest. His own safety meant nothing if you were not there, by his side, safe and triumphant. He danced in the empty hall , every night, all night even. His gaze at the marble wall at the end, imagining you sitting in your throne watching his performance. Every word, every step a testimony for your longing. If anyone else saw him at night , they would be scared for their life.

A boy dancing as if he was possessed.

What had he become? Another lovesick boy, a fool just like his father, infatuated, aching, lost to his devotion. He had once vowed never to become so vulnerable, and yet here he was, the intensity of his love binding him more than duty or obligation ever could. He used to revel in this power, at first motivated by pride, even defiance, to show his brothers that he had won something they could never touch. But now, with every beat of his heart, every drop of his blood, he was wholly, helplessly, irrevocably yours.

Although not long ago, one significant shift rippled through the palace, Xu Tai, the skilled warrior whose loyalty you trusted, was now appointed as General. Junlai took comfort in this news. His sister's allegiance was unwavering, and her impressive abilities spoke for themselves. You chose her for her skill and integrity, qualities Junlai respected, and even admired from afar. He knew that with Tai at the helm, your interests, and your life, were in capable hands.

He hadn’t anticipated finding peace in such a development, yet knowing Tai held this position gave him a strange sense of relief. However when he just received a letter from Tai herself, that sense of relief seemed to diminish.

You had been poisoned by an arrow at the battlefield. Thankfully the physician present did their best to take it out but it was unknown if you would come back alive. The news was also sent to the Emperor and eventually spread over the harem and then the country.

The news struck the palace like a tempest. Word spread first as whispers in dimly lit corridors, then as gasps behind silken fans, until eventually, the rumours became cries of despair from every corner of the empire. The Empress has been poisoned, they said, her life teetering on the edge. The harem held its breath, the concubines offering quiet prayers. Yet amidst them all, Junlai felt as though his entire world had shattered.

Days passed in agonizing limbo, and Junlai clung to any scrap of information he could gather. The air in his chambers grew thick with dread, the whispers of the other concubines like needles against his skin. Would she return? Could she survive this? He tried to still his racing heart, to banish the wretched possibilities that plagued him day and night, but his mind clung stubbornly to images of your pale face, the way you looked as he’d last seen you, strong, assured, untouchable.

But now, you were mortal. Wounded. Vulnerable.

He’d never felt so powerless. Each night he would sit in the garden, his injured feet barely feeling the cold stone beneath them as he gazed at the stars, praying fervently for your safety. Let her come back to me, he whispered into the darkness. Take my health, my strength, take anything you want, but let her live.

The news of the looming threat reached the palace in the dead of night, casting a shadow over an already grief-stricken palace. The Chief Minister summoned her closest advisors including Xu Huang, the walls of the council chamber echoing with grave voices as they strategized. The Wei Dynasty had betrayed them, their forces striking not only on the battlefield but now threatening the heart of the empire, taking advantage of your absence. This insidious plot was spearheaded by the rebel leader Guo Wang, a lecherous woman of ruthless ambition and bloodthirsty intent. Her name alone sent ripples of fear through the court, her reputation for savagery preceding her.

The capital was left vulnerable in a way it hadn’t been for years. With Tai, your most loyal and capable General, at your side on the battlefield, and your position as Empress left temporarily vacant, the capital was guarded only by lesser warriors and the remaining commanders, a force barely sufficient for an ambush of this scale.

Junlai’s despair deepened. He had kept his composure in the wake of your injury, holding fast to the hope that you would return to him. But now the looming threat to the capital turned that sorrow into fear and fury. He knew what would come if Guo Wang breached the palace walls, the carnage that woman would wreak upon all in her path. The court, the innocents of the capital, and, he shuddered, the vulnerable harem.

He understood now what his sister had never fully articulated, the key to victory was not in repeating the old ways, but in disrupting the enemy's expectations. And Guo Wang’s forces? They would be expecting the standard defences. They would expect the palace to hide behind walls, women in armour standing guard at every gate. That was their mistake. Junlai knew better. But being a man and more so a mere consort was something that Junlai couldn't change. Nobody would listen to him. Two weeks left before the Guo reaches them even if Tai had sent for backup to the capital, it would have taken them a bit longer to get here.

No, he would not let this slide. The audacity to kill you , trying to take you AWAY FROM HIM!?. He will fucking lay corpses upon corpses of these disgusting pieces of filth. He will BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!

"I will not rest until I see you fall, Guo Wang..."

═════ ◈ ═════

"Mother, please. Trust me. You have to listen-"

"Your only job is to stay here, in the harem, and bear her children! Leave the military and court decisions to the court and the Empress."

Xu Huang froze, his chest tightening at the cold dismissal. His mother, ever so pragmatic, always intent on keeping him within the narrow boundaries of what was deemed acceptable for someone of his position. But tonight, he couldn’t bear it anymore. The years of suffocating silence, the weight of expectations that had been placed on him, all of it came crashing down in a wave of defiance.

"BUT I AM DOING THIS FOR THE EMPRESS!" His voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving. Xu Huang recoiled as if struck, the shock of his outburst still fresh in the air. But his fury only seemed to fuel him further. "Her Majesty’s court, her harem... I will not let some barbarian come in and tear it all apart. And don’t forget it, Mother!" He took a step forward, his voice thick with venom, his eyes burning with a passion he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. The tears were a mask, barely held together by his pride.

"I WILL protect her, and I WILL protect this dynasty."

He let his words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications. He stood taller now, a dangerous glint in his eye, as he moved closer, letting the venomous truth seep into every syllable. "As for bearing children, oh sure, I will. But I won’t do it for you. I’ll do it for ME. For MY future. I’ll be elevated, not you. You will always remain a slave to the system, while I may one day be a part of the Wang dynasty. And you know what that could mean." His voice dropped to a low, almost mocking tone. "How do you think Tai became the General? If I can place someone on the board, I can just as easily toss them out."

There was a flicker of uncertainty in Xu Huang’s eyes at the mention of Tai, but it was quickly masked. He knew the truth, he had no such influence, but the bluff was enough. It was enough to make his mother tremble. The stoic, unflinching woman who had held him back his entire life now looked unsure, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if seeking something to steady herself.

"What are you proposing?" Her voice, cold as ever, betrayed the slight quiver in her tone. She had heard his words, but was she truly willing to listen?

Junlai smirked, the edge of triumph curling at the corners of his lips. "Now, we are talking."

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai had always been more than just a skilled dancer; his mind was a sharp, calculating instrument that never ceased its relentless pursuit of efficiency and innovation. While the others focused on traditional warfare, the old strategies, sieging, ambushing, and brute force, Junlai saw only limitations. What he needed was an advantage that would catch their enemies off guard, something that no one had considered. The answer, as it often was, lay in nature.

Birds.

The idea came to him one evening while he watched the flock of crows circling above the harem. Their wings cutting through the air with precision, their effortless movement, a pattern of chaos within perfect order. It wasn't just the birds that caught his attention, but the fact that they held the power to burn.

In the markets, there had been whispers of incendiary techniques used by distant lands, fire-starting mechanisms using birds trained to carry torches. The court dismissed this concept as superstition, yet to Junlai, it was a brilliant, unrecognised weapon.

Junlai would need to launch the birds at night when the enemy's defences were at their weakest. The element of surprise would be vital, he knew that as soon as the birds were released, they would need to fly directly to their targets, avoiding the natural predators and the dangers of interception. So he had the women train them, following his instructions.

He took advantage of the dark sky, the birds’ natural night-flying abilities, to send them directly into the heart of Guo Wang’s camp. The wind, as if in cooperation with his plan, would be at their backs, ensuring that the fires would spread faster.

The moment the birds were released, the chaos began.

As the trained crows took flight, their wings slicing through the air like silent messengers of destruction, the fire lit up, first softly, then raging. Guo Wang's forces had no warning, no time to react. They watched in horror as the embers from above ignited their tents, their supplies, and worst of all, their weapons.

The women who had been enlisted as fighters, strong in their defiance but unprepared for such an assault, panicked as the fire spread, consuming their weapons and armour. Their leaders scrambled, but the flames had already done the work. The camp was ablaze, confusion and terror rippling through the ranks. The birds had burned their half camp, crippled their supply chain, and taken away the one thing they held most precious, control.

Thus, it made it easier for the soldiers to attack Guo's forces and easily win. Junlai watched with pride as he saw Guo's head impaled and being paraded around inside the castle's walls. A perfect homecoming gift for you. A gift to prove that he was not just a man in your harem, but someone who would do anything to ensure your reign remained unchallenged. Which made him again fall into a pit of worry for your return.

"Her Majesty has returned!" one of the attendants announced, her voice echoing down the hall.

Junlai stood in the corridor of the harem, his heart pounding in his chest. He had not realized how much he had missed you until the news arrived, that you were finally returning from the battlefield, victorious, but at a terrible cost. The victory meant nothing if it came at the cost of your well-being.

He watched from the shadows with along with other concubines as you entered, your face a bit pale but overall with no less than a sturdy and imperial aura. Your steps echoed in the hall as you greeted your father, your son and for a fleeting moment, met his gaze.

His mind was torn between wanting to rush to you and knowing that you would hate such an open display. So, he waited, watching, every fibre of his being aching to be near you.

And you called him finally, after two painful days.

"I... Your Majesty," Junlai's voice cracked slightly, betraying his calm facade. He couldn't hide the flood of emotions that coursed through him, the concern, the longing, the worry. He took another step closer, his voice low, "You came back... but how long will it take until you're truly well again?"

You always held yourself in such high regard, and the idea of being seen as anything less than the Empress was a bitter pill to swallow.

"I am better," you said, your tone firm, but Junlai could see the exhaustion etched into your features. "The battle was won, and my soldiers did well. That's enough for me."

Junlai stood in front of you now, so close that he could reach out and touch you if he dared. His gaze softened even further, and for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, him staring into your eyes, his heart heavy with the thoughts he didn’t dare speak aloud. Then he was finally graced with your embrace causing him to breakdown.

"Whatever it takes. Just... don’t push yourself too hard. You need rest." He whispered getting his act together.

You gestured for him to sat beside you on the bed. "I heard from Father...about what you did." He gulped, his form of being just...a boy in love under your gaze.

"I... I just... couldn't-- I had to! I did it all in fear of what might... happen..." You raised his chin.

"You didn't do it for love, then?"

"Of course I did! I did it for you only!" He grasped your hand against his cheek, his eyes filling with tears, his voice breaking at every word. "You... have no idea... what... torture it was for me to live after knowing that happened to you... my Queen. It was worse than death itself."

A hint of a smile graced your lips. "I am proud of you. I am... proud of my choice too..." You gazed lovingly at his face and wiped his tears, pulling his frail body to your chest. "Tai told me you... always had an interest in warfare... sneaked in to read her books."

His heart stopped. His sister... knew? All this time... she did? Yet she...

"Um... I--- yes." His whole body shivered when your deep chuckle traveled to every cell in his body.

"I have made a... decision."

His hands fisted your tunic in anticipation. "You will be the Regent consort here when I am away. You will manage the harem, manage the safety of the capital, it's people. Charities and all."

Junlai’s heart skipped a beat. His initial instinct was to deny, to say that it was nothing, that he just did his duty and wanted nothing more than to be a mere slave to your love. But the way you spoke to him with a glint of respect, of something more than just duty, it made him pause.

You saw him. Truly saw him.

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the trembling in his hands, the heat in his chest. Regent consort. The title echoed in his mind like a promise, like a dream he had never dared to imagine. No man had ever had it...it didn't even exist until now. He would be the first man in history to have that. He will be known by every generation to come..

"But--but I... I don't deserve it," he stammered, the weight of your approval sinking into him. "I am... only a concubine, someone who had no right to such a role. You shouldn't place such responsibility on me."

You leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a tender gesture, lifting his gaze with a gentle but firm pressure. "You don’t need to deserve it, Junlai," you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of your conviction. "You have already proven your loyalty, your cunning, and your heart."

You emphasized with a small but significant shift in tone, "You are my mind in the harem. You will ensure that my absence does not shake the foundations of this dynasty. You will stand guard over the people, the capital... everything I’ve worked for."

Junlai’s hands clenched tighter around your tunic as he processed the weight of your words. The enormity of the role, the responsibility, it was almost too much. But the way you spoke, the way you believed in him, gave him a strength he didn’t know he had.

"Are you afraid?" you asked, your voice soft but direct, your eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his knees weak.

He paused, feeling a swirl of emotions churn in his chest. Fear. Desire. Ambition. Hope. They all mixed together until he couldn’t tell where one feeling ended and another began. But he was honest with you, always. "Yes," he said simply. "I am afraid. But if it means standing by your side... I will do whatever it takes."

You smiled at him, a slow, dangerous smile that made his breath catch in his throat. "Good," you said, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a low murmur and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

He had never imagined that the harem would become more than just a gilded cage. He had never imagined that he would be the one trusted to hold the reins when you were away. But now, it felt like everything was changing.

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only a quiet confidence that he knew, deep down, was meant for him.

"I won’t let you down," he whispered, his voice steady with determination, even as the weight of his new role settled over him like a mantle. "I will protect everything you’ve built, Empress. And I will make sure that no one dares challenge your rule."

You let out a satisfied sigh, your fingers trailing down the length of his arm as you leaned back, taking in the sight of him, your trusted consort, your mind in the harem.

His eyes softened, and for the first time since the battle, since everything had changed, he felt a flicker of peace settle in his chest. There was no going back now. But for the first time, he didn’t want to. He had you. And that was all that mattered.

Junlai leaned into you then, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath steadying as he let himself savor the moment, the moment where everything shifted, where he was no longer just a boy in your harem but the one who would protect everything you held dear.

Though, he mustn't forget one last thing~~

═════ ◈ ═════

"Ju-nlai?" Xu Fen stammered, his face twisting into an expression of disbelief. The boy, no, the boy, who once knelt before him, who had suffered beneath his cruelty, now stood in front of him as a figure that exuded nothing but cold authority. The sight rattled Fen to his core.

Junlai’s gaze locked onto him, dead and distant, as though he were staring through him. “I came to meet my brothers,” he said, his voice as calm as the still waters of a lake, but carrying the weight of a storm hidden just beneath the surface.

“Oh really? Why is that?” Fen’s words dripped with thinly veiled disdain, though his insides were anything but calm. He took a cautious step backward, uncertain of what Junlai intended. The boy had always been an afterthought, a lesser player in the family’s schemes. But that had changed, and Fen knew it.

Junlai’s eyes flickered over the room, moving like cold knives, and finally settled on the women standing behind him. His gaze was hollow, merciless. “Are you going to bring them out, or...?" His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. He wasn’t asking, he was commanding. His tone had a chilling finality, as though the fate of everyone in that room rested solely in his hands now.

Fen felt the air constrict around him, the tension thickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, unable to hide his discomfort. With a reluctant sigh and a sour expression, he turned on his heel and went to summon the others, though it pained him to do so. He knew it was futile to resist. The man who stood in his mansion now was not the boy he had once controlled but something far more dangerous.

Minutes passed, each one dragging as Fen stood nervously, but when the Xu brothers arrived, they entered with a mixture of curiosity and defiance. They were offended, of course, by Junlai’s sudden appearance, but there was a deeper undercurrent of fear in their eyes

"Same as always..." Junlai murmured to himself, but his smile, if it could even be called that, was something else entirely. It was a sharp, knowing grin, filled with something dangerous. His voice rose, becoming almost melodic in its dark amusement. "Which is going to make it more fun!"

For the first time in the Xu household, the black sheep of the family, Junlai, let out a laugh, but it was no ordinary laugh. It was a hollow, manic laugh that seemed to echo off the walls. The sound was unsettling, almost inhuman, a reminder of the twisted journey that had led him to this moment.

Junlai’s eyes never left them as he spoke again, his voice low and chilling. “You see… I’ve come to remind you what happens when you think you can break me. You’ve burned me before… but now, I’m going to return the favour.”

Fen’s heart skipped a beat. He had always thought he could control Junlai, keep him beneath his bootheel. He had been wrong.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to understand what it feels like.”

It took one subtle gesture from Junlai and the guards moved quickly, and efficiently, grabbing the Xu brothers and laying them down on the floor. Their hands were bound, their legs spread wide, and Junlai’s eyes glinted with a dangerous gleam as he stepped closer, his boots making a soft but deliberate thud with each step. The room seemed to grow colder.

"No--p-please...forgive them...NO! I BEG YOU!" Fen's voice mixed with his son's pleas as well which earned him a slap from Junlai. That was all it took to reduce them to sobs and whimpers.

"Shut your fucking mouth, whore. And watch." He dug his hands into Fen's hair and steadied him beside himself. "Look, how cute they look." He giggled.

The guard poured more water onto the brothers' feet, the boiling liquid now bubbling and splashing as it engulfed their limbs. The screams grew louder, desperate. One of the brothers jerked against his restraints, his body writhing in pain, but there was nowhere to go. Fen could hear their flesh sizzling, the sound of raw skin peeling and blistering under the scalding heat. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He had put them through this once before. Now it was his turn to witness the consequences. God, he always loved fire and its power. In fact, he began to see himself in it. Agile, dangerous, unyielding and most importantly, passionate when it came to you.

Fen watched, trembling, as the heat of the water burned into the skin of his sons. Junlai stood tall, his form casting a long shadow over the brothers writhing in pain, and spoke in a voice that resonated with unrelenting authority: “Let this be a reminder, boys." As he turned to leave, his guards following behind him, the sound of his laughter lingered in the air, a dark, triumphant melody that filled the hearts of those who heard it with dread.

Now is the turn of some concubines who have been acting up recently in your absence. Surely, they won't mind a little visit, right?

"Everyone stresses out your father soo much, don't they?" He cooed , caressing his flat abdomen as he settled in the carriage.

Nevertheless, it's all entertainment for him.

[milktiicup]

do you write for mr scarletella? :) if so, may i request jealous scarlet who makes attempts to get closer to reader (court them) after seeing how close they are to mr crawling

persistence is key

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact. “What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. “You slow in head?”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ yeah idk, lowkey some enemies to (potential) lovers, i have no idea how to characterise mr scarletella, but i tried my best and then i kinda got a little too invested in trying to spin the fic the way i wanted and wrote a little more than usual... sorry if ur disappointed, i tried to keep the whole courting/jealous thing subtle but still kinda there >w<

warnings. canon typical violence >w<

You’re not sure when you met the man in red, but you know he’s stalking you now. And it’s getting seriously old. Unlike the ghosts and monsters you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, this one doesn’t know how to take a hint.

Your first unofficial encounter with him is something that sent shivers down your spine, tucked away under Mr. Crawling’s arm and clutching onto his kimono for dear life. The second encounter was much worse- separated from your other worldly protector and left running down an almost comically long and creepy hallway where he just magically appears in front of you. 

You don’t even think twice before you smash the crowbar into his form with all your strength, but it was futile the way he flickered? in front of your own eyes and left a weird moist residue on your weapon. You scowled, and rudely pointed a finger at him- “What the hell’s your problem, dude?”

In response, he leaned in close- so close that your nose nearly touched his. The tilt of his scarlet umbrella cast a dark shadow over you, and as he peered down, one black eye appeared from behind his hair, locking onto you with a soul-piercing stare. You felt stripped bare under that gaze, vulnerable and exposed, like he was seeing straight into your core, uncovering forgotten memories, pieces of yourself even you couldn’t remember. He smiled—a slow, unsettling curl of his lips that chilled you to your bones—and said something you didn’t understand. It sounded like a question, maybe, though you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care. You spat out a few choice words and swung again, hard.

At least for a while, he left you alone.

Has it been days, weeks, or even months since you’ve got here? It was difficult to keep track, and it was difficult to even care anymore. The place was, without a doubt, growing on you by the day. Even if it was filled with hostile creatures that wanted to eat you sometimes, and when your skin started to get discoloured and you had the inhuman itch that just could never be satisfied- it wasn’t that bad! Hell, you even made a few friends and claimed a comfortable bed in some random room you found.

However, just as you finally started settling into the place, you had your third encounter with Mr. Scarletella.

It started with a dream- from before you came to this world. That man in red… A test of courage, your friends called it- spending a night in those so-called ‘Ghost Apartments.’ Your friends hadn’t known it then, but you were quite familiar with the building for reasons, and set yourself up in a cosy corner and the night was supposed to sail smoothly.

A rumour had surfaced- a tale of a ruin that appears only on rainy days, where you’re warned never to give your name to the figure you’ll meet there. That figure, they said, would take your soul. At the end of a dim hallway, standing silently under a scarlet umbrella, he was waiting. The man in red, eyes hidden beneath his hair. He was watching you. Or was he? Somehow you could feel his stare even if you couldn’t see it. 

You woke up, heart pounding, muttering a string of curses. You groan, rubbing a hand down your face. The discoloration of your skin hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either. The longer you stayed here, the more the place left its mark. As long as you remained relatively human, and the only thing this place took from you was your memory, you weren’t too fussed. How could you possibly miss something from the other world when all you could remember was smashing a crowbar into someone’s head?

You swing your legs over the bed, feet touching the cold ground. The chill sent a jolt up your spine, and it was almost too tempting to get back under the cosy, warm sheets. You stretch your arms above your head, bones cracking and popping into place and mumble a hazy ‘Good morning’ to Mr. Crawling that should have been in the other bed. Silence wasn’t something you were used to around him- and you whip around so fast that you gave yourself whiplash.

Cursing, you grab your crowbar and stumble out of the room with a hand rubbing your tender neck. You didn’t need to look far- you could see Mr. Crawling at the end of the hallway.

And Mr. Scarletella. 

The man in red was bent over to be face to face with Mr. Crawling, all-too-familiar sinister smirk on his face. Mr. Crawling didn’t look so happy either, and they seemed to be having an argument. You stomp your feet as you make your way over to the two, hand tightening on your crowbar as you ready yourself to fight literal static if it meant leaving your best friend in here alone.

“You,” you scowl, pointing your weapon at him. “You problem?”

Mr. Crawling scurries to your side, a hand gripping onto your clothes. “Dangerous… should get away!” he urges, tugging. 

You shush him with a pat on his head with your free hand and continue to glare at that menace. 

“You like them?” is the only thing Mr. Scarletella asks with a tilt of his head, smile seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Glancing at Mr. Crawling, his face covered in worry- you feel the familiar itch of your skin. You take a breath, going through all the reasons why you can’t actually kill Mr. Scarletella, and loosen the grip on your crowbar. From what you can sense right now, he’s not actually that much of a threat. Just a nuisance that can’t seem to leave you alone. 

“Them friend,” you reply, deadpan. What type of question was that anyway? This guy was a freak. 

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact.

“What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. You turn back to Mr. Scarletella. “You slow in head?”

The smile on Mr. Scarletella’s face falters just for a moment, but it quickly returns, more chilling than before. He stands there, towering above you. Despite your snarky comment, he doesn’t look offended- no, it’s almost as if he’s intrigued by your resistance.

You tighten your hold on the crowbar. “You problem.” You frown. “Go away.”

Instead, his grin deepens, his head tilting at such an unnatural angle that you can feel your stomach churn. It’s as though he’s studying you, savouring every little bit of your discomfort. Surely, turning your head at that angle is gonna hurt… You audibly gulp.

“Problem later,” Mr. Scarletella says, and with an unsettling flicker, he’s gone. 

The next time you saw him after that was in less tense circumstances. It was unsettling after whatever that was with his coy little ‘Problem later’, you weren’t going to worry too much about it for the time being. You decided you’ll worry about it when the problem occurs, which probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas you had. 

The earth shakes, and you’re completely cut off from Mr. Crawling. Wandering down hallways, resting in random rooms- you never really felt alone. You turn a corner, dizziness growing by the minute, and pause.

“You again,” you sigh. You don’t even bother lifting your crowbar at him. “What do you want?”

He appears directly in front of you, causing you to stumble back a few steps at just how tall he is. He bends down to your eye level, umbrella covering both of you once again. “Give name?” he asks. 

“No. Go away.”

“Give name. Teach.”

“Go away!”

“Teach name.”

“Fine! My name’s… you pause. You didn’t actually have to give him your real name, did you? “...Silvair, or something.”

He gets closer to your face. You take another few steps back, but not before you get the smell of blood and dampness off of him. It takes all the willpower in your body to not scrunch your face up. 

“Wrong name.”

“So what? It’s a name.” You scoff. Mr. Scarletella is silent, eerily so, and you can feel his piercing gaze stare through you once more. You awkwardly avoid eye contact, and clear your throat. “I’m… gonna go now, okay?” You turn on your feet and only make it a few steps.

“You teach them name?”

Them? Mr. Crawling? That guy doesn’t even understand the concept of his own name! The scowl feels as if it’s permanently etched onto your face. You whip around, pointing another disapproving finger into his red raincoat. It feels fuzzy… and wet. It grosses you out, almost. More than Mr. Gap’s greasy hair.

“No,” you hiss. “I don’t even remember my own name.” He stares, silently.  “Me,” you point to yourself, “not know name.”

“...Not know name?” he echoes. What you said has him lost, you could see that. 

Just like that, he’s gone again. You don’t see him for a few more days, nor do you find Mr. Crawling. You spend your time aimlessly wandering, knowing eventually you’ll most likely find someone you know in a friendly manner, and not pondering if every ghost you come across is a friend or a foe. 

You awake promptly to a sound of a chainsaw revving. As if it was a morning routine, you stumble to your feet, grasping for your crowbar that should have, without a doubt, been next to you… only to grasp at air. Okay, now you are starting to feel a little panic.

Through trial and error, you knew that whatever wound you receive will heal, with time- but it doesn’t mean you were looking forward to being maimed to shreds with a chainsaw! 

“Hehe.”

You froze, heart racing, and slowly turn around. There that wretched little being was- the stupid little fucker in the goat costume. The ‘Hooded Child’, the thing was termed. In it’s stupid little fucking hands, it held you handy-dandy crowbar that’s been with you thick and thin. Your stomach churns. 

You gulp and face back towards the open doorway- a long black abyss, stretching on and on, with only the haunting bounce of that chainsaw, crawling along the walls. That chainsaw that was about to mince you in a matter of seconds. That chainsaw that was approaching you rapidly.

Frantically, you grab the nearest thing you could reach for. A metal chair. You wince. Probably not the best thing you could’ve grabbed, but it’ll have to do. It’s a matter of- well, technically life or life, but still! You could feel the sweat on your palms, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your heart hammering through your ribcage. 

You lift the chair above your head as the monster comes into view- a tall, masked being in a strapless floor length black dress… wait, why was she dressed so sexy? Your surprise leads you to hesitate as she rushes at you with her machine. You let out a yelp as you whack the chair down in front of you, metal clanging echoing throughout the room.

Complete silence. Not even the sound of that chainsaw. Not even the sound of metal.  

“Huh?” You blink, once, twice, thrice at the sliced up body of that creature, blood splatter on your clothes. There was blood even on the ceiling, too… You drop the chair in utter confusion.  “What the hell?”

“Help you.”

“You again!” You spin on your feet, meeting the dull eyes of Mr. Scarletella. You’re about to huff and puff this guy into next week, but pause. You leave your accusing finger down by your side. This guy just saved you from that thing. You avert your eyes and scuff your feet against the ground with a cough into your fist. “Uhm… Thank you.”

Wow, this guy really has an intense stare… Way to make things unnecessarily intense and awkward. 

“Protect you,” he says. “You like me?”

“Take me out to dinner first, man!” you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like. You not bad. Not good. You okay.”

Mr. Scarletella dons an out of place frown that even makes you feel a little uneasy. “Them protect you. You like them.”

“Them friend,” you stress, finally meeting his gaze once more. You kind of regret it. This guy doesn’t blink. “You…” Weird? Off-putting? Freaky? “...unsafe.”

“Me safe. Protect you. Help you.” 

You sigh. “Unsafe to friend.”

He just stands there, holding that stupid umbrella, with that unblinking stare. You blink at him and squint your eyes. His facial expression doesn’t change. Completely unfazed. You can’t even tell if he’s confused, or upset, or whatever he could possibly be. Your breath hitches as his unsettlingly familiar smile returns.

He tilts his head. “Me good. Me show you.”

Then he’s gone again. You can finally breathe. Your heart is still pumping. You slide against the wall, landing on the ground and resting your head against your knees. You clutch at your raincoat with shaking fists. 

Mr. Scarletella - you knew he was meant to be dangerous, but he just saved you a whole lot of pain. Even if he was still a threat to Mr. Crawling, and hounds you for your name, asks you weird questions, could he honestly be as bad as you originally thought he was? You can’t deny that he did save you… but his presence is more dangerous than comforting. He’s both a threat and an aid, but never clear on which he’ll be at any given moment. One thing is for certain, however, and that was that he was persistent for your attention. Wait… 

Oh my good God, does he like you?

“Heh…”  Chuckling, you tuck your hair behind your ear. “I am pretty cute.”

You stand, and decide it’s better to think about while on the move back to Mr. Crawling. You reach for your crowbar, and curse. Of course. The Hooded Child took it with them when they disappeared when Mr. Stalkerella showed up. Well, you sigh as you drag the chair behind you as you exit the room, at least you have a temporary weapon, for now…

Making it back to Mr. Crawling didn’t take that much longer. He greets you, frown on his face and long arms wrapping around your waist. “Me worried! You gone long time!”  

“Long time,” you agree, bending down to his level. You ruffle his hair, a smile finally sliding onto your face. It quickly turns into a pout as you wave your empty hands. “Lost attack tool.” 

Mr. Crawling points to the spilled blood on your raincoat with a high pitched noise. You sheepishly giggle, and gesture to the chair behind you. He tilts his head, processing, before letting out his all familiar laugh. You sigh in content, glad to see a friendly face and let him pet you for a while. 

He stops petting you, and turns around. “Attack tool!” he smiles wide, your trusty weapon in his grey hands. “Them give me.”

“Them?” you repeat, taking the crowbar, twisting and turning it in your grasp. “Them who?”

“Them!” 

Curse this damn language. 

“Mr. Crawling,” you hold his face in your hands, “what look like?”

His smile falters, and if you could see his eyebrows, you’d imagine they would be furrowed. He takes a moment to think, and points to the blood on your raincoat, and attempts to imitate holding an…

Umbrella.

You stare. And stare. And stare. You can’t even begin to process what Mr. Crawling just said to you, debating maybe you actually were growing crazy and it was finally time to bounce out of this place- andddd of course, you notice a red flicker at the end of the hallway. You tilt your head past Mr. Crawling.

That scarlet umbrella tilts slightly, and just for a split second, you catch a glimmer of that piercing dark eye staring straight at you, as if watching every nerve fire under your skin. You can see his smile from here, as if it was a smug ‘I told you so’ but it was actually a ‘Me show you.’ 

Well… Mr. Scarletella did show you. And now you were just left, to put it simply, utterly fucking confused. It just drilled the narrative down deeper of the possibility that he did like you. So… what do you do now? Do you apologise for trying to smash his head in with a crowbar? For being so rude? 

How do you even apologise for something you don’t even remotely feel sorry for in the first place? Mr. Scarletella was creepy! …At least, he was kind of sweet. Not really- his intentions were anything but kind. But still!

You bite the inside of your cheek. …Is it wrong to feel a little flattered? There’s barely any romance in this place anyway!

In your world, things are either friend or foe, monster or protector. But Mr. Scarletella? He exists in some in-between place. Dangerous yet helpful. It’s as if he’s deliberately defying every category you try to force him into. And now, the memory of his unsettling question repeats in your mind- “You like me?” - echoing in your thoughts with a kind of twisted innocence that gnaws at you, a bit more with each repetition.

Mr. Crawling gives a soft, anxious chirp, tugging you slightly, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still eyeing the red figure warily. He points. “Them… dangerous? Them good?” 

“Not know,” you mumble, defeated. “Good, maybe.” You stand to your feet, crowbar falling off of your lap and clanging onto the floor. “Me, them, talk. You stay.”

Mr. Crawling makes a noise of protest, hand reaching out to grasp at your clothes. You reassuringly ruffle his hair once more, and make your way to the end of the hallway. You don’t hear him follow behind you.

Face to face, you stand in front of the smiling Mr. Scarletella. He stares down at you, unblinking, unmoving. 

“Can’t give name,” you remind him.

He leans his face down, ever so close. “Me like you.” A pause. “Want you.” Another pause. “You like me. Give me many human. Give me many blood.” 

Well… In your defence, you didn’t know your corpse dumping ground was Mr. Scarletella’s domain. 

“Getting in over your own head…” you grumble, and lift up your hand. You pinch your fingers together. “Little like you. Okay? LITTLE.” You wonder if this guy’s smile could get any bigger, geez… “You want big like?” You point your index towards him. “Be normal. Be good. Understand?”

“Normal? “Good?” He seems to chew over the words like they’re a foreign delicacy, his head tilting at that unnatural angle again. “For… you?”

“You good,” you waggle your finger at him, “I teach name. Maybe. If I can remember it…”

There’s an unnatural, prolonged silence in the air. You’re beginning to feel the awkward tension once more, but your resolve refuses you to break the unblinking eye contact you keep with him. 

And finally, he speaks once more, agreeing to your proposition, “You teach good, you teach name.”

You hold back your groan- whatever this dance you two were playing, was going to take a long time to progress.

But at least something is better than nothing, right?

[very-grownup]

Whenever scolding or lecturing posts come across my dash I'm always confused by what seems like the imaginary people they're addressing, but I just spent time this evening with my niece and nephew.

I don't know if I'm the "cool" aunt in their lives, but I'm the aunt who would improvise dance music and bop them around when they were babies. I'm the aunt who wrestled with them and let them climb all over me and plop down and demand my attention. I'm the aunt who watched videos of giant cockroaches with them and let them lead me in games. I'm the aunt who tonight was shown many, many stickers of "Wings of Fire" dragons and asked my opinion on them and a rubber calculator where you can make a big number and then do minus a little number and if you keep pressing the equal sign you can see the big number going down and you can pretend it's the health of an enemy in a videogame. I'm the aunt who sat through so. much. Paw Patrol.

I think you probably have to do time in the Paw Patrol or equivalent mines if you want to be an adult in a child's life that they feel is part of their life, which is more important than being the cool aunt.

I do know I was privileged to have a cool uncle (did you know men-types can also have deep relationships with their younger relatives?). He passed away from cancer last year, tragically young. But he was cool. He was the coolest adult I knew as a child. He had turtles he cared for well enough that they were huge, stately creatures. He would wrestle you in the water and lift you high above his head and splash you down. He would take an interest in what you were doing and find common ground and engage with you about it and listen to you and he was the coolest adult you knew as a child. I was ten or eleven when he married my youngest aunt, so I was approaching teenagerdom which was a dreadful time, but it was when I started to learn about science fiction, mostly through comedy like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Red Dwarf. But he /had/ The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He had Red Dwarf /novels/. He gave me a copy of The Princess Bride and Ben Elton's Stark just because. He recommended The Martial Chronicles. He watched The X-Files.

I don't think he was trying to be the cool uncle. He was just himself and paid attention to you enough to see who you were and talk to you about the things that made you feel like an adult.

After he died, there were a lot of comments and memories about how cool and involved and loving he was and I hope he knew that. I'd like to think I might be so remembered by my niece and nephew and the other children I've been lucky enough to have in my life.

It's not about being cool, really, but about being engaged with them in the time you spend together (I only saw my cool uncle for a week or two in the summer until I graduated high school) and being an honest version of yourself so they can find the part of you that they think is cool and building on that.

Because, in retrospect? Geologist with turtles who reads science fiction? Not particularly cool. Certainly not universally cool. And I imagine what other young people in his life responded to was different than what I responded to, what cemented him in my mind as a cool adult. Maybe he had his own Paw Patrol he endured to spend time with my younger cousins.

I don't know, I just love my niece and nephew a lot and I want the world they're growing up in to be better and kinder and I feel blessed when my autistic nephew takes my hand to lead me downstairs to play a game with him or, like tonight, asks me if I have Minecraft on my phone because he wants to be able to invite me to his Minecraft server. It's exhausting but still heart-warming how goofy and unselfconscious my niece is in her excitement when I come over and she forgets she's almost a teenager (she's eleven, but she'll be twelve soon, and that's basically thirteen).

...

God the Paw Patrol years were rough.

I know that a lot of you are banking on having little to do with your nephews/neices as children and then becoming their "cool aunt" once they become teenagers, but I think that you will find, upon analysis, that a random middle-aged woman stepping into a whole-ass teenager's life and arbitrarily declaring herself to be a "cool aunt" is, in fact, the least cool thing it's possible to do.

[romugh]

HISTORY IN THE MAKING - nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, gp!bottom!natasha, handjob (n rcv), blowie (n rcv), missionary, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie? muaha... shy daddy!nat UGHH, kind of orgasm control & slight edging if you squint

wc- 5.4k

a/n- drabble turned fic as i worked my way through these exact history shenanigans a few days back... in the same INTIMATE STUDIES universe! might make this a cute lil thing :) this is very much NOT my best work, i might rework it a little bit just to make it flow a lil more! apologies if there are any repetitions, i tried to catch them, but my brain is fried :/

synopsis- natasha's helping you study russia's history, and the rest is history?? idk it's too late rn guys i'm going to sleep

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀, @simpforlizzie, @riyaexee

You’re sitting cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, staring down at a jumble of Russian history notes that you’re certain might as well be in Cyrillic themselves. The words swim on the page, stubbornly refusing to click in the way chemistry formulas or physics equations do. You press the back of your pen to your lips, glancing over at the figure hunched over the desk in the corner of the room.

Natasha is fully engrossed in her game, brows furrowed in concentration as her fingers fly across the keyboard. The light from her monitor casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the gentle bite of her lower lip. She’s wearing a simple white blouse tucked into a plaid skirt, her usual attempt to dress professionally for class long since abandoned in favour of cosy socks and a messy bun.

You can’t help but smile a little. The contrast between Natasha’s outward shyness and the intensity in her focus has always been something you found endearing. You met in the class you were currently trying to study for, back when you’d shown up late to Russian history, fumbling through an awkward introduction as the professor sighed and directed you to sit in the last free seat beside her. It had taken a few study sessions for you to get past her initial stammering, but now, you could ask her about anything and her eyes would light up, eagerly launching into whatever story or fact you were struggling to understand. But right now, that focus is directed entirely on her computer screen.

You clear your throat. “Natasha?”

“Hm?” She barely looks up, eyes quickly darting back to her screen.

“Nat,” you repeat, with a hint of a smile. “I need help with the comparison of Russia until 1917 and the West-European’s Ancien Régime. And… pretty much all the details, too.”

She gives a little sigh, half-distracted. “Mm. Yes, the parables are… very interesting, baby. Give me one second. I’m doing really well.”

You hold back a laugh. “Right, but I’m failing Russian history. Melina and Alexei will both kill me. So can you take a break?”

Her eyes don’t leave the screen. “I will, I promise. Just a few more minutes. I’m close to beating this level.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her single-minded dedication. Her stubborn innocence, the way she always seems to be pulled between her gentle nature and her intense focus, has you mesmerised. But she can’t honestly think you’re going to wait forever.

“Natasha,” you say softly, standing and crossing over to her desk. Her gaze flicks up to you on her side, her big, doe-like eyes widening with an almost bashful look as you lean against the desk. “You’re seriously not going to help me?”

She blushes, biting her lip. “I really want to help,” she whispers, almost apologetic, “but, really, just a little longer? Please?”

There’s something about the sweet innocence of her pleading that has your heart racing. Her earnestness always has a way of drawing you in, those wide, round eyes like they’re begging for permission to keep playing, and her lips slightly parted in concentration. You tilt your head, taking in every detail of her—the slight blush dusting her cheeks, the faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, and the way her fingers clutch the keyboard just a little tighter, like she’s holding onto the game but secretly hoping you’ll take control.

You smile softly and reach for her chair, turning it around so she’s facing you. Her hands hover in the air, a brief look of panic on her face as she loses her place in the game. She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can say anything, you’re sliding onto her lap, straddling her, feeling the warmth of her strong thighs under you.

“Wait! You made me fall off the map!” Natasha squeaks, her voice a mixture of exasperation and a hint of excitement. Her hands instinctively find your hips, holding you as if she’s afraid you might slip away.

You give her a gentle smile, leaning in so that your faces are mere inches apart. “I thought you were going to help me study,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a soft, coaxing tone. You press your hands to her shoulders, letting your fingers trail along her collarbone, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens under your touch.

“I… I was,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, and you catch the slight tremble in her voice. “I just… my game.”

You tilt her chin up, making her meet your gaze, and she blushes even deeper, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips as her eyes grow wide, almost vulnerable. “Natty,” you say, your voice laced with playful patience, “I really need you to focus on me now. History, please.”

Her mouth opens slightly, as though she wants to argue, but all that comes out is a breathy whisper. “Okay.”

You hold Natasha’s gaze, the intensity in her eyes gradually overpowering her initial shyness. Her fingers rest on your hips, hesitant and yet possessive, as though she’s still trying to find some control in this position. Her breath catches each time you shift even slightly, and you can feel her heartbeat racing beneath your touch, each little change in her demeanour making her even more endearing.

You run your thumb along her jawline, feeling the delicate skin beneath, and she lets out a soft breath, her lips parting as she unconsciously leans into your touch. Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips, as if she’s desperately waiting for some kind of signal, a sign that she’s allowed to give in completely.

“Natasha,” you murmur, bringing your face close enough to feel her breath mingling with yours, “what are the key similarities, and how do the t<o regimes differ?”

She hums, her cheeks a soft shade of pink, but words seem to fail her. The hand on your hip trembles slightly, as though she wants to pull you closer but doesn’t dare to, not without permission. You feel the tension building, a mix of her nervousness and desire, and it only makes you want to pull her in even more.

Finally, you press a feather-light kiss to her cheek, just next to her ear, and whisper, “Come on, Natty. Think, please. Need your pretty self to explain it to me.”

She shivers under your touch, swallowing as she tries to remember the words. “Um… right, the… they didn’t have religious freedom,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. The fingers on your hip dig in just slightly, a mix of nerves and need as she fights to keep her focus. “Orthodoxy– uh, there were lots of violent riots… against Muslims, but mostly Jews. Those were called pogroms and… oh…”

Her wordds trail off as you tilt her chin slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her blush deepens, and you feel the way her body responds, her tension giving way to a faint tremor as she tries to keep talking.

“You’re so good at this,” you whisper, guiding her with gentle encouragement. “But I’m going to need a little more focus from you if we’re going to get through all this history.”

Her breath catches, and she nods, biting her lip as she tries to concentrate. “I can focus,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. Her gaze stays locked onto yours, her wide eyes full of innocence mixed with a yearning she can’t quite hide.

Her fingers finally slide up your sides, settling on the dip of your waist with a delicate grip, as though she’s terrified of doing too much, yet completely unwilling to let go. You smile softly, placing a hand over hers, squeezing in silent encouragement, and her blush deepens, her eyes darting away for just a second.

But you don’t let her break eye contact for long. Tilting her chin back to you, you brush your lips over hers in a kiss so soft it’s barely there, and she lets out a faint sigh, melting into the touch. Her grip tightens again, and you feel her breath hitch as you deepen the kiss just slightly, enough to make her toes curl beneath her chair.

“Tell me more,” you murmur, pausing just inches from her mouth, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating between you. “About the razzias. I want to hear you explain it.”

Her lips part, her mind clearly racing to catch up, but she manages a shaky breath. “They just were um, a…,” she stammers, her voice a mix of strained focus and barely-restrained excitement. Her hands start to relax, as though she’s finding confidence in your guidance. “They… uh– it’s a reckoning against religious ideals.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in approval, your thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. “And then the revolution happened?”

Her eyes flicker down to your lips, and she swallows, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were two revolutions, technically. First, the February Revolution, and then the radicalised October Revolution.”

Her words start to blur into soft breaths as you lean closer, the warmth of her skin against yours heightening with each delicate touch. You feel her legs shift under you, and a soft gasp escapes her when you shift your weight in her lap, pressing yourself against her in a way that’s both innocent and electric. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes grow hazy, the careful focus she was trying to hold onto slipping with each passing second.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice soft and affectionate. Her lips part in a faint, breathless smile, and you feel her chest rise as she takes in a shaky breath, her grip on you tightening just a little more.

You tilt her head back, keeping her gaze locked on yours, letting your fingers trail down her throat, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your touch. Her eyes widen, a mixture of awe and anticipation in them as she watches your every move, her hands moving under your sweater like she’s trying to ground herself.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask softly, running a finger along her jawline, watching the way her breath catches in response.

She nods, unable to find words, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes hold that same innocent, almost pleading look, as though she’s begging you to take control, to guide her wherever you want.

You smile, letting your hand drift down from her jaw, fingers grazing along her collarbone, before you slowly trail down to her chest and stomach, where you can feel the rise and fall of her shallow breaths.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur, your words soothing yet commanding as you press a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickens under your lips. She shivers, a barely audible whimper escaping her lips, her wide eyes softening as she watches you, her gaze full of innocent trust.

“Natasha,” you whisper, drawing out her name like a gentle caress, “let me help you focus.” Her breath catches, and she gives a shaky nod, her hands tightening their grip on the chair. You slowly lower yourself from her lap, letting your hands slide down the smooth skin of her thighs, feeling the way her body tenses under your touch only to relax as you continue, inching her knees apart.

Her blush deepens, and you can feel her shyness mingling with anticipation as her skirt rides up, revealing the growing hardness pressing against the fabric of her boxers. You let your fingers trace along her inner thigh, watching the way she trembles slightly at each delicate touch. Her wide eyes remain fixed on yours, that blend of vulnerability and desire making your own heart race as you take her in.

“Relax for me,” you murmur, running your hands gently along her thighs. You reach up to brush your fingers over the fabric straining to hold her in, and her lips part in a soft, involuntary moan, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she squirms in her seat.

With slow, deliberate movements, you slide her underwear down, watching the way her member springs free, her blush turning crimson as she looks away for a moment, a mixture of nervousness and excitement flickering across her face. You press a gentle kiss along her inner thigh, easing her legs further apart and taking in her reactions, savouring each shiver, each small gasp that escapes her lips. When you move your mouth closer to her length, you look up at her, waiting until her gaze meets yours.

Once it does, you bring your mouth to her, pressing a feather-light kiss along her shaft, and her reaction is instant—her hips jerk slightly, and she lets out a trembling breath, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair as she tries to stay still. Her breath hitches with every movement, her wide eyes looking down at you, filled with both awe and that same sweet shyness that makes her all the more endearing.

Slowly, you take her into your mouth, your tongue gliding over her, humming at the way she gasps, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. You can feel her body tense under your touch, the warmth of her length in your mouth, and the way she squirms with each gentle movement. Her breathing becomes ragged, her cheeks flushed as her lashes flutter, struggling to keep eye contact.

“Just relax, Natty,” you murmur between gentle caresses, pausing only to offer soft words of encouragement, letting her feel the warmth of your breath against her sensitive skin. “You’re doing so well.”

Her eyes soften further at your words, her lips parted in a soft, breathless smile as she gives a faint nod, her entire body melting under your touch. She lets out a quiet, shaky moan as you continue, her hips shifting involuntarily, her breath hitching each time your mouth moves a little deeper. The look in her eyes—vulnerable yet trusting—only fuels your desire to take her further.

You increase your pace just slightly, watching the way her eyes grow hazier with each passing second, her fingers now reaching out, finding your shoulder as if she needs something to hold onto. The desperation in her gaze, the slight whimpers that escape her lips, all signal how close she’s getting. You pause, pulling back just enough to look up at her, watching the way she struggles to catch her breath.

“You’re so good, Natasha,” you murmur, words muffled by her heat in you, enjoying the way she shivers under the praise. “But don’t let go just yet. I want to take my time with you.”

Her blush deepens at the command, and she nods, swallowing hard as she holds back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to control herself. You press a soft kiss to her length, smiling at the way she bites her lip, her fingers still clutching your shoulder as she gives herself over to your touch.

With her breaths growing more ragged, you let your hand slide down her thigh, resting at the base of her length as you ease back, switching from the warmth of your mouth to the gentle grip of your hand. Natasha whimpers softly, her lashes fluttering as she watches you with that wide-eyed, innocent gaze. Her hands grip the arms of her chair for stability, her cheeks flushed and lips parted as you begin to stroke her slowly, savouring each reaction.

“Does that feel good, Natty?” you murmur, watching the way her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she nods, her entire body leaning toward your touch.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a need she’s struggling to hold back. You watch the way her chest rises and falls, each shuddering breath making her more vulnerable, more open to your every move.

You increase the pressure slightly, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has her toes curling, her wide eyes looking down at you with unguarded adoration. You can see how close she is, her face a mix of tension and awe as she clutches at her chair, her mouth falling open in a soft gasp when you switch back to your mouth, taking her in once again.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling, barely audible. She shifts in her seat, her grip tightening as she fights to stay composed, though the desperation in her voice betrays her.

“You want more?” you murmur, pulling back just enough to look up at her, letting your breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She nods frantically, her gaze pleading, as though she’s ready to beg for you to keep going. Her vulnerability makes your heart race, and you lean back in, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her length before taking her in your hand again.

Each change between your mouth and hand drives her closer to that edge, her quiet, broken moans growing more frequent as her body responds to your every touch. You take your time, alternating between gentle strokes and teasing kisses, watching the way her resolve unravels completely. Her hips move instinctively, seeking more, her breath shallow and desperate.

Finally, you slow your pace, watching the way she shudders in response, her gaze hazy and her body fully at peace yet trembling in your hands. “I told you, Natty,” you whisper, pausing to press a kiss to her thigh, “I’m taking my time with you.”

She lets out a shaky exhale, her hands falling from the chair to clutch at your shoulders, her breathing still erratic as she tries to hold herself back. But you can see the way she’s teetering on that edge, fully surrendered to you.

As you continue to alternate between using your hand and mouth, her wide, vulnerable gaze grows more unfocused, her lips parting as her body instinctively responds to you. But just when you think she’s letting herself fall into your pace, you feel her fingers tangle in your hair, firm but trembling, gently pressing down, silently urging you to take her deeper.

The sudden assertiveness surprises you, but you comply, letting her guide you, feeling the way her grip tightens slightly, the desperation in her touch almost pleading. Her quiet whimpers grow louder, echoing in the room as she watches you, her gaze dark with fascination, completely enraptured by the sight of you surrendering to her need.

“Oh, please…” she murmurs, her voice a breathy whisper, barely containing herself. You feel her body shiver as you take her deeper, her soft gasp filling the air. Her eyes, usually so innocent and shy, are now dark with awe, wide and almost worshipful, as though she can barely believe what she’s seeing. She bites her lip, her face flushed, her expression somewhere between a plea and an apology, completely mesmerised by the sight of you.

Finally, feeling your control slip in her grasp, you tap her thigh, and she releases her grip on your hair immediately, looking down at you with that same innocent gaze, as if wondering if she’s overstepped. Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze shy once again, as she watches you with bated breath, clearly unsure of your next move.

Standing up slowly, you meet her gaze, your eyes smouldering as you reach down and slip off your underwear, letting the fabric fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Natasha’s eyes widen, her cheeks a deeper pink as her gaze travels from your face down the length of your body, lingering on the hem of your sweater as if transfixed by the contrast.

Before she can fully take in the sight, you reach for her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you tug her up from the chair, her body following your movements without hesitation. She gasps softly, her breath catching as she’s pulled to her feet, her wide, adoring eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Strip for me,” you command, your voice low, leaving no room for argument. You release her hair, your touch lingering for just a second as you make your way to her bed, settling yourself atop her scattered history notes, the crinkling of the papers the only sound breaking the silence. She watches, her blush deepening, clearly entranced by the sight of you lying there, completely at ease and in control. Her hands go to the hem of her skirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she begins to undress, her gaze never leaving yours.

Natasha’s fingers tremble slightly as she slides off her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her shirt soon follows, revealing the flushed skin of her chest and the slight rise and fall of her breath as she finally stands in front of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker between your gaze and your body sprawled out over her history notes, her cheeks flushed with both shyness and desire. You stretch out comfortably, your sweater rucked up just enough to tease her, watching her with that same confident, hungry look that’s left her at your mercy all evening.

“Come here, Natty,” you murmur, your voice firm but soft. She steps forward, her movements hesitant but her gaze locked on you, and you guide her down onto the bed until she’s hovering over you, her body settling between your legs. Her breath catches as she takes you in, her wide, adoring eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath her, looking up at her with that unwavering, confident smile that’s made her melt all night.

As Natasha hovers above you, her body fitting perfectly between your legs, you can feel the nervous tremble in her limbs, her cheeks flushed as she takes in the sight of you lying beneath her, waiting. Her wide eyes, so shy and adoring, sweep over your face and then down, drinking in every inch of your body, as though each glance leaves her more entranced. Her lips part slightly, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she steadies herself, hands resting tentatively on either side of you.

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands and guiding her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling the heat radiate off her skin. She melts into you, her body instinctively pressing down, filling the space between you as her lips respond, moving tenderly yet hungrily, every kiss leaving her more breathless. With a gentle nudge, you guide her hips forward, feeling her length brush against your entrance, and she lets out a soft, broken gasp, her face flushed a deep pink as she begins to press into you.

You hum, running your hands through her hair, tugging gently to pull her closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. She gasps against your mouth, her lips parting as you deepen the kiss, feeling her shiver as she responds, her body pressing eagerly into yours. She lets out a soft, desperate moan as she slides inside, her hands gripping the sheets beside you.

“Oh,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, her eyes fluttering shut as she feels the warmth of your body surrounding her, enveloping her in a way that leaves her trembling. Her breath hitches, and she clutches the sheets beside you, her hands forming tight fists as she adjusts to the feeling, her gaze filled with wonder as she looks down at you.

“Good girl,” you whisper, watching the way her face softens at the praise, her body shuddering as she begins to move, her hips rolling forward in slow, tentative strokes. You feel each careful movement, each deliberate inch of her body pressing into yours, her lips parted in a quiet moan, her eyes half-lidded as she loses herself in the rhythm, her shy gaze growing more intense with each passing second.

With every thrust, her body trembles, her gaze filled with a raw vulnerability as though she’s giving herself to you completely, utterly. She clutches the sheets even tighter, her breathing quickening, her eyes never leaving yours as she moves deeper, her breath coming in soft, desperate pants.

“That’s it, Natty,” you murmur, running a hand along her cheek, feeling the way her breath catches at your touch. “Just like that.”

Her lips part in response, a soft whimper escaping her as her hips begin to move faster, her body pressing into yours with a growing urgency that she can barely control. She shivers, the need and intensity in her gaze building with every touch, every whispered word of encouragement. Her lashes flutter as she looks down at you, her cheeks a deep shade of pink, her expression vulnerable, almost pleading, as though she wants more but can barely bring herself to ask for it.

“Right there, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft, just loud enough for her to hear. The word slips from your lips easily, and you watch the way her entire being responds—the tremor in her hips, the widening of her eyes, the soft, desperate whine that falls from her lips. Her face and neck flush a deeper, unmistakable red, and for a moment, she looks at you with pure, unguarded awe, her expression caught between disbelief and overwhelming need.

Her hands tremble, her hips stuttering as she takes in the title, her body pressing instinctively deeper as though the sound alone draws her closer to the edge. “Daddy,” you whisper again, watching her face as she loses herself in the word, her expression filling with a blend of shyness and barely contained desire.

“P-please…” she stammers, her voice trembling, almost breaking as she holds herself back, her body trembling with the strain of it. “I… I need…”

You reach up, running your hand through her hair, guiding her gaze back to yours. “It’s okay, Natty,” you murmur, your voice soft, coaxing. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Her wide eyes fill with a deep, unrestrained need, and she lets out a soft, shaky exhale, her hands sliding from the sheets to grip your waist, holding you as though grounding herself. Her movements grow more erratic, her hips pressing deeper, her body responding to every encouraging word, every touch, as though completely under your control.

As she moves, you see the way she loses herself in each thrust, her face flushed, her mouth open as her breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. She looks down at you with that same innocent, adoring gaze, but now, there’s something more—something raw, a hunger she can barely contain. Her hips press forward, filling you completely, her body shuddering as she reaches the edge, her wide eyes pleading, searching your gaze for permission.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, and you feel the way her body reacts, her grip tightening on your waist as she shudders, her hips jerking forward in a desperate, trembling thrust. Her eyes close as she gasps, her head falling forward as she loses herself completely, spilling into you with a soft, broken moan, her body pressing close, clinging to you as though she’s never felt anything so intense.

As Natasha trembles on top of you, her body pressed close, you feel every soft, shivering breath she takes, the weight of her against you as she finally lets go, spilling into you. Her head dips forward, eyes tightly shut, her lips parted in a quiet, desperate gasp as she comes, the warmth of her release filling you, a slow, deep pulse that seems to steal the breath from her lungs. Her grip tightens on your waist as if she’s clinging to you, grounding herself in the sensation, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

You can feel her chest rising and falling against you, her breaths ragged and shallow as she lets out a soft whimper, the vulnerability in her voice making your heart swell. Her hips press forward with each wave, as though she wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling every inch of her warmth, every pulse, spill into you, marking you in a way that’s both intimate and utterly consuming.

Each pulse of her release sends a shiver through her, her breathing shallow and uneven as she slowly comes down from the high, her eyes fluttering open, looking down at you with a dazed, awestruck expression. She looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and worship, her cheeks still flushed, her lips parted in a soft, blissful smile.

You brush a hand along her cheek, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as she takes a deep, steadying breath, her hands still holding you close, as though she can’t bear to let go.

“Natty,” you murmur, running your hands through her hair, guiding her face up to meet your gaze. Her eyes open slowly, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you, her gaze soft, overwhelmed, filled with a raw, unguarded adoration that she can’t hide. Her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, her expression completely mesmerised as though she can barely believe you’re here, beneath her, accepting every bit of her.

A soft, blissful smile tugs at her lips, her hand moving up to gently cradle your face as she leans in, pressing a delicate, lingering kiss to your lips, her breaths still heavy, warm. She holds you like this, savouring the closeness, the feel of you wrapped around her, the warmth of her release settling within you.

Finally, she shifts, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes wide, her breath still uneven, as though she’s only just starting to come back to herself. She looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing your jawline softly, reverently.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammers, her face flushing deeper, her shy gaze flicking away for a moment.

But you smile, reaching up to cup her face, bringing her gaze back to yours, your voice soft and reassuring. “Natty… it’s okay,” you murmur, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I wanted this, too. I asked.”

She lets out a soft, relieved exhale, her body relaxing as she sinks into you, her arms wrapping around you, holding you as though afraid to let go. You feel her heartbeat gradually slow, her warmth enveloping you, her gaze still soft, full of that same innocent awe as she watches you, completely lost in the moment.

As Natasha catches her breath, her fingers lingering on your skin as though afraid to break the closeness between you, she finally shifts to pull out, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping her lips. She watches with wide, almost mesmerised eyes as your bodies separate, and her gaze drops to the way your mixed warmth slowly begins to spill out of you, the evidence of everything you’ve shared glistening in the low light.

Her lips part, her cheeks flushed as her gaze stays fixed, almost transfixed, and she can’t hide the blush that rises as she takes it all in. She’s caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief, her wide eyes drinking in every detail as though this might all disappear any second.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer, Natty,” you tease, your smirk playful, voice soft, cutting through her daze. She looks up, startled, blinking as she registers your words. But after a second, she lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her blush deepening as she reaches over to grab her phone, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She snaps a quick picture, her gaze flicking between the screen and you, clearly savouring every second. The reverence in her expression makes your heart skip, a feeling of pride filling you as you watch her.

Once she’s put the phone aside, she reaches over with a soft, sheepish smile, helping you sit up and adjust yourself. Her gaze softens, that shy, affectionate look taking over as she wraps her arms around you, holding you close, savouring the warmth that lingers between you both.

And then she glances at the bed, a small, nervous laugh escaping as she spots her carefully scattered history notes—now crinkled, a little rumpled, with more than a few slightly smudged edges. Without missing a beat, she moves to gather them, straightening the papers, her cheeks still a warm shade of pink as she moves to tidy up.

a/n- apologies if this is the worst piece i've written LOL i've been surviving on a few hours of sleep for the past few days- big thanks to jess for somehow helping me get through this, i'll let you keep your ps5. sigh. i'd still build a princess castle tho.

[alchemistc]

He's drunk when he sends it. Pissed because Buck won't just let this die. Tired of seeing his name flash across his screen, texts full of anger and sadness and hurt.

I suspect you've already met your last and it's not me he sends, and then turns off his phone and reaches for the bottle of whiskey on his top shelf.

---

If he'd been sober he would have known better. It's not even like it's been a pervasive thought - just an inkling at the start of things that seemed to be completely off base once he got to know everyone better, but looking back... He can see it. The built in life. The steadfast support. The knowledge that they'd always, always have each other's back. The kid who hero worshipped him.

The thing is he's fielding texts from Eddie, too, checking in and then circling around to being so goddamn judgmental that it's like they've coordinated their attacks to give Tommy no room to breathe.

He ended it to save himself from slipping so far under the surface he wouldn't make it back.

The fact that he's lost them both to his own fear is icing on the cake for the demon on his shoulder that keeps trying to remind him that once upon a time he'd fully thought Eddie and Buck were amicable exes.

---

He has to blink to figure out who's standing on his doorstep. The mustache is gone.

"If you meant who I think you mean, you're dumber than you look," Eddie says, and shoulders past Tommy before Tommy can even muster an affronted expression.

Tommy wanders after Eddie into his own kitchen, immediately annoyed that he looks more at home there than Tommy has felt in weeks. He'd gotten used to the loft - the space, the echoes, the lights of the city. The smell of his own aftershave on Buck's pillow.

They never spent much time here. The loft was closer - to Harbor, to the 118, to all the things in the city that tempted them out for a night. And staying at the loft meant he wouldn't have the echoes of Buck in every room, around every corner. (The echoes are in him, instead, and he still feels the absence like a lanced wound.) Tommy has always been good at making other people think he's good at putting distance between himself and them.

Eddie digs in a drawer, pulls out the bottle opener shaped like a cow and pops two tops. Holds one out for Tommy and scowls when Tommy wrinkles his nose at the Corona.

"Absolutely screw you if you think I'm driving halfway across town for you just to get the ones you like, right now."

Tommy can't argue that. He takes a drag and swallows. Stares. Is everyone else experiencing whiplash seeing him without the mustache? It looks fine but it'd taken so much fucking work to get used to it and now it's just gone. Clean shaven, an acre of skin he hasn't seen in months.

Tommy blinked and the entire world was different. Tommy freaked and the world changed.

"What are you doing here?"

Eddie's eyebrows both lift, a frank Are You Fucking Serious look on his face that makes Tommy want to take him to the mats and have it out in the garage instead of over beers.

"Buck may be spinning his wheels trying to figure out what the fuck you meant but I know damn well what you were implying."

That seems unlikely. Eddie always seems to be the last person to have a single clue what was going on, with Buck scraping in just before him. It's a tight race.

He used to find it charming.

(He absolutely does not still find it charming, he tells his heart, and wonders if he could hire some tiny asshole gnome to go stomp around in an atrium or two and get it to stop doing what it's doing. Fucking traitor.)

"Do you actually believe that, or is it some dumb excuse because you're terrified of being happy?"

Oh, that's fucking rich.

Tommy opens his mouth to tell him exactly that but Eddie just steamrolls right by him. "You don't have to point out the hypocrisy, jackass. I'm well aware of my own issues. Thing is - you're like, almost right. Buck does make me happy. Next to Chris there's no one else in the world I'd rather have by my side, rain or shine, good or bad. I love him. He's my person."

Tommy rolls his jaw. It's not a vindication to hear it.

"Except I'm not gay, Tommy. And I don't want that. I never have. And neither does Buck, just in case that argument was about to hit the airwaves."

"How do you know?"

Something sparks in the back of Eddie's eyes. Understanding. Triumph.

"You want an itemized list or a demonstration?"

Which is when Tommy knows he's stepped into an absolute minefield. No markers. Just free balling his way through a conversation that could explode with even the slightest pressure.

Eddie's got his phone out.

None of this is ideal.

When he looks up, his eyes land squarely on Tommy, who would like in this moment to be able to curl so far in on himself he gets sucked clean through the other side. "First of all, Buck may have just been improvising his entire journey of sexuality but for once I was trying to get ahead of the curve so that whole starry-eyed newly not straight vision you have of Buck is bullshit. You let him pull you along by the shirt strings for months without pressing pause and then you freak out when he thinks his speed and your speed are the same speed?"

This is feeling a whole lot like an ambush, now.

"Did you ever even try to slow him down?"

Tommy has some choice words that aren't remotely appropriate to say to someone who is at least tangentially still his friend, so he takes another swig of shitty beer. God, this shit is awful.

"You wanna know how I know I'm not his one? How I know he's not mine?"

Tommy really, really doesn't. Honestly he'd like to kick him out.

"Because he went at our friendship at the same warp speed pace he took your relationship and it never fucking scared me."

Proof in the pudding, for Tommy. He's not the sort of jackass who actually thinks he can make a different judgement call on someone else's sexuality than the one they've made themselves, but come on.

"Shannon's been dead for half a decade," Eddie says, voice dropping so suddenly Tommy feels it like an icy draft. "And maybe one day I'll make my peace with that. Maybe one day I'll get out from under it. The point is I've lost them both and the loss wasn't the goddamn same."

"Buck came back," Tommy argues.

Eddie scoffs. Wrinkles his nose. "Jeez, he wasn't kidding about how weird that sounds." His phone buzzes on the countertop, and Tommy wonders what the hell that look on his face means. "Don't change the subject. I'm not here to talk you into anything. I'm just here to drink a beer with you and tell you how goddamn stupid it is to think that an uncertain future with Evan Buckley isn't worth every second of terror it causes you."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

Eddie tips the bottle against his lips. Swallows. God, why hadn't Tommy just pursued the self-proclaimed straight guy for a couple weeks before he scratched the itch somewhere else and kept a friend, instead?

"Maybe." Eddie tips his head. "Maybe I do, though. Maybe in the months and months you were invited to all my mopey nights in with Buck and all the crazy crap we end up involved in at the station and all the times you couldn't shut up about him when he wasn't around and all the times I got to see you falling ass over teakettle for my best friend, I learned a fucking thing or two about Tommy Kinard." He wags his head back and forth. "Maybe."

"Is there a point to this?"

Eddie tips his eyes to his phone, and it's probably too late at this point for the suspicion to begin to creep in.

"I mostly just came to confront you about your completely off base bullshit excuses, but there's actually a pretty simple solution to at least one of your multitude of issues, so. Now we're waiting."

Tommy doesn't like the sound of that at all.

"Chris is mad at you, by the way."

It's a distraction. It's fully a - "Why is he mad at me?"

"I should actually thank you, because it's the first time he's actively talked to me in months," Eddie continues, like Tommy hadn't asked a question. "He's pissed because Buck is sad and there's literally nothing in the world that gets a rise out of the Diaz boys like sad Buck."

"You can just say you're pissed at me and go, Eddie."

"Oh I'm angry. Don't think I'm not. Mostly I'm just sad for you. You had six months to get to know Buck and never thought to yourself 'hes going to love me and it's going to hurt' until he skipped too far ahead in the program."

And that's - kind of the final straw. He's let Eddie get his licks in. He deserves it, he knows he does. Honestly it's a little cathartic to hear - to know exactly what Buck has spent his time dissecting post-Tommy. "That's all I ever thought about. Do you think I didn't know going in? I tried to put a stop to it before it even started and he just doubled down! Do you think for a second I wasn't viscously aware that I was setting myself up for -."

No. He's not gonna say it. He's not giving that to Eddie when he couldn't even give it to Ev-Buck. When he couldn't give it to Buck.

Eddie looks victorious anyway.

"And for six months you thought it was worth it."

"For six months I was too much of a coward to stop thinking about it."

Eddie drains the rest of his beer. "I'm not gonna lie. You screwed up pretty bad. Like. Astronomically bad. Giving up your location in a firefight bad."

Tommy does everything he can not to wince.

"It's salvageable, though. If you want it to be. If there's anything I know about Buck it's that second chances are his bread and butter." He's been dancing around saying anything of substance about Buck's feelings, in all of this, but the hints are there. As if the bouts of angry-depressive texts from Buck weren't clue enough.

"And what if it's not what I want?"

Eddie's eyes dart to his phone one more time. "Then you can make it a clean break in about ... three and a half minutes."

Tommy nearly tosses his beer across the room.