#also an excuse to put him in a dress again

[sageadvice]

[ Antoine x Evka - Modern Thedas, Plant Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU Crack Fic ]

Writing that last chapter of my current Rookanis fic was really difficult, mostly due to life events and lack of energy, and though I pushed through and will absolutely not be pivoting away from that (boy am I excited for the Lucanis angst coming in the next chapter heh) I did have to take a break and work on something a little more wholesome, silly even, to derive some joy from the act of writing again.

So, on a that note, please enjoy whatever the heck this is:

(Note: contains hints of Lucans x Neve, Rook x Davrin, and Varric x Cassandra also)

Antoine remembered the moment he fell in love with Evka Ivo as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

It had been a rainy Wednesday morning, early (far too early for Antoine, who was not a morning person). He had been waiting in the alleyway behind his plant shop for the delivery of a new cooler that was scheduled to arrive at 7 am (it was twenty minutes late and counting). The chill of late fall was biting at the tips of his ears and the soft cotton hood of his jacket was insufficient to prevent shivers. Five more minutes, he had chanted to himself, bouncing on his toes—five more minutes and then he would retreat into the greenhouse-environment of his shop and call the delivery company.

Unfortunately, five minutes was one too many.

He hadn’t thought anything of the approaching figures at first. They weren’t there to deliver a six-foot cooler, certainly, but the alleyway ran along the back of many different shops and businesses. It was reasonably common to see strangers darting about, making deliveries or rummaging through the dumpsters in the early hours before too many people arrived to get in their way. Antoine tried to ignore them, but his curiosity got the better of him and he kept glancing over, wondering why they were laughing and staggering about in the cold rain at this time of day. There were three, all dressed in dark, rough clothes with large hooded jackets. Their boots fell heavy into puddles, the splashing sounds getting louder as they grew closer. They were not extremely tall, but they were taller than him. (It was not hard to be.)

Antoine leaned forward to get a better look. They’d paused beside the back door to the private investigator’s office, two buildings down. One of them had crouched, putting the handle (and lock) at eye level while the other two hovered nearby, shielding him from view and periodically glancing down the alley.

(He remembered these details so well because he had had to recount all of it to the investigators later.)

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” It was very clear what they were doing, but he was fatally incapable of not giving strangers the benefit of the doubt.

They froze when they heard him, and turned. A shiver unrelated to the cold raced across Antoine’s skin. They were about thirty feet away. He knew he should have run, then—the door to his shop was a mere arm’s length behind him—but the thought didn’t even occur to him in the moment.

One of them muttered to the other ones, eliciting laughter and jeering. White teeth flashed from shadowed depths, indiscriminate faces, and here is where the details grew a bit hazy.

“Stop that,” he demanded, stepping in their direction. “Get away from there!”

The crouched one stood up as they all stalked toward him.

“This is a restricted area,” Antoine shouted. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest. “Please, partez! I will call security.”

He did not know why he said it. Technically, it wasn’t a restricted area. Also, technically, there was no security around the Lighthouse, though Antoine had a ready list of names to call if he needed someone to support his bluff. His phone, however, was uselessly inside.

One of them said something then, in a mocking tone, pointing. Antoine hadn’t heard him well, but the later head trauma was the more likely culprit for why he didn’t have a clue what had been said. Mostly, he recalled a sense of panic upon realizing that 1) he was in immediate danger and 2) his apparent natural instinct was to hold his ground, not flee. If he ran, they would go back to breaking into the office; there was no guarantee he could find help in time. But maybe he could hold their focus long enough for someone to come and chase them away.

This will not end well for me, he definitely remembered thinking.

The first strike was a fist to the diaphragm. Antoine doubled over as the air was forcibly evicted from his lungs, but there was no immediate follow up. They laughed, expected him to just take it. Instead, he sucked in a breath and tackled the closest one to the ground.

They landed with a disorienting splash into a puddle of water and tangle of limbs. The larger man immediately tossed Antoine off and drove his fist into his jaw. Antoine’s hands went up, instinctively blocking, and he rolled away just as the man drew back for another go. His fist hit wet asphalt, but Antoine didn’t have time to appreciate his quickness—the other two grabbed him up as if he weighed nothing and tossed him bodily into the metal bins nearby.

He groaned as the world swam sideways. The crash was cacophonous, but that was probably what had saved his life. Antoine had seemingly hit every single hard edge there was to be found, based on how much his limbs were screaming. As the bins dumped their contents into the alleyway, one of the men reached into the heap and grabbed him up by his shirt, then shoved him back to the bricks. They bit into his skull, sparking stars. A fist landed against his cheek, then another against his temple. He lifted his arms in defense but they were useless. He kicked out with his feet but didn’t have the strength to do more than annoy his attacker. Another hit brought the acrid taste of blood into his mouth. The world was very dark around the edges, his breathing very ragged.

He had just enough time to regret being such a fool before a metal door slammed open with a BANG.

“HEY! DROP HIM!”

The attackers laughed again, but they shouldn’t have.

Despite the haze and the rain, Antoine knew her. Evka, that striking tattoo snaking across her face as she barreled forward in all her rage and glory. There was something in her hands. Antoine would learn later that it was a metal bat.

One threat was all the attackers got. Evka swung low and struck true, and Antoine suddenly found himself on the ground again, looking up at the scene.

It was something otherworldly—a dreamlike vision, too unlikely to be believed in his dazed state. She fought like she knew what she was doing, not the least bit hesitant in the face of three much taller, larger bodies. She was also quick, quicker than one might assume. How she managed to dodge such random kicks, strike at seemingly random opportunities, he hardly comprehended. It was fascinating and beautiful, a dance and a puzzle being solved all at once.

It was impossible to say in the moment how much time was passing. Every second felt like a lifetime. But just as Evka’s bat rebounded off one of the attacker’s knees, making him crumple to the ground, headlights beamed straight at them from the end of the alleyway, reflecting off every watery surface like a funhouse mirror maze filled with fairy lights.

The attackers cursed, panicked, and bolted for the opposite end of the alley, limping but quick enough to get away.

Evka’s bat clanged against the asphalt as she ran straight over to Antoine and crouched in the water and trash.

“Antoine?” Her voice was both very close and very far away. It was difficult to make out her features, but he could feel her hands gently cradling the sides of his face. “Talk to me!”

He grinned at her, or made the attempt. It was probably horrific, given how much blood was in his mouth. The shivers had taken over—shock and adrenaline. Breathing was laborious. His eyes tried to swell shut but he blinked to clear them, determined to do as she commanded.

“No one has ever fought for me.” Of all the things to say, he had to choose that pathetic confession? Even years later he would find himself occasionally staring at the wall, stewing in mortification as he recalled it and shuddered.

“You shouldn’t have been fighting at all,” she admonished. “Stone’s mercy there’s—there’s a lot of blood…”

Something about that was wobbly, but it went away with her next criticism.

“Why on earth did you not call for help?”

He had no good answer. Logical decision making was rarely his friend, unfortunately.

A heavy car door slammed. “What the hell?”

The voice came from whoever had just climbed out of the truck now parked behind Evka. The headlights, of course—the delivery. Antoine would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so badly.

Evka sniffed and rose to her feet, turning to speak to the woman as she leaned around to peer at Antoine.

“Call emergency services, please. My friend’s just been attacked.”

The last thought Antoine had before blacking out was that friends was a very good place to start.

…

Much time had passed since then. Antoine didn’t like thinking of the period directly following the attack—a hospital stay, a lot of physical therapy, and months of healing from the overall trauma. He’d managed, with the help of a therapist, to whittle the nightmares down to once or twice a month at most, and through the kindness of community his shop had continued to operate in the interim. His gratitude was boundless, and he worked very hard to show it.

Especially to Evka.

Before the attack, he had only known her for a few months. She and her friend ran a tattoo parlor in the business space directly beside his plant shop. Evka was the primary owner, keeping the books and managing the appointments, while her co-owner, Rook, did most of the actual tattoo art. With only the two of them, business was slow, but both women seemed to prefer that.

When Antoine finally made it back to a regular work schedule, the first thing he did was send them flowers. Lots of flowers. Every evening he would prepare an arrangement, then have it delivered the next morning when he first got to work. It was Rook who received them, since she stayed in the front, but he made sure to address the small notes on the cards to them both.

But after a week of this, Evka came stomping into his shop in the middle of the day, hands on her hips, with a look of intense focus on her face. She had her hair in her usual braids and was bundled up in a blue coat and brown knit scarf to protect against the winter frost outside.

Antoine grinned at her from behind the counter as his heart did funny things inside his chest. He had not been prepared to find her in his space that morning and though of course it was not the first time, the sight was all the more pleasing for being unexpected. She had visited him in the hospital, and accompanied him to file a police report, but it had been a few weeks since he’d had a chance to speak with her and at no point had they really been alone. Catching her passing by his shop window on her way around the Lighthouse was simply not enough.

“Evka! It is lovely to see you.” That was an understatement. Every moment he was in her presence, alive, aware, felt like a miracle. But he knew that would overwhelm her to hear and kept to a warm, polite standard instead.

“You have to stop,” she said.

“I’m sorry?”

“The flowers. The deliveries.” She shook her head. “They have to stop.”

Antoine felt his brows shoot up. “Ah, you do not like flowers?” He doubted this. He had been certain to ask Rook whether she minded cut flowers before sending them. Rook had assured him that Evka loved flowers—small, blue ones in particular.

“It’s not that,” she sighed, shifting on her feet. “It’s just…it’s too much. You don’t need to continue thanking me.”

“But I am still grateful,” he protested.

“I appreciate that, but you’ve told me, Antoine. Multiple times. Words are enough—can’t we just put it behind us?”

There was a hint in there, a slight note of distress. The way her eyebrows tugged together tore at his heart. What was it? Perhaps the flowers were an unpleasant reminder of a difficult experience and not simple gift. This was truly a bothersome thing for her, it seemed. Maker, he had made a terrible mistake.

“My sincere apologies,” he said after a moment, struggling with how much it hurt him to relent. This was good, actually, he tried to tell himself. Evka was being honest with him, communicating her feelings while trying to be kind about it. If she didn’t care, she would probably have simply said her thanks and thrown the flowers out. But he had to look down at his hands, lest he crack open. All that therapy, yet he still had difficulty with sudden emotional shifts. When would it ever go away, he wondered? “I did not mean to burden you.”

“Shit,” she swore, surprising him. “No, no—Antoine, listen,” she stepped closer, hands half raised. “It’s not a burden. I just—I don’t—it’s a—it’s me! Okay? It’s just me. I’m…I’m…” There was a long pause. “Allergic.”

It was suddenly deathly quiet in the plant shop. Only the ambient hum from the cooler filled the silence.

Antoine peeked up at her to find her face quite flushed, her shoulders tense, almost braced. A rabbit trying to decide if it should bolt. He had to process what she had said.

“You are allergic to flowers?”

She nodded stiffly, expression somewhat grim. “Yep. That’s what I said.”

Ah. He pressed a hand to his forehead then combed his fingers through his hair. How terrible—perhaps Rook had not known? He felt deeply ashamed, if also a bit relieved. Yet, how horrible—a life without flowers was simply inconceivable to him.

“Désolé! I will cease the deliveries to you at once.” His mind was working quickly, his feet starting to tap against the tile floor.

Evka’s shoulders had relaxed slightly at his words. “Thank you.”

“How about a plant instead?”

His question went unanswered. She blinked at him, her lips parted, appearing not to comprehend.

“Yes!” He clapped his hands, pleased with his own solution, stepping out from behind the counter and walking over to a display stand. His eyes scanned the rows of green, leafy plants as he considered which one suited Evka the most. Mother-in-law-tongue? Absolutely not.

“This is perfect. Something still alive, and without pollen. Perhaps a pothos—ah, no! This!” He plucked a hanging planter from a hook near the wall and brought it back to her, presenting it triumphantly. “*Philodendron hederaceum*!”

Evka was now staring at him like he had three heads. Fortunately he was quite used to that.

“It is usually called the sweetheart plant, because the leaves are shaped like hearts, you see?” He beamed with pride as he lifted a trailing leaf with his free hand. “They are very hearty, easy to care for. Perfect for businesses! And also not a flower, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed, seemingly at a loss for words as he pressed the plant gently into her hands.

“Give it only room-temperature water when the soil is completely dry, and do not hang it in the window. It needs indirect sunlight. If you have any questions at all about its care, I will be happy to explain further.”

She nodded slowly, staring at the tangle of leaves.

This was better—subtler, thought Antoine. Rather than cut flowers which must inevitably wilt and die, a hearty, living thing would be a constant companion. Besides, he could visit her parlor now with the excuse of checking to see that it was growing well. He had to clasp his hands behind his back to keep the excitement inside.

“Again, I apologize for the flowers,” he reiterated. “I truly did not know. That must make it quite difficult for you, visiting other shops around the Lighthouse.”

Her brows knit in confusion. “Why?”

“You have not seen them?” Now he was the confused one. “I have flowers delivered to all the other shops too—the cafe, the pet store, the gym. Everyone was so kind to pitch in and keep my shop running in my absence, so...”

His deliveries to the other businesses were not as personal, of course, nor as distinctly pleasurable, but he did not mention that. He did not want to burden her further. The other shop owners had insisted on paying him for regular deliveries, noting that he would have helped them if the situation was reversed, and so special, discounted arrangements had been made instead. Now, the tables in Lucanis’ cafe always had fresh flowers in the center and there was always a bright, pet-safe bouquet next to Davrin’s register.

Evka’s face was even more red now than it had been before. “I don’t get to spend as much time as I’d like in the other shops.”

“Neither do I,” he sighed regretfully.

“Um…thank you, for the…heart plant,” Evka mumbled, holding it up until it partially obscured her face. Only her deep brown eyes peered up through the foliage.

Antoine smiled. “I wish there was more that I could do. You saved my life, Evka—I do not wish to undersell my gratitude for that. If you ever have need of me, in any capacity, I will be there for you.”

Perhaps that last bit had been a little too much. Evka merely nodded before turning and leaving the plant shop once more.

…

“Oof,” Rook cringed teasingly as Evka marched back into the tattoo parlor, heart-shaped leaf plant in hand, deep frown etched onto her face. “Failed, huh? He made that sad, kicked-puppy expression, didn’t he? No one can tell him no when he does that. Davrin caves to it every time.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Evka clipped, glaring at her friend as she stood there, bereft. “Shut up and help me hang this somewhere.”

Rook laughed but obliged her. Given that she was the tall one, hanging things was pretty much written into her contractual duties. She stood from the desk and took the plant—it was a very cute plant—and went toward the front of the shop.

“Here?”

“No, not by the window,” Evka sighed, sinking onto the sofa in the waiting area. “It needs ‘indirect sunlight,’ he said. And not too much water either.”

“Heart shaped and a bit of a diva, huh? She’ll fit right in here.” Rook pivoted and searched for a good way to fasten the plant near the workstation. Eventually, she settled on a nail that had once held a ceramic wyvern, but they’d given that to Lucanis ages ago. The planter was the kind with a flattened side so it could sit flush against the wall, right between a glass evil eye amulet and a poster explaining their rates. “Perfect.” She turned back to Evka, who looked like she was having a crisis. “You realize he’s in love with you, right?”

“It’s not love,” Evka snapped, gesturing as though the notion was ridiculous. “It’s just a misplaced sense of gratitude or a trauma imprint or something. It can’t last forever.”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but it absolutely can.” Rook plopped down on the sofa beside her and drew her legs up to sit cross-legged.

Her own opinion on the matter was that Antoine was exactly the sort of person Evka needed in her life, romantic or not. For as long as they’d known each other, Evka had been so deeply serious it was concerning. She devoted her whole life to this business, and was passionate about it, but happy? Not so much.

“Ugh. What am I going to do?” Suddenly Evka looked up to pin Rook with a betrayed glare. “And you! Why didn’t you tell me he was giving everyone else flowers also?”

Rook raised a brow. “I thought you knew that. Haven’t you seen them?”

The answer was obvious. Evka only grunted.

“Look,” said Rook, bracing her hands on her knees. “Why don’t you just…give it a shot, hm? Ask the poor boy out to eat lunch, or drink coffee, or walk in the park. Feel out the feelings, see what happens.”

“That would only encourage him. I’m trying to do the opposite of that.”

“But why? He’s cute. You’re single, he’s single. Sure, yeah, okay, maybe it’s not been long enough since the incident for either of you to be sure about your own opinions of each other, and I get that it can be really hard to disentangle attraction from gratitude from relief from trauma, but—”

“Is this going anywhere?”

“Don’t bite my head off, okay? I’m trying my best to help. Anyway, you’re standing in your own way here, and my point is if you show the boy who you are during the 99% of your life that isn’t dedicated to beating up bullies with a bat…” She shrugged. “Maybe he’ll realize it was just hero worship and agree you’re both better off as friends.”

Evka looked like she couldn’t believe that Rook was actually making sense—or that she was considering taking her advice. Rook didn’t exactly have a spotless track record when it came to relationships, or friendships…or even enemies.

“I just want him to lose interest without me breaking his heart,” she admitted. “He’s sweet, but way too soft. He tried to fight off a gang of thugs, in the rain, totally alone, without even *thinking* to call for help. I mean…doesn’t he even realize how badly that could have gone?”

Rook tilted her head to the side, studying her friend’s torn expression. It was clear that the whole event had rattled Evka deeply. Not just the violence—the fear, too. They had barely begun to feel safe here, a part of the community, before thieves had arrived and the cute plant boy next door had almost died…it had been a setback, for them both.

“I think he knows exactly how badly it might have gone without you there. But he saw someone doing something bad and did manage to stop it, when most people would have run inside and pretended to see nothing.”

“Pretending to see nothing would have been the smart thing!”

“Neve might disagree with you. It was her office they wanted into, after all.” Even she wasn’t certain what the would-be thieves had been after, though. She had a lot of sensitive information and evidence in there, though it was all in locked safes.

“Not—just—ugh! You know what I mean.” Evka gestured vaguely. “Antoine sells plants for a living. He has no survival instincts. None.”

Rook suddenly sat up straight and clapped her hands together as a brilliant idea struck her.

“I have just thought of the perfect solution to your problem!” Not that she truly believed Evka had a problem, at least not where Antoine was concerned. But regardless. “You should ask him to take self-defense classes with you!”

Evka snorted. “Why? So I can watch Isabela beat him up?”

Rook gave her an exasperated look. Evka seemed to belatedly realize what she said and sank her face into her hands.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Her voice was muffled, but the frustration came through loud and clear. “I don’t want anyone to beat Antoine up. I don’t know what I want.”

“I don’t know either babe, but you need to figure it out quick.” Rook patted her shoulder. “We’re going to be working right next door to the boy for a good long while. Something’s gotta give.”

…

Nothing gave quickly. Winter kept the Lighthouse under a consistent blanket of snow for the next month and business was slow for everyone—except for Lucanis, who served warm drinks and had a nice fire hearth for his customers to sit by.

Antoine did not really mind the lack of foot traffic. When spring arrived, he would be busy with his pop-up stands and the surge of customers eager to fill their gardens would make him yearn for slow, quiet days like these. Besides, he still had moments of soreness and discomfort that required careful movements to ease. Whenever he grew stiff from sitting too long, he would don his coat and boots, hang a sign on the door, and make the trek across the courtyard to the cafe.

It was humming with activity when he stepped in from the cold. Every seat was taken and the line to the counter stretched halfway across the room. For a moment, Antoine debated even bothering with the idea of getting coffee. But it was warm inside and he didn’t really have anything better to do, so he stayed.

Lucanis was skilled at the craft and his lone employee, Bellara (a doctoral student at the local university) had been working for him long enough that they could churn out custom drink orders with shocking speed and accuracy. Antoine stood in line for only ten minutes before he was at the counter, watching Lucanis set a steaming café au lait in front of him.

He hadn’t even ordered, and could only look up in confusion, his money still in his hand.

The man smiled at him. Today he had his black hair tied half-up and a grey vest over a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “On the house today.”

“But, why?” Antoine didn’t like receiving free things for no reason.

Lucanis shrugged. “You looked cold.”

This only confused Antoine even more, but he was not to be deterred. He dropped his cash into the tip jar instead and picked up the warm cup. “Merci.”

Lucanis shook his head, as if disappointed, and said, “You should stop hanging out with Neve.”

“Hi Antoine!” Bellara called brightly as he stepped aside to let the next customer go ahead.

Antoine rested at the pickup counter for a moment to return her smile. She had her hair pulled up into a large bun and was wearing an apron with the Café Pietra logo on the front.

“You have quite the crowd today.”

“It’s the hazelnut torte,” she whispered, leaning closer and glancing around as if afraid to even mention it. “Every time he makes it, people go bananas. If he made it every day, he’d probably make enough profit in a month to pay off all my student loans.”

Antoine chuckled. “If I had known, I’d have requested a slice.” Bellara was not kidding—the torte was impossibly delicious, especially in the bleakness of winter. By this point in the morning, it was most likely all gone.

There was a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I set some aside. Do you want it?”

“I could not possibly steal your torte, Bellara.”

“How about taking it as a bribe, then?” The counter offer came immediately. Her gaze cut away for a moment. She had planned this.

His eyes narrowed. “A bribe?”

Bellara nodded, then gestured with her chin toward the corner of the cafe. Antoine glanced over his shoulder as sneakily as he was able and spotted a couple sitting in front of the hearth, a man and a woman. The woman was striking—tall, pale, with dark hair and sharp features—while the man was short, stocky, with greying ginger hair and a crooked nose. They were obviously together, based on how closely they sat, practically snuggling, and the way they spoke softly with their eyes only on each other. For a moment, Antoine felt the familiar ache in his chest, longing for that sort of easy affection and love. But then he looked back at Bellara.

“Who are they?”

Her eyes widened. “You don’t recognize them?”

Antoine sipped his café au lait while he tried to control his expression. Based on past interactions, he knew Bellara could often be found geeking out over extremely niche interests—everything from Nevarrran neuroscience to badly translated Tevinter serials. Based on the fact that the cafe was crowded and the couple was being left alone, no one else recognized them either.

“He’s a bit familiar, I suppose,” Antoine hedged.

That made Bellara grin. “It’s that writer! Varric Tethras and his wife, Cassandra Pentaghast.”

Antoine had taken another sip and had to swallow quickly lest his shock make him choke on it. “No? Truly?”

This was no obscure video game developer. Everyone knew the name Varric Tethras—his fantasy books were in practically every home in Thedas, and if they weren’t then the television and movie adaptations certainly were. But now Antoine understood why no one else in the cafe had noticed. The author was famous for more than his works—he kept an exceptionally low profile and was very private. Antoine had never even seen a photo of him.

“I attended a fan event for his Hightown series in my hometown bookstore once—a tiny place, and only about two dozen of us were there—but he and his wife showed up! None of us could believe it.” Her brow furrowed. “One girl fainted, I think. Anyway, they were extremely kind and only said they were passing through and got curious when they saw the banner. He signed all our books and talked with us for hours, mostly teasing his upcoming works and dodging direct questions.” Bellara clearly held the memory fondly, based on her smile and slight flush. “Someone posted about it on social media later and by the next day there were tons of indie bookstores announcing Hightown meetups.”

“How cunning,” Antoine replied. “You still haven’t mentioned your favor.” At this point, he was willing to do it without the bribe, but he still wanted to know.

“Oh, right!” Bellara wiped her hands on a towel and pulled a thick, sealed envelope out of her apron pocket. “Would you mind giving this to him? It’s just a fan letter, nothing crazy,” she laughed a little, not convincing in the slightest. “I like to write too, sometimes, and his work has just been such a huge inspiration, I…well, I couldn’t pass up the chance to tell him, but I’m afraid if I go over there…” she fidgeted with the dials on the espresso machine, “…I’ll go a bit bananas.”

Antoine stifled a laugh in response to how gravely serious she had been while saying the word “bananas.” He gladly accepted the envelope. “Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Antoine,” she beamed at him, clasping her hands.

He could feel her eyes on his back as he walked over to the hearth where the couple was sitting. The woman, Cassandra, spotted him immediately—vigilant, perhaps, due to her husband’s notoriety—and the sharpness of her gaze put his instincts on high alert. Antoine tried to appear non-threatening and keep his hands visible. When he stopped, he maintained a polite distance, but felt a bit more nervous than he had expected to feel. Both of them eyed him curiously.

“Bonjour,” he greeted, smiling. “My name is Antoine. I do not wish to bother you, but my friend behind the counter is a fan of yours—ah, as am I!—and wished for me to deliver this letter. I have been bribed.”

The word bribed sparked Varric’s curiosity and he smirked as he reached out to take the letter. “My, what flattery! Someone willing to commit a crime just for a letter?” He popped the seal immediately.

“You have done as much or worse for less,” his wife quipped in a tone of dry humor.

“Sure, but that’s me—my fans are mostly the closeted nerd types.” He glanced up at Antoine. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Antoine felt compelled to say.

“Ignore my husband,” said Casandra, crossing her legs and bracing her arm against the back of the couch behind his shoulders. “Our reclusive life has caused his social skills to rust.”

“Said the pot to the kettle,” Varric grumbled.

Antoine politely ignored this. “If it isn’t rude to ask, what brings you to the Lighthouse?”

“Family,” said Varric, not looking up from the lines of Bellara’s letter.

“We are visiting my niece,” Cassandra clarified. “She works as a tattoo artist here.”

Antoine felt his face slacken with shock. Of all the reasons…What were the odds, truly? “I know them both! It would not happen to be Evka, would it?”

“That is her business partner’s name. My niece goes by Rook now, I believe.”

“Incroyable. My shop is right beside theirs!” he exclaimed, grinning.

“Your shop?”

“Ah, I sell plants,” Antoine said modestly. “Nothing quite as artistic as tattoo work. Your niece is very talented.”

“Yes, she is,” Cassandra was clearly very proud. “It is good that others have begun to take notice.”

There was obviously a deeper meaning to her words, but Antoine couldn’t think of a polite way to inquire about it.

Suddenly, Varric barked a laugh and held Bellara’s letter up a bit higher, squinting at it. “Andraste’s tits, I should have brought my reading glasses.” He peered at Antoine for a moment. “Your friend, she’s the one behind the counter, right?”

Antoine nodded, glancing that way.

“I remember her. Bounces on her toes a lot, talks a mile a minute, yeah.” He rubbed his jaw.

“Remember her? From where?” asked Cassandra.

“That tiny little Dalish bookstore in Arlathan, the one we stopped at on our way to visit Sparkler.”

Cassandra’s brow furrowed. “We stopped at dozens of bookstores on that trip. How could you possibly recall one in particular?”

“It was a memorable experience, alright? And you remember the most random offhand comments I made three years ago at the drop of a hat, so I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, because I place great value on the things you tell me, offhand or otherwise.”

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing,” Varric sighed.

“Then you should not have used that tone.”

“My tone is—no, look, I’m sorry, I’m just distracted trying to read and talk at the same time.” Suddenly he looked at Antoine, who was pretending not to pay attention while he drank his coffee. “And we’re being rude to the kid.”

“I am sorry,” Cassandra turned to Antoine too. “We are often unaware of the rest of the world. You may ask my niece, she teases us for it every time we visit.”

“Shall I go fetch her for you?” Antoine offered. An excuse to leave this situation and visit the tattoo parlor at the same time? Practically an answered prayer.

“Wow, that might be a new record for us,” Varric chuckled, grinning at his wife. “Frightened away a florist in under fifteen minutes.”

Cassandra made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a sigh. “We would be grateful to you, Antoine, if you would please check in with Rook. She had an appointment this morning which is why we have been waiting, but that may be ending now.”

Antoine nodded again, grinning. “It would be my pleasure.”

…

Evka was standing at the front desk inside the tattoo parlor when Antoine walked in.

Her stomach did a terrible, swooping thing. It was hardly unusual—he usually stopped in at least once a week to make sure the plant he had given her wasn’t spontaneously combusting or anything—but she still hadn’t worked up the nerve to confront him about this…whatever it was that he was doing. She didn’t even know what it was. Flirting? He was being far too sincere for that. Intense interest was probably a better term, except that her usual definition of “intense” involved a lot more than a ten minute conversation once a week.

Whatever it was called, his smile communicated it clearly in some language she didn’t know and her brain completely failed to translate it.

“Evka! I was hoping to see you today.” He walked right up to the other side of the counter, his wild hair peppered with snowflakes. In one of his hands was a cup from the cafe and in the other was a takeout container.

“Is Lucanis ready to kick everyone out yet? I saw that the cafe has been swamped all morning.”

“Lucanis works best under pressure, though he might need a long weekend to recover from the crowd. Bellara informed me that the culprit was this.” He lifted the takeout container in his hand and gently turned it.

Her eyebrows shot up. “A small plastic box?”

He didn’t even pause. “Chocolate hazelnut torte.”

Stone’s mercy. Evka was pretty sure she had just started drooling. Her eyes followed the box like a predator as Antoine set it on the counter.

“How on earth did you manage to get some?”

“It was a bribe. Now, I am on a different errand. Is Rook finished with her morning appointment?”

Evka eyed him curiously. “Not yet. She usually walks the clients out to the counter. I think it’s taking a little longer than expected. Why?”

“I met her aunt and uncle in the cafe.” He hid a smile by raising his cup to his lips. “Interesting couple.”

“Ha,” Evka laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. “You decided to come get Rook instead of standing there watching them bicker a moment longer, huh?”

Antoine was clearly too polite to say what he really thought. “I did not know she was the niece of such a celebrated author!”

“She doesn’t talk about her family much,” Evka shrugged. “Neither of us do.”

Something in the way he nodded and glanced away made her want to ask questions. “Nor do I. It is better if she does not let Bellara discover this connection. I do not think she would ever hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Evka nodded, pointedly staring into his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Me? Nothing. I’m not doing anything.”

Antoine raised one eyebrow. “You’re trying to steal my torte. Poorly.”

Evka glanced down at the box, which had mysteriously migrated halfway across the counter. “No, it just did that on its own.”

“Oh really?”

“I think it’s chosen me, sorry,” she shrugged, reaching for the box again. “It’s better if I—”

“Not so fast.” Antoine’s hand shot out and landed on top of hers on the box, halting the theft. “I had to work for this torte. If you want it, you’ll have to convince me.”

Evka blinked up at him, surprised. He was completely serious. Was this some side of him she had never seen before? He almost never told anyone no. And his hands were warmer than she’d thought they would be. Old nicks and callouses gently rubbed against her knuckles as he pressed down.

She swallowed and squinted at him. “What do you want in return?”

[malk-with-tea]

Ocs/Descarn x Hollow Knight for the spooky season :D!!

[blondeaxolotl]

One of the few headcanons I somewhat really attach onto is just my hc that Jamil is Bigender and goes by He/She. But in the way that you have to have such an INSANELY CLOSE BOND with Jamil in order to be allowed to refer to him as "she". You can't be an average joe and call him "she", cause if you do that, not only will your ass get beat, but your ass is getting beat so hard you wake up five months later cause you were put in a coma.

Surprisingly one of the few people that are allowed to call Jamil "she" is Kalim, but only when they're by themselves, since Kalim realized he can't go around referring to Jamil as her in public or that will influence others into doing it as well and Jamil wouldn't like that, so he's keeping it low.

Also yeah because I CAN, yes, Floyd is allowed to call Jamil she as well (<- flojami maniac), but unlike Kalim, Floyd doesn't hide it in public that much unless Jamil asks him to. Thankfully no one is influenced by him cause whenever someone else calls Jamil she , Floyd will full on go "oh you can't call Sea Snake that, you aren't allowed to, now I have to get rid of you. C'mere" and chase them around the school on all fours like some paralysis demon until someone physically stops him

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Not just a pretty face

Part 2 Part 3

Word count: 696

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: At a Grand Prix, influencer Y/n overhears Lando Norris dismissing her as a clueless, fame-chasing “dumb” influencer.

________________________________________________________

The roar of the engines vibrated through your chest as you stood in the paddock, the scent of burnt rubber and fuel filling the air. Your grandpa, dressed in a vintage Schumacher cap and an old Ferrari team shirt, stood beside you, his eyes twinkling with the excitement of being back at a race in person.

“Ach, this takes me back,” he murmured, gripping his paddock pass like it was a golden ticket.

You smiled, squeezing his arm. You had been invited to the Grand Prix as a VIP guest—your status as an international influencer granting you exclusive access—but you knew the real reason you were here. This wasn’t just another event to post about. It was the sport you had loved since childhood, the one your grandpa had introduced you to with hours of race footage and stories about legendary drivers.

No one knew how much you adored Formula 1. Your brand online was all about fashion, luxury, and travel, and you had never bothered to share this side of yourself. Maybe you liked having something that was just yours.

That, of course, was why Lando Norris’s words stung so much.

You had been passing by the McLaren hospitality when you heard him talking with his team. You weren’t eavesdropping—he wasn’t exactly being subtle.

“Yeah, she’s hot, but you know how these influencers are,” Lando scoffed. “She probably doesn’t even know what DRS is. Here for clout, like all of them.”

Your steps faltered.

“Dumb as rocks, too,” he added.

You clenched your jaw. Excuse me?

Taking a deep breath, you turned on your heel and stepped into the McLaren area, ignoring the surprised glances of the team members. Lando, seated casually on a couch, looked up just as you stopped in front of him.

“Wow, so rude and wrong,” you said, crossing your arms. “First of all, I went to university, so I’m not dumb—as you so eloquently put it.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard.

“And second,” you continued, tilting your head, “I’ve probably been watching Formula 1 longer than you’ve been racing in it. I know what DRS is, I know about tire degradation, I know why McLaren’s been struggling with drag lately, and I even know that your qualifying performances tend to be better than your race pace because of how the car handles over long stints. So maybe next time you assume a woman is just a brainless influencer, you should actually check your facts first.”

Silence.

The McLaren team members suddenly found their phones and coffee cups very interesting. Lando stared at you, mouth slightly open, the first flickers of embarrassment flashing across his face.

You gave him one last unimpressed look before turning on your heel and walking away.

Your grandpa, who had been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, chuckled. “Well, that was fun.”

Lando’s Redemption Arc

Lando couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The second you walked away, he knew he had screwed up. He had made assumptions—stupid ones, at that. And the way you had put him in his place so effortlessly? It was… annoyingly attractive.

That night, he found himself scrolling through your Instagram, going beyond the polished luxury photos and clicking on every story, every caption. And that’s when he noticed it—the subtle clues that you were more than what met the eye.

A throwback post with a Schumacher documentary in the background. A tiny Ferrari charm on your bracelet in an old photo. A blurry shot of an F1 race from the grandstands years ago, hidden among travel content.

You had been a fan all along.

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. He felt like an idiot.

He wanted to see you again. Not just to apologize, but because now he was intrigued. You were gorgeous, yes, but you were also smart. Passionate. And clearly not someone who tolerated nonsense.

So when he spotted you in the paddock the next day, laughing with your grandpa near the Mercedes garage, he hesitated only for a moment before heading your way.

Time to fix his mistake.

And maybe—just maybe—make you see him in a different light, too.

[iannmin]

KINKS THAT THEY PROBABLY HAVE ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚. ,, 최승철 | 김민규 | 전원우

🏷️ ⋆｡˚. mdni! 18+, this is purely fictional and does not depict the people in real life, dollification, overstim, cockwarming

🗒️ ⋆｡˚. the nastiest holy trinity ;), btw it’s not really well proof-read like the other fics so if i make any grammar mistakes please ignore <3

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

DOLLIFICATION + BREEDING ⋆｡˚. SEUNGCHEOL

Omg just don’t get me started with this one,, remember how cheol likes to dress up kkuma, putting up all the cute princessy accessories on her? Oh boy,, he’s most probably wanna do the same to his s/o — buying them the most innocent looking frilly dresses coupled with those cute ribbon shaped pins just to absolutely ruin the fuck out of them. Like just imagine him pounding up your tight hole in that dress, watching it get absolutely soaked by loads and loads of his cum seeping out of your ruined cunt after. “Fuck princess, you like that huh? Acting all pretty and innocent when all you’re made for is just to take my load” and you’ll be too fucked out to even verbally answer as he grabs both sides of your waist and practically drill into your pussy with his huge cock.

OVERSTIMULATION + LOTS OF CUM ⋆｡˚. MINGYU

Nahhh,, his muscular biceps and long hours spent at the gym is all for show, really. He’s just a big boy who wants his cock ruined and milked dry till the point he’s seeing absolute stars. Can you imagine running the pocket pussy up and down his veiny cock for hours and hours until his entire stomach and thighs are absolutely glistening with his cum? But he doesn’t want it to stop. Ever. “Nnnggh…ahhh….f-fuck! No! N-not there…gonna cum again!” His pathetic pleas and whines always fall onto death ears because really,, you know he doesn’t want it to end. He’ll keep going at it until the ring of white cum around the base of his cock is absolutely thick to the point where the pocket pussy’s all coated. He’s also the type to just absolutely love messy sex, marking his cum everywhere, not caring about the consequences because he’ll clean it up anyways

COCKWARMING ⋆｡˚. WONWOO

As for wonwoo, boy’s a homebody, a game boy. He’s always glued to his PC 24/7 whenever he’s home. But one thing for sure is he certainly loves the idea of his s/o sitting on his lap on his gaming chair, his grey sweatpants hastily pulled down to his thighs because he was simply too impatient to pull them off completely, with his cock fully buried in his s/o. And when i mean fully buried, i mean fully buried as in the base of his cock touches his s/o’s ass. But of course, after a short while, he might “accidentally” start shifting in his chair, making an excuse of “adjusting” his seat just so that he can lift his s/o’s hip up and slam their cunt right back onto his dick. And when his s/o falls asleep on his lap he pauses his game and gives them a sharp thrust up their hole, letting them know that they should be paying attention to him

[heavens-whore]

RIDE

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel run away together for a fresh start, away from the town you both hate. Along the way, you start to have doubts about your decision, but Joel has a way of persuading you that it’s right for you.

A/N: this is my first fic ! It was inspired by a post my friend sent me that was just a pic of motel steps, captioned "need a cigarette here". And the scene unfolded idk. Also I don't really know how to make my posts look cute yet so please excuse this visual abomination for now. Enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+, unspecified age gap, oral (f receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, cigarette smoking, not wearing a seatbelt (please wear a seatbelt fr), running away, getting fired, getting hated on

The sun shone through the dirty window of the truck and started to dip below the horizon, but the heat stayed hanging in the humid air. Your bare feet were resting up on the dashboard and your eyes watched the rural surroundings of the open road race past as you drove further and further away from your old life. The faint sound of 80s rock from the radio and the hum of the truck’s engine did little to silence the thoughts that tormented you- the thought that running away was a big mistake you would come to deeply regret.

You hated your hometown. The weather, the people, the way they talked, the way they dressed, the things they believed in. You even hated the buildings. So why was it all so hard to let go of? You had always wanted to leave, to run away and leave it all behind, start a new life out West and never look back. Joel was the only person who was willing to give it all to you. He never talked about it, but you could see it in his eyes every time you mentioned the idea of leaving. You knew he wanted this too- probably did from a young age. Some teenage pipedream of his that imploded when his daughter was conceived. So he stayed, started his family business, bought a house and raised her. But now she was all grown up and there was nothing to hold him back anymore. All he was waiting for was for you to say the word. 

And you did, after one particularly rough day. You had gone to work in the morning and come home in tears around midday after being fired with no warning. It didn’t matter, you hated the job anyway; but your parents were enraged, furious that you could let this happen. They called you a burden, said you had no ambition and no future ahead of you. In the early afternoon you had shown up on Joel’s doorstep with a bag packed and tears in your eyes, begging him to take you away from it all. And he did. 

He had one hand resting on your thigh, and the other on the steering wheel. His eyes strayed from the road to look over at you, seeing you gaze thoughtfully out the half-open window in your denim shorts and little tank top. He squeezed your thigh to get your attention.

‘You take your seatbelt off again?’ You looked up at him, your eyes wide and clearly swimming with thoughts. But he didn’t push it. You nodded. ‘Gotta put it back on for me, darlin’. We can’t have nothin’ happening, can we? Ambulance would take forever to get to us out here.’ You didn’t say anything, just took your legs down from the dashboard and pulled your seatbelt back on, the polyester squeaking as it unravelled. Joel’s eyes flicked back to the road momentarily but then returned to you. You were being unusually quiet. ‘You doin’ okay?’

You nodded again, but this time feigning contentment.

‘Yeah. Just hot in here.’

Joel’s dark eyes lingered on yours for a moment before flicking back to the road, definitely unconvinced.

‘Well we’re almost to the next stop anyway. Think this motel’s got a pool, too.’

The heat was definitely part of the problem, because when you finally got to the motel, the cool water of the pool lifted your spirits. You put on that new bikini you had bought at an earlier stop along the way and floated on your back, let the water cool your skin while you watched the sunset paint the sky with bright streaks of pink and orange. Joel watched you swim from the edge of the pool for a while before joining you. He splashed you with the water and pulled you beneath the surface, wrapped your legs around his hips and kissed you with such tender desire it made you want to cry.

Later in the evening, you lay awake beside Joel. His arm was wrapped loosely around your waist and he was fast asleep, but all you could do was stare at the chipping paint on the ceiling. Those regrets had started to creep back into your head, and it felt as though there was a war going on in your mind. You thought of your friends, your family, what the people back home would say about the young girl who randomly up and left one day to run away to California with the old man from down the street. You quietly untangled yourself from his grasp and stepped outside for some air. It was dark but the stars were bright, and the crickets chirped as you sat on the steps of the motel and lit a cigarette. You didn’t know what time it was or where exactly you were. All you knew was that it was late and you were far from home. You sucked in the smoke and watched the neon glow of the motel sign dance on the ripples in the pool. It was quiet, peaceful, but the war in your head raged on. It was impossible, trying to tell if this was just some optimistic dream you had cooked up- that you could run away and find your fresh start on the coast and live happily ever after. What if it all blew up in your face and you were forced to come back home to your parents’ fury, that you could be so reckless and believe in some big lie this dirty old man was feeding you?

The creak from the door opening snatched your attention away from your thoughts, and you turned to see Joel’s concerned eyes watching you. He sat on the step behind you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the warmth of his chest.

‘What’s on your mind, darlin’? Been quiet all day, I know something’s up.’

You took another hit of the cigarette and flicked the ashes onto the steps below you.

‘I dunno. It’s… I dunno.’

He sighed as he watched your troubled expression.

‘We can go back if you want, y’know. Don’t want you to feel like I’m callin’ all the shots here.’

You shook your head.

‘I don’t wanna go back. You know how bad I want this. I just wish I could forget all about home.’

‘You will forget it, sweetheart. Once you see the ocean, you’ll forget all about that town. We’ll start over, yeah?’

You brought the filter back to your lips and inhaled again, your mind still not eased much.

‘What if we get there and we hate it?’

Joel rested his chin on the crown of your head as he held you from behind.

‘Then we’ll go back. Or we’ll go somewhere else. But what if we get there and we love it?’

He had a way of making everything sound so simple and it never failed to blow your mind. 

He plucked the cigarette from between your fingers and put it out, then pulled you to your feet and rested his hands on your waist. ‘S’just a fresh start, darlin’. Nobody’ll know us, nobody’ll look twice when they see us together, they won’t care. We’ll be okay, I promise. And if we ain’t, we’ll think of somethin’ else. Can always go back if we change our minds.”

It was true, but something in the back of your mind told you that you wouldn’t. Joel’s hand stroked your cheek gently, and his dark eyes sparkled under the neon sign as they gazed into yours, full of nothing but intimate affection.

The two of you went back to bed but didn’t sleep. The moonlight seeped in through the flimsy net curtains and illuminated your naked skin as you undressed each other. Joel laid you down on the edge of the bed and stood between your legs, his hands squeezed your breasts gently while his eyes wandered your body, a sigh escaping his lips. He leaned down to press feather light kisses to your neck and collarbones while his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs. He gripped your thighs tenderly as he pulled them apart, and knelt in between them.

He licked a stripe up your center while moving your thighs to rest on his shoulders. He wrapped his thick arms around them while he lapped at your seam, the taste of your arousal dampening his taste buds. His tongue swirled around your clit, causing your toes to curl and your back to arch while he watched from his position, his boxers tightening with every second that passed until he couldn’t wait any longer. He pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh and stood up, shoved his underwear down and lined himself up for entrance.

‘You want this, baby?’ He whispered, ‘You want me?’

You nodded eagerly, if there was one thing in this world you knew you wanted for certain, it was him. He slid into you easily, your juices and his saliva soaking him. Small whimpers and whines fell from your lips, as well as his name, while your nails dug deep crescents into his shoulders. He held still once he bottomed out to let you adjust his length. It didn’t matter how many times he had buried himself deep into your walls, he always seemed to stretch them out more each time, the dull ache blending with ecstasy. His eyes held your gaze and he watched your expression as it twisted in pain and pleasure.

‘You okay darlin’? You with me?’

You whispered a soft but adamant ‘Yes,’ and he pulled out before pushing back into you again with the same agonizingly slow pace, his jaw tense as he groaned in pleasure, the head forcing its way in even deeper.

‘Always so wet for me.. Such a good girl.’

Your little moans filled the night air as he started to gradually pick up the pace, speeding up slightly with each deep thrust. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in even deeper; and your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him into a warm and passionate kiss. Joel’s tongue wetted your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth, and you let it. The sound of his hips slapping against your thighs melted into your sweet whimpers of ecstasy as the heat from his body dampened your skin with sweat.

‘I love you, baby,’ He mumbled against your lips, his thrusts never stopping, ‘love you so much.’

You pinched your eyes shut as the stimulation started to overwhelm you. Each of his movements sent shockwaves through your body, and you could feel your legs start to tremble. Joel laced his fingers with yours and squeezed your hands gently, his voice soft and low. ‘Look at me, baby girl.’ Your eyelids fluttered open to see his eyes were burning into yours and sparkling with passion. ‘There’s those pretty eyes.’ He slowed down, reading your expression, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. His face hovered above yours as he slowly pushed himself in and out, trying to draw this out as long as he could, before building back up to the same speed as before.

The tension in your stomach was growing, the coil tightening after Joel’s thrusts established a steady pace. He pulled back from you to watch your features contorting with pleasure, your back arching up into him, the moisture on your skin glowing in the dim moonlight. His grip on your hands tightened, and his brows furrowed like they always do when he’s close to the edge. You whimpered to let him know that you were too- no words needed. 

‘Where do you want it, baby?’ His voice was low and gravelly, dripping with hunger.

‘Inside. Please.’ You whispered desperately and squeezed his hand.

‘You sure?’ His jaw was tightening and his eyes were dark, and you knew you had to decide fast. But your mind was already made up. You nodded certainly, right on the brink of shattering.

You both fell apart at the same time. His hips stuttered as you felt his warmth blossoming deep within your core, and your desperate whimpers and groans bounced off the walls of the small dim room. Joel pushed himself somehow even deeper into you as your walls clenched tightly around him, choking his length. He leaned down to your face again, your lips meeting in a messy, loving kiss while he tried unsuccessfully to still his hips, continually pulsing within you and filling you up with his climax. 

He didn’t pull out- you asked him not to. He just rested you on his lap and rested his back against the cheap headboard of the bed while you were still intimately connected. The sun was starting to rise and orange rays shone through the parting in the curtain as Joel held you, his fingers running through your hair while drips of his release seeped out onto your inner thighs. It was quiet, the sound of the crickets had subsided and the only noise you could hear was the steady beat of Joel’s heart where your head rested on his chest. It was time to hit the road again soon, but this time your mind was clear, and you knew it was what you wanted.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess

This prompt is a variation of good!GIW AU (read here), but that's an excuse because I just wanted badass Jasmine Fenton and her good boy Jason Todd.

"Jason?"

The voice catches him off-guard. Not because he doesn't know it, no, quite on the opposite - he knows that voice very well, he's just heard it this morning when his beautiful girlfriend kissed him on the cheek and left for work.

It's just that he didn't expect to hear it at a closed auction full of magic artifacts, two states away from Gotham, and in a room full of rich-ass people from all around the world.

He turns around.

Jazz is looking at him with an expression of pleasant surprise, black off-shoulder silk dress with teal accents draping her figure all the way down to the floor - it's kind of reminiscent of Greek togas, with high waist and lots of folds on the skirt. It also makes his girlfriend look even taller than she is, which, Jason is fairly certain, was intentional.

She is also wearing a necklace on her neck, and just by one look at it, Jason knows that it costs at least five times more than the apartment they live in.

"Jazz?" He breathes out, astonished, but then catches himself and puts on a smile, "You look stunning." This is not the time to argue or ask questions; he is on a mission. And it's a time sensitive one, so no matter how curious he is, it can wait till later. They do live together, after all.

"Thank you," the girl smiles, and then briefly turns her head to a tall man in a very expensive dark blue suit standing beside her, "If you excuse me," she nods with an apologetic smile in the corner of her lips, and the man smiles back and takes a step away. Meanwhile, Jazz approaches Jason and casually places a hand on his elbow.

"Mind telling me what are you doing here?" She questions, and, wait, that was supposed to be his line! Jason blinks and shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor.

He can't exactly say, 'Constantine asked Batman for a favor because he knows the man is rich as fuck, so now Jason has to either buy or steal an ancient dagger for some bullshit magic ritual because he was the only one free tonight and John really needs that dagger and that ritual and Bruce owes him a favor, unfortunately'. Jazz doesn't know he is a vigilante/crime lord in redemption. She might suspect he is - that girl is perceptive on par with mind readers - but Jason never straightforwardly told her, and she never brought it up herself.

So, instead, he goes, "Sightseeing."

Jazz raises one eyebrow and pointedly looks around the dimly lit room full of magic users, rich collectors, socialites, and other shady individuals. Jason keeps smiling. Eventually, the redhead sighs and looks away, taking a step forward and guiding him through the auction at a leisurely pace.

"Looking for anything in particular?" She tries again, and Jason debates if he should answer her. On one hand, his head is buzzing with thousands of questions, starting with 'how did you even make it here when your shift at Arkham ended two hours ago' and finishing with 'to which group of shady individuals do you belong'. On the other hand, she clearly does belong here if her confident posture and outfit are taken into account.

And she is his girlfriend. Has been one for two years now. Maybe it's time to share some secrets.

"An obsidian knife with an owl on the handle," he finally says, and Jazz hums.

"A Tecpatl?" She clarifies, and Jason doesn't even feel that surprised by her sudden knowledge of Aztec culture. He nods. Jazz gives him a thoughtful glance, "And how important is it for you to have it?"

"To the point where I'm prepared to steal it if I have to," he laughs, but judging by the look on Jazz's face, she gets that he is only half-joking. She narrows her eyes at him:

"Is it for you, or for your, um, friends on the orbit?" She asks, briefly glancing up to the ceiling, and Jason feels very confused for a second there.

But then it hits him: she is talking about the Watchtower. She is implying the League.

Jason doesn't hold back a quiet curse, "Damn it, I should have hidden the guns better, shouldn't I?"

Jazz laughs softly, but it's a warm, affectionate laugh, "Well, yes, but you also shouldn't leave bloody bandages in the bathroom. And your helmet on the kitchen counter," she tells him, amusement lacing her voice, and Jason rubs his face with his free hand.

"Fuck," he mutters. And then, "Sorry."

Jazz waves her hand it the air, brushing his apology off, "Don't worry. I'm not in a place to blame you for having secrets, am I?" She muses, and, okay, fair. But before Jason can try to make her elaborate on the topic, she returns to her previous question, "So is it for a friend?"

The knife, right. Jason makes an annoyed face, scrunching his nose.

"Yeah. Bruce owes someone a favor, but he couldn't make it. Other stuff came up," he huffs. 'Other stuff' in question includes some off-world mission, so he really couldn't make it, but that doesn't make Jason any less mad about it.

"Let me guess, that 'someone' smells of cigarettes and liquor, has a British accent, and wears a trench coat," Jazz deadpans, and Jason stares at her with wide eyes.

"How- Are you sure you're not secretly a mind reader?" He asks. He knows for sure that Jazz doesn't have a meta-gene, but maybe she is a magic user? That would explain why and how she is even at the auction. Yet, the redhead laughs.

"No, sorry. Just met him a few times," she winces like she can smell the phantom smell of tobacco even when the mage is not here, "Can't say I like him, but asking someone to fetch him a Tecpatl seems like his style."

That only makes Jason even more inclined to believe his girlfriend is actually a magic user. But he doesn't get to ask because Jazz suddenly looks him in the face.

"Consider yourself in luck, by the way," she grins, "You won't have to steal it."

[part 2 ->]

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Shen Yuan transmigrates into the former sect leader, Yue Qingyuan's shizun, right before Yue Qi shows up at the selection trials.

Shen Yuan is not sure why he's in one of his all-time hate-reads, let alone why he's gone so far back before the story actually begins (his system appears to be malfunctioning? something about an error and emergency backup...?), but he's making the most of it. This despite the fact that being a sect leader is a much more prestigious and political role than he likes.

But Shen Yuan is, at heart, actually a pretty good teacher, and he's spent enough time witnessing administrative work secondhand that he can competently tackle most of his duties. Whatever he can't handle, luckily there are other masters on Qiong Ding who always seem eager to curry favor by volunteering at the least hint that they should. Apparently his predecessor was known for being kind of cold-blooded and ruthless. (Shen Yuan gets checked for possession and it's concluded behind his back that he most have lost some of his memories, again, but also everyone kinda prefers this version anyway, again.)

But, so, he picks Yue Qi at the trials without even realizing at first who he's selecting, but just because that kid seems really determined to get in and clearly has been through it. Reminds him of Luo Binghe. Even when he puts it all together, all he feels mostly is kind of bad about it? He never thought Yue Qingyuan was sufficiently villainous to merit his end, even though he didn't blame Binghe for it either. He was always a mystery, an apparently kind person who nevertheless had some inexplicable fondness for the scum villain, turned a blind eye towards his abuses, and got dragged down with him. Shen Yuan feels even worse when he actually gets to know his solemn, smiling, secretive little disciple.

Yue Qi is very determined to advance, and as quickly as possible. Shen Yuan admonishes him. Obviously this kid has a protagonist-like aura and a similar drive to get places quickly, but you can't speedrun your disciple era, Mr. Future Sect Leader! There's no montage mode! Most of his attempts at intervening meet a brick wall that is Yue Qi's impenetrable smile and polite deference if he even hints at displeasure (this kid's gonna make a great politician one day), but Shen Yuan changes tactics and starts manufacturing excuses for breaks, taking Yue Qi on him with trips off the mountain and finding reasons to stop at local festivals and hot springs and etc. He can tell something's off with the quality of frustration that his disciple sometimes expresses, with how there's fear to it, but he's at a loss for the cause and it's difficult to get Yue Qi to talk. Despite appearances, he's actually very distrustful of adults.

When Yue Qi asks to claim his sword early, Shen Yuan says no. He remember how reputedly powerful Xuan Su was, and his disciple definitely needs a stronger base if he's going to pull a sword of that caliber. But he suspects this won't go over well, and when he catches Yue Qi sneaking off to Wan Jian Peak on his own, his disciple finally breaks down and admits that he needs to get strong in order to save his most important person.

Shen Yuan is moved. The way Yue Qi speaks, he's certain this person is a young maiden whom his student has fallen in love with. Truly, the sect leader was so very similar to Luo Binghe at heart! He must have failed in the original story, and that contributed to his difficulties and sorrows later on. Of course Shen Yuan will help him rescue his sweetheart!

Even if his sweetheart is... surprisingly butch? And is a slave owned by the Qiu family, and, wait a second, that name is kind of familiar... oh.

Oh dear.

Shen Yuan is internally screaming even as he helps buy Xiao Jiu out of bondage, even as he gives Yue Qi money to get his newly rescued friend all cleaned up and suitably dressed for the trip back to Cang Qiong, even as he buys the boys tanghulu for a treat, even as the System cheerfully informs him that his new quest is to get Xiao Jiu accepted onto Qing Jing Peak, even as Yue Qi tears up for the first time when he thanks him for helping.

He can only get to sleep that night by consoling himself with the knowledge that his generation is going to retire well before Luo Binghe and The Plot actually show up.

The System: (〜￣▽￣)〜

5 Years Later:

Huan Hua Palace Master: Sect Leader, we need your help! A terrible Heavenly Demon has come to threaten the whole of human society!

Shen Yuan: That's not possible. He isn't even born yet.

HHP Master: What?

Shen Yuan: What?

[vincenteuniverse]

Ken's progression OUT of color

This is kinda a cornplate thought that I had nowhere else to put but I love how in the Barbie movie(SPOILERS), Ryan Gosling's Ken's outfits symbolically showcase his "descent" into full patriarchy mode over time.

At the beginning of the film Ken's beach outfit (his default) has an equal balance of pink and blue. Pink is obviously Barbie's color, and shows Ken as fitting well into the femininity and style of Barbieland, while blue could be argued to be Ken's color (a scene later when he's especially confident features him wearing all denim blue, and the stereotypical gender of these colors, especially when found in kid's toys, supports these basic binaries as associated with these colors).

When Ken decides to leave Barbieland with Barbie to delve into the outside world, his color scheme goes full pink, desperate enough to be with Barbie that his attire reflects how dependent his identity is on hers at this stage.

However, it isn't long before Ken's exploration of the real world leads him to exciting new discoveries about the patriarchy and what it can do for him. Here he is introduced to a newfound sense of self independent from barbie, and while he still carries a pink scarf around his neck, the rest of his outfit has devolved into black and white while hers has remained colorful. As he pursues this new-to-him idea further, his worldview is becoming less unique, pretty, and vibrant(in addition to becoming much more masculine).

It is only his scarf that ties him to Barbie now, and upon making the choice not to follow her to Mattel, he becomes fully independent, losing the scarf and any trace of pink in his attire the next time we see him in his mojo dojo casa house coat and beach off outfit underneath.

In his most masculine moment during "Just Ken", he and the other Kens all wear a uniform of the most traditionally male ben shapiro outfit ever: A T-Shirt, belt, and dress pants. All black(and no white either to contrast like the previous 2 outfits). It's fitting that the Kens, in their destructive warpath, imagine themselves as perfectly cleaned up yet violently masculine dancers in their heads, their outfits devoid of all of the flair and character of Barbieland.

(excuse the shitty picture) After Ken has his little self-growth moment, his new sweatshirt reflects the changed and much more balanced man he has become, much more accepting of himself and a life where he can co-exist with Barbie without being with her. This outfit is again an almost perfect balance of pink and blue, both sides of Ken now a bit more at peace, his colors not pushed out by the LITERALLY black hole of toxic masculinity.

The color scheme also matches the roller blading outfit, so perhaps it shows a somewhat intermediary stage of Ken's development wherein he is still attached to and at peace with Barbieland, but where he is starting to become more independent as well. anyway these are all fun and i genuinely have no fucking idea why Mattel didn't cash in on literally making dolls of all the characters and their outfits these would be so fun to own

[starboye]

starring: simon "ghost" riley x male reader

request: ghost with a femboy reader <33 can be both nsfw or sfw which ever one you r comfortable with!!! :33

warnings: some smut, mentions of male pregnancy + breeding, sexual mentions, femboy!reader, mentions of drinking

SFW-

simon was shocked to say the least when he first layed eyes on you at a farmers market, seeing you dressed in a cute pink skirt as a full face of makeup as you shopped for fruits and veggies.

approaching you slowly to really get a good look at you and confirm if he was seeing things or not (this is the first ever time he's seen a guy dressed like you) and with further investigating following you around the store he realized you were in fact a guy.

he waited patiently till you dropped something to swoop in and helping you pick up your dropped items, using the situation as an opportunity to spike up a conversation on the kinds of apples you were getting and somehow leading to you giving him your number.

he was nervous to actually call you but with some help from the team after showing the a picture of you (that of which you still don't know how he snapped the picture) they were urging him to not let the "fine gentleman go to waste" in the words of captain price and ghost nervously called you.

he was definitely surprised when you answered his call, he had asked you on a date and you somewhat eagerly accepted the mans request, simon silently cheering when he hung up the phone.

and oh. my. god. when he saw you enter the restaurant in the most beautiful suit and all dazzled with your little accessories with the most fine make up he's ever seen he was adjusting his pants the whole night and always excusing himself to the bathroom.

once the date was over he was itching to see you again, not being able to get you off his mind during mission debriefs or even the mission itself, only thinking of your handsome face the whole time.

once you guys finally scheduled your second date he was happy as a clam at high water, smiling the whole way to the park where you planned to meet just for him to get there to see you in a pretty slutty skirt and a crop top, it's like you wanted the man to keel over and die right there.

but he managed to hold himself together the whole date (although he can't deny that he didn't sneak a few peaks at your ass when you'd bend over to smell the flowers and feed the ducks at the lake and also during that date you both finally agreed to now be dating one another.

NSFW-

when he finally got you in his bed it was one night when you were a little drunk after a night out with the team and you were all but throwing yourself at the man, basically begging the man to fuck you with how you caressed his thigh under the table and hiked up your skirt when you 'drop' something on accident.

but simon wasn't complaining when he had been imagining fucking you forever now but the only thing that held his dick at night when he was hard was his own fist and the though of your mouth.

he had made you a moaning, babbling, and incoherent mess by the end of the night after fucking load after load out of you and plowing load after load into your tight hole.

with how good you looked and the way you dressed he had been imagining putting you in all sorts of positions to take his cock and when he finally got the chance he didn't disappoint, putting you in sorts of positions like mating press, missionary, and full nelson, thoroughly impressed by how well you took him in every position.

during it all simon had to keep reminding himself that you can't get pregnant and walk around base all swell with his kids in your tummy but he'd be damned if he didn't try to at least give you a stomach full of his cum.

next day you woke up sore, aching, and barely remembering where you were but with the sight of simon tightly holding you in his arms with that cute but smug smile on his face you nuzzled back into him, maybe even rolling your leaking ass on his crotch just to start a little something.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

[wakatoshiiss]

how the haikyu boys would react if you showed up to a game - after saying you wouldnt! °○~

contains : hinata, kageyama, daichi, tsukkishima, kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwazumi, ushijima, tendou

warnings/tags : not all boys included ! suggestive themes in a few of them, but nothing descriptive!

note : just some of my fav cuties, if you want more pls throw it in the requests! i wrote half of this on mobile and half on my laptop, pls excuse any mistakes. i also had either none or alot of motivation for these, so eat up what you can out of this!

masterlist // requests are open

SHOYO HINATA :

he honestly forgot about the banter between you two, begging for you to come but then being shot down because of your studies. so when he stepped onto the court and began playing, he didn't pay any attention to it.

but in private, you felt too bad, so you attended. you cheered him on from the group of karasuno fans, a little louder than the rest. so when he turned his head and saw you, his face lit up, a big smile on his face before giving a small wave and turning back around.

by the end of the match, he met you outside, jumping at his full potential with hands on your shoulders, " you came!? but what about your homework? wait - did you see me during the second set!? " he blabbering on, before you just ruffled his hair and giggled.

" you should come to all my matches, it makes me play better " he mumbled as he pulled you into a tight hug while tanaka and noya gushed over young love.

" oi! hinata, let's go! " kageyama called, as they were getting ready for a team photo infront of the complex.

he dragged you along, jumping onto your shoulders just to be taller than kageyama in a photo.

---

TOBIO KAGEYAMA :

there was no point in asking you to come tonight, it was normal. but he did want you to see some new stuff he spent so much time working on. but of course, you turned him down due to working late at the onigiri shop downtown.

so as he put his uniform on, sliding his knee pads up and tying his shoes, he went about the match like normal. he actually never noticed tou watching in the stands, eyes flowing back and forth through his stealthy sets. that freak quick attack that he set up was always impressive. it made you wonder why you never saw matches before.

you caught him on his way out, bag slung over his shoulders and jacket zipped up. the bus was parked and waiting already, so you barely got to his hand. your fingers wrapped around his, and he almost smacked you before realizing it was you.

" yn? " he asked, tilting his head in confusion, " but - I thought you were working late tonight? " he muttered, fingers squeezing a little tighter when you smiled.

" well, thanks for coming. " was all he could muster up between the harsh heat in his cheeks. he burried his chin into the collar of his jacket, watching you reach up and plant a kiss onto his cheek before running back into the building.

yeah everyone sitting on the bus just saw kageyama fold for his girlfriend again.

---

DAICHI SAWAMURA :

he completely understood how important your studies were, and he seriously didn't mind you not coming to games. so when he kissed your head and jumped in the car, he expected to see you later after the match.

but he had no clue you spent the rest of the time getting all ready, dressing up and jumping into your car to race, and making the first set. you flooded the stands as it began, leaning against the barrier next to their manager, Yaichi.

daichi was too busy with slamming recieves back and forth. when he finally got steady with returning the great king, oikawa's, serves, the crowd cheered. so naturally, you did, too.

" nice recieve daich' ! " you called out, hands cupped by your mouth with a big smile.

his head whipped behind him to see you all bubbly and pratically shaking with excitement as you watched him play. all he could do was smile and wave before giving sugawara a nervous look.

by the end of the match, you were downstairs, watching the teams flood out. you patiently waited for your boyfriend, hands clasped in front of you as the rest of the teams said their hellos. when daichi laid his eyes on you, he belined, lifting you and spinning you.

" you said you weren't coming! don't do that! it made me nervous - " he laughed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his head.

" but - thanks for watching, means a lot to me, baby " was all he he said as he kissed your head and pulled you into a tight hug.

---

TSUKKISHIMA KEI :

he didn't care, he actually didn't want you coming. he didn't see the point, they'd probably lose. and of course being a grade freak he was not about to sit and do your homework with you till 2am, so yea get it done now.

but when you appeared with an extra water bottle right before he went on the court, he just furrowed his eyebrows. he looked around before smirking a bit.

" thanks " that's all he said before grabbing the bottle and taking a drink, " if you didn't finished your homework, you have no idea what I'd do " he groaned, piercing his lips together into a flat line.

" tsukki - it's fine! you know I love to watch you play! " you gushed, teetering on your heels and looking up at him with a plead, that he knew too well.

" I am not giving you a kiss right now " he mumbled, going to walk away

" but it's good luck! " you whined, chasing him almost to the court.

" will you shut up? everyone can hear you " he whispered, leaning down and pressing a peck to your lips before grumbling off to warm ups.

he made sure to always look for you in the crowd before the next play, your bright eyes and smile always widening when you two made eye contact. yeah, he secretly loved seeing you support him.

---

KUROO TETSURO :

" cmon, baby, it's just one match, can't you come? " he pleaded, waiting by the door.

you told him you wouldn't be able to make it to this match, you were too busy and had stuff to do at home. so you shook your head and sighed.

" sorry, testu, not tonight " and he frowned, but hugged you goodbye and as always, kissed both cheeks for good luck.

when you watched him leave, guilt ate away at your gut. so you checked the time, got as much stuff done, and then raced to the complex. his match had just started, and you were in his red jacket. so you blended in with the crowd of fans.

when they lined up at the end to thank the fans, you shot forward to the balcony and yelled out for him, " good job, tetsu! " giggling and waving as he looked up at you.

kenma also looked up, rolling his eyes when kuroo put his hands on his hips and cackled like a hyena, " told you she'd come kenma! " he patted the smaller boy on the back.

when you two met up, he crushed you, squeezing all the air from your body. " so you were busy, huh? " he teased, shoving you as he walked you out to your car.

he leaned against the top of your car with his arm, pressing down and capturing you in one more kiss. where he tried to make in to a full makeout session and fit into your drivers side.

" tetsuro! not now! " you yelped, shoving him out and scoffing.

" so later? I did win, yknow " he dragged out, and you rolled your eyes and shut the door.

---

KENMA KOZUME :

you barely made it to the third set, noticing kenma already being worn out and sweating buckets. you bit your lip anxiously, knowing kenma definitely didn't want you here. it made his anxiety skyrocket.

you stood hidden in the sea of fans, rushing out by the time it ended so he didn't see you. you watched him walk into the locker room, kuroo following close behind him with a proud smile.

you tried to creep your way silently, but kuroo seemed to notice you before kenma.

" ey! kenma look! " he redirected kenma from the door, to face you. you were wide eyed and smiling innocently.

" oh " he blinked, walking up to you, " when did you get here? " he asked, looking down at you with a blank expression as always.

" I just saw the last set - sorry I know you hate it when I come but - " you began, but kenma only stopped you by pulling you into a very awkward and sweaty hug.

you laughed and hugged back, of course. kuroo was already beckoning lev to come see this. once lev bursted out laughing, kenma let go, " sorry - they're just gonna be annoying " he muttered, shooting them a look.

" I know, kozu, you did great tonight " you nodded, trying to reassure him by rubbing soft circles into his palm.

" can you come to all my games from now on? "

---

KOUTARO BOKUTO :

every time was the same, bokuto trying to drag you out of your house to come to at least one match. you hated crowded areas, a sea of people watching a game of more sweaty people toss a ball around? yeah absolutely not.

but you knew it was important to him, so you always said 'next time', but there was never a next time. now bokuto was walking with you to the gym of fukarodani so the team can pack and leave.

" im sorry, kotarou, maybe next time? " you offered, holding his hands right before he walked in.

" you say that every timee! " he whined, but quickly gave up when he saw your frown.

" good luck out there, youre gonna do amazing " you kissed his hands before skipping away to the front of the building and driving home.. well, that was the plan

and somehow you found yourself driving 2 hours away to the complex, wearing an old jersey of bokuto's. you stepped out and scanned in with a wristband. the place was packed, fukarodani fans already setting up. so you sat and waited.

the match finally started, and akaashi was already fighting to keep bokuto out of emo mode. you teetered on the edge of your seat, clapping when they scored once more.

" lets go bokuto! " you couldnt help but give yourself away, and the look on his face was worth it all.

after that, bokuto scored point after point, taking both starting sets with ease. now akaashi was working on calming him down before they were kicked off the court. you were already on your way down to the court. when he saw you, he rushed off the court without a second though and into the crowd.

" you really came? hey! did you see that? all those were for you baby! " he shouted, taking you in his arms and jumping around, akaashi couldnt help but run after him and say his hello.

" akaashi! my beautiful girlfriend finally came! wait - why are you laughing? did you two set this up? HEY! " he began, hands on his hips and scowling.

---

KEIJI AKAASHI :

another night working late at the corner shop downtown, and man was it slow. you knew akaashi had a game tonight, and you were itching to go see it, but there was no way you could get off of work. so he made the effort to stop by right before leaving.

the door dinged open and before your started the whole 'welcome to l/ns' speech, your boyfriend already set your meal down on the counter. " hey you " he spoke, smiling slightly.

" keiji! but arent you leaving - what are you doing here? " you asked sadly, coming around the counter and hugging him.

he gently ran his fingers across your hair before pulling you back, " im sorry you cant see my game tonight, so i thought id bring you something " he offered, kissing your temple before letting you go completely.

the conversation continued, and he soon left. and your store was empty once again. you peaked into the back at your father, who was sleeping in a chair. you removed your apron quickly and bolted for the door, grabbing the bagged meal on your way out.

you hopped in your car and began directions to the complex, speeding almost half of the time there. you parked, squeezed your way through the people, and found your seat right as warmups began.

you watched the match, clapping and cheering as they took home the win. you said goodbye to some fellow classmates you found in the sea of fans, before rushing down the stairs. you got caught in cross traffic, and barely saw the team head into the locker room for warm down.

you waited patiently, noticing bokuto being the first to leave, " hey! bokuto! " you called out, rushing for him before he wandered from the door.

" ah! akaashis pretty ladyyy " he put his hands on his hips, " i thought you werent coming tonight? " he tilted his head, but the door opened after him.

" bokuto, did you say my - " akaashi was quickly cut off by the sight of you, swiftly scooping his arms under yours and pulling you into a crushing hug.

" i thought i heard you, but i figured i was hallucinating " he laughed, setting you down and holding your head to give you a large and dramatic kiss on the forehead.

" i wouldnt miss you for the world, keij " you giggled, noticing bokuto sulking.

" when is it my turn, akaashi!? " he cried out, trudging away

---

TORUU OIKAWA :

you seethed every time oikawa had a game, especially because his whole fangirl club would just shove you to the side to breathe his air. so when you told him you werent coming to anymore games, he quite literally got on his knees and begged for you to come to his final one, which was tonight.

" absolutely not, toruu! you barely even notice im there anyways! " you argued, crossing your arms and shaking your head.

" wha - no baby i promise! i will glue you to my side! ill shoo them away! " he pleaded, standing up and going to hold your arms.

" no, i have a bunch of homework to do anyways " you giggled, denying his words and looking up at him.

" finee " he sighed dramatically, gathering his things and waling for the front door with you following.

" good luck, okay? hey, i love you " you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before letting him walk out the door and to his match.

a few hours went by, and you got up and groaned, before ultimately driving to his game. you were in an extra jersey, dressing comfortably as you were going to be sitting the rest of the time anyways. you watched the match begin, noticing oikawa was first to serve. and his girls were going crazy.

it was like that for the rest of the time, screeching and drooling over the top balcony at your boyfriend. the game ended and you were now waiting outside near seijohs bus, anyone wouldve thought you were a creepy fangirl too.

when the team came out, and oikawa's eyes finally met yours, he took off running. he lifted you into the air and spun about a hundred times. " i knew you couldnt resisit me! did you see the whole thing? " he asked curiously, kissing all over your face.

a crowd of girls practically melted, tears quite literally rolling down their face at the sight of oikawa and another girl. but he paid no mind, only hugging and gushing over the fact you actually showed up.

" yes toru, i saw the entire thing " you reassured, nodding and giggling,

" oh just wait till i get home - " he muttered, before being slapped on the back by iwazumi.

" lets go shitty-kawa! " he yelled, getting onto the bus.

oikawa gave you one last kiss before waving off and sticking his tongue out. you shook your head and then noticed the stampede of girls that now chased after the bus.

---

HAJIME IWAZUMI :

oh this man was swooning over you, had a picture of you in every crack and crevice of his room or car. he even kept one in this pocket of his shorts during practice. so obviously when you said a family emergency came up, and you cant make it to his game, he was crushed.

" go home and make sure everythings okay, love " he said, kissing your head before seijoh loaded the busses for the tournament. despite him obviously loving when youre there, he understood this was important.

when you got home, a few hours of dealing with whatever had finally passed. you noticed, there was only an hour till seijohs warm ups began. so of course you ran for the car, ripping out of your driveway and speeding down the express ways to make it in time.

you filed into the crowd about halfway through the first set, that seijoh was obviously going to win. the vibes were up and good, oikawa fangirls fawning and falling. you just didnt understand, when your better looking love of your life, hajime iwazumi, was standing right there. well, youd kill anyone who came close to being a fangirl of him.

seijoh took the first set, and the second one, now advancing to the next round. you were over the moon excited, bouncing down each step to find iwa. you managed to tag onto the back of the train of players as they walked, making conversation with maki.

you noticed iwa and oikawa making conversation right outside of the warm down room, and you bolted. you stood behind iwazumi, putting a finger over your lips as oikawa giggled.

" oh it looks like a iwa-chan fan girl does exist! " he chimed, tapping his chin while iwa hummed.

he turned around and his face instantly flushed, lips sputtering out noncoherent words. " wait - yn? what are you doing here? " he asked, shaking his head to clear any confusion.

" well - i broke a few laws just to see you " you laughed, yelping when oikawa shoved iwazumi into you, laughing

" atleast hug your lady! " oikawa gasped, hand on his hip as he tried to escape a running crowd after him.

iwa held you close, head over top of yours, " you did all that for me? " he asked quietly, face hot with embaressment.

" of course i did, iwa! you think id leave you alone with him - " you went to pull away and point, but noticed the stampede oikawa was trampled by.

you and iwa only giggled together, before he looked down at you with the utmost sincere eyes, " thank you. truly, thank you " he muttered, kissing the top of your head while holding your hands.

---

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI :

you didnt even see ushiwaka before he left, he only sent a simple text. 'leaving now, love you' was all he said, you couldnt tell if he was upset about you missing this match, youve been pretty busy, so maybe hed understand.

as much as tendou tried to poke him, he only put in headphones and stared out the window for the entire bus ride. he tried to collect himself before going off and playing for one of the most important tournaments in his entire highschool career - and you werent going to be there.

you sighed and tapped your foot anxiously against your floor, trying to decide if you should really risk skipping all your piled school work to see him. but of course you chose the latter. you threw on one of his academy volleyball hoodies and began the drive.

of course you buckled, and barely sped up. all because of ushijimas extreme car safety thing he had for you. there was a little sticky note reminding you to buckle, and a photo of you two covering anything thing on the right side of the speedometer. and when you flipped your visor down, there was a sticky note next to the mirror that read, 'stop looking in mirrors. you know youre pretty'

you parked pretty shitty, running in and tripping over a few steps as you caught the last glimpse of the second set. ushijima absolutely slamming the last point into the ground. the crowd went wild for them, of course, it was shiratorizawa. everyone needed to see your hunk of a boyfriend that was the best spiker in the prefecture.

you watched him walk off the court, not paying attention to any of the harsh celebration dont by goshiki and tendou. he wiped his forehead, before lining up to shake hands. when the team came to thank to fans, he finally saw you.

you watched every muscle tighten up, and his stoic face falter for a moment. tendou nudged him a bit, before laughing as they walked away. you walked down the stairs carefully, trying not to trip again or you wouldnt hear the end of it from ushijima.

" yn. " he said broodingly, already halfway up to stairs to find you first.

" wakatoshi! " you beamed, trying to rush down to him, but he caught you first, demolishing you into this bear of a hug. " ushi - ! - cant breathe! " you squeaked out, and he let go.

" thank you for making it " he said quietly, blinking down at you, and for a moment, he actually smiled with his teeth.

---

SATORI TENDOU :

he was ecstatic for his game tonight, knowing it was against some no name school that they would beat in 30 minutes. but he was quickly shot down when he heard you say the words 'i cant make it tonight'. so he sulked and sighed.

" yn.. are you sure youre really reallyyyy busy? " he asked, putting his head down on your shoulder as you ate your lunch.

" yes, im sorry tendou " you chewed out, blinking over at him and giving him an apologetic smile.

" hm " was all he peeped out before sitting down in the desk ahead of you, backwards so he could see your face.

he drew meaningless shapes into the desk, huffing and sighing as you packed up your lunch box. the bell rang and you said your goodbye, not seeing him for the rest of the school day. you made sure to send him a big and happy good luck text, hopeful that it would bring his spirits up a bit.

when you went home, you immediately stared on your chores. you picked up around the house, your room, and helped cook, all while reading through your homework assignment. you tried your best to get it done in time to catch the game.

luckily you didnt live far from the stadium, so you arrived just in time for the match to begin. and as tendou expected, they beat the opponents in a whopping 43 minutes. he was giggling with goshiki, and practically jumping over ushijimas head while celebrating.

you stood in the hallway, squinting around and trying to peer over the crowd. you noticed a white and purple jersey, with the most noticeable red hair upon anyone, walking next to the broad wakatoshi.

" satori! " you bellowed out, trying to wave and get his attention but he was on a one track mind.

well, he was, but ushijima turned his head and nodded at you, before tapping tendous shoulder and pointing right in your direction. you waved happily, trying to get him to notice you actually came. and you swore the room just got brighter.

he smiled and laughed, running up to you and pulling your body into a hug. " so you caved? how was i? " he giggled, his cat like face peering down at yours with triumph.

" you all played very well, satori. " you spoke, kissing the corner of his lip and smiling.

" i have the best girlfriend ever " he announced, squeezing you until you coughed one too many times. " see, i told you she'd come, wakatoshi! " he chimed, grabbing around your shoulders to keep you by his side.

ushijima just grunted, looking around before looking down at you. you backed away slightly, smiling nervously all while tendou giggled once more.

[kissylec]

TO THE PLACES WE'VE BEEN AND THE NIGHTS WE'VE HAD.

directed by love you goodbye...

pairing . . . rafe cameon x pogue!reader in which . . . the bonfire always has surprises, but you never thought that one of those surprises would be ending up in tannyhill with the kook prince warning .ᐟ . . . (18+) smut, alcohol consumption, curse words, enemies to lovers, tension, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, first time writing smut. english is not my first language w count . . . 1.5k kissylec says . . . write this in 3 days and i dont really know if i like it or not. my frist time writing smut! im tweaking! thanks to @rafesheaven for the tips you gave me, i hope this is okay i love u. and thanks to @rafeysbabydoll for the idea of this first extra! i also love u. hope you guys like this 😭

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

YOU WERE DOING THIS FOR JJ, and you repeated that to yourself over and over again. The bonfire was the last thing on your mind after the day you'd had, having to put on makeup and get dressed made your head hurt and your feet felt tired just walking to the vanity. But everything went to shit in a short time, which you expected, but at least you had that slight glimmer of hope that it won't happen.

It all begun when Topper – because of course it was Topper – started bothering sarah. Your and your friends' irritation was instantly aired, creating a tense atmosphere that was not lost on anyone. And between John B complaining, JJ wanting to fight, and Kiara trying to calm down everyone who came near, you couldn't take it anymore.

The overstimulation ate away at you to the point that you left without warning, a habit that was ingrained in you. The sound of voices grew farther away with each step you took, and the cold and salty breeze became more and more present. That's when you thought about the beach, and that maybe it would be a good idea to stop by there.

The sand on your feet felt colder than usual and the wind was a caress on your exposed skin. You took long, deep breaths, making circles in the palm of your left hand as you tried to maintain a calm that you were afraid would slip away. The sound of the sea was in the background, and a relaxation alien to you had found you. until.

You okay?

The thick, familiar voice startles you, causing you to bring a hand to your chest and open your eyes, your gaze traveling to the direction the voice came from.

Rafe Cameron.

"You scared the shit outta me," you say, your gaze traveling all over rafe's body. a bottle of alcohol in his hand, his brow furrowed. his curtain bangs were gone, replaced by a neat buzz cut, which made him look more... mature, older even.

Rafe continues to scowl, looking away from you. "Yeah well, it's creepier when a girl stands next to you and closes her eyes and all that shit you were doing just now." his lips take a sip from what appears to be a bottle of whiskey, his eyes fixed on the water.

You just rolled your eyes, mimicking his action of looking away. you never gave rafe much importance, but your annoyance for him was no small thing. He was nothing sacred among pogues, as if his name were a curse. "I may be creepy but you're sad" you started saying. "Drinking by yourself on the beach? Not really a very fun activity."

Rafe takes another long sip from the bottle, his muscles flexing as he raises his arm. “Shouldn’t you be there?” he asks, still not looking at you.

Rafe knew about you, not much, but he knew enough. He always insisted that you stood out from any friend sarah might have had, you were not overlooked, you always left a mark. You had that something that takes a person a while to figure out. You were different, and it sounds corny and repetitive, but you were, and Rafe liked that.

Fot a split second you considered telling him why you left the bonfire, but you didn't. "I got bored," you said simply, feeling rafe turn his head and his eyes burn into your cheek. "What's your excuse?"

Rafe swore his heart stopped for a second when you turned your head to make your first eye contact of the night, his lips felt dry but he didn't have the balls to lick them in front of you.

He just shrugged. "I don't want to be there" he says.

You slowly nod your head, your eyes locked on rafe's blue ones, who didn't seem to want to take his eyes off you. The sound of clothes rustling and him handing you the bottle of whiskey caught your attention, raising your eyebrows.

Parting your lips you take the bottle, the contact with rafe’s fingers leaving a rough feeling on your skin. Still looking into his eyes, you took an unexpectedly long sip, your throat burning instantly, making you grimace in disgust and drop the bottle. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“What was that?” he asks, following with his gaze as you spit the amber liquid into the sand.

“That shit is disgusting” you say, wiping your chin, which had dropped drops of the drink.

You shake your head, your eyes falling on his face. You allow yourself to analyze the small details, how his eyes close when he smiles, the occasional mark on his skin, his hand wrapped around most of the bottle as soon as you handed it back to him.

Rafe parts his lips, you could see his eyes drop to his lap, as if he was hesitant. “I have more bottles at Tannyhill, of… other things,” he says, hesitantly. "If you want."

Your eyes widened, letting out a laugh you couldn’t control. “Are you serious?” you said, your smile taken as mockery by him.

Rafe frowns, his gaze going to you, making you erase your smile. A slight tension began to aired between you two, that tension which anyone who was there could feel, that tension that makes your stomach hurt and your heart race.

"Did you really just said what you just said?" you asked, your eyebrows raising as you looked at him.

“What’s wrong with what I said?” Rafe asks, his tone of voice harsher than he intended.

You frown, careful not to fumble with your words. “No, absolutely not.”

“Why not?"

“Because it’s you,” you simply reply, looking at him. “And I would never do anything with you.”

Your words seemed to trigger something in him, who raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, as if he were studying you. You felt your pulse quicken, his jaw suddenly looked attractive, and his challenging eyes made your lower stomach feel warm.

"Never, huh?"

Those were the last words you could remember coming out of his mouth, because all you were focused right now, was on him. On his tongue expertly moving between your wet folds, on how he flicked it against your clit. His fingers gripped your thighs to keep you from moving, the pressure was so strong that you knew there would be marks, but you didn't care.

You had tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes, your o-shaped lips letting out moan after moan, babbling every now and then as you felt his tongue fucking you as if it were the only thing he was useful for.

"Prettiest cunt" he grunts against your center, placing open-mouthed kisses over your clit. "So needy."

"Fuck—Rafe" was the only thing that could come out of your mouth.

You start to rub your pussy against him when you feel close, that delicious pressure in your pelvis growing, so is the burning in your clit, your moans turning into soft cries, desperate to cum, and Rafe notices it, but that wasn't going to happen.

His mouth leaves you, automatically going to the level of your face. His lips, chin and nose glistening with your arousal, his pupils dilated with pleasure, his breathing accelerated, all so sexy that you could have cum just from that sight.

Before you could even protest he crashed your lips against his, moaning as you tasted yourself. Your tongues danced deliciously, making everything more disgusting.

"Wen' you to cum on my cock" Rafe manages to say between kisses, and you never wondered when he took off his pants and started pumping his heavy length, but he did. "You're capable of doing that? Huh?"

He guide his tip to your puffy and achy clit, teasing it, coating it with your slick. "Fuck—could you be any more fucking wet?"

The tip traveled to your center, gasping as he entered inch by inch to the brim, forcing you to take him all. Your eyes rolled back in your head, feeling his cock caress your insides. you could swear you felt him kiss your cervix.

"Oh so tight, all f'me... isn't that right?" Rafe purrs against your ear, his hips moving almost instantly after filling you.

Your brain blanked out, letting him handle you as he pleased, your legs on his shoulders as his pace quickened. “Rafe,” you stammered, your eyes squeezing shut.

"Grippin' me so tight, you gonna cum?" Rafe murmurs condescendingly. "This sweet pussy gonna cum? Huh?"

It was ridiculous, almost pathetic, but his words and the way your sweet spot was hit over and over again had you cumming on his cock, your back arching and a small cry came out of your mouth. Rafe groans, his face hiding in your neck, his cock twitching and painting your insides with his cum.

You felt kisses on your neck, the thrusts fading in rhythm, his hands caressing your sides. Your eyes slowly opened, your lips dry as the light from the nightstand made its presence felt beside you.

Then, and just then, it clicked. "We can't do this again" was the first thing that left your lips.

But Rafe had already taken you over. And there was no escape from that.

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© KISSYLEC. 2025 — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[fyuyushia]

Sung Jinwoo and dress shopping.

Me when prompt is them spoiling you🫣🫣🫣 this ain't even the last of this prompt yet I'm telling you. There's more bc I'm all in for men who spend money on you😔

Ever since he became a full-fledged recognized S-rank hunter, Jinwoo's wallet quickly became stacked to the brim with money. He was filthy rich from selling materials and going through raids. Even after spending money to buy weapons and equipment, paying for Jinah's tuition, rent, and more—he still had plenty left waiting to be spent.

And what better way to spend it than spend it on you?

And so you often find yourself going to the mall with Jinwoo more often. On days when he wasn't busy grinding exp, he would go out on dates with you—shopping dates being the more prevalent ones of all.

"Jinwoo, which one do you think is better?" You turn from the mirror to Jinwoo, raising two dresses to his view.

He hums, raising a brow at the sudden question. Staring at both pieces of clothing, he places a hand on his chin as his lips form a thoughtful frown.

"They both look good on you." Was his final verdict.

You didn't seem to be too pleased with that however, as you simply offered him a deadpan. "I know that—I'm asking which one you prefer. Which of the two looks better on me?"

"Like I said, they both look good on you, sarang."

You bring your arms down, lips forming a thin line. Breathing out a heavy sigh, you turn around and decide that this man was of no help at all. Though you were flattered by his words, it really didn't help when it came to making a decision.

"Nevermind, you're useless." You huff, keeping a mental note to not ask him again next time.

Jinwoo's brows arise when he notices your frustration. Taking a step to bridge the distance, he wraps his arms around your waist and brings your back to his chest. You freeze, relaxing immediately in his arms when you realize that it was just him.

"If you're having a hard time picking you can always just buy both."

You peer at him through the full body mirror in front. "Don't be ridiculous, I can't afford both."

"But I can, just say the word; I'll buy you the world."

You blink, then frown. "I'd feel horrible."

He hums, his chest rumbling in turn. Though his face showed little changes, the slight furrow of his brows didn't go unnoticed by you. He pulls away, untangling his arms(begrudgingly) as he calls for the salesman.

"Excuse me, I'd like to buy these two."

You gasp, immediately turning around to face him. "Hey—!"

You don't even get the word in before he's already taking the dresses from your arms and handing it over to the worker to get it packed. Offering his payment with ease, he pays little attention to the amount.

"What's the big idea?"

A small smile crosses his lips, barely noticeable, but something you were quick to catch on after years of dating.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just helping you out since you're being so indecisive."

"Jeez, you're unbelievable."

Jinwoo doesn't bother defending himself, opting to look at the selection of clothes around the boutique. His gaze would flit from one dress to another, lips pursed in a thin line as if considering something important. Walking slowly, he circles around, considering each and every piece as the workers pack up the dress for them.

You follow close behind, commenting on a few dresses here and there. You looked at Jinwoo curiously, wondering what he could be thinking so hard about.

Taking a piece of clothing from the rack, he hovers it in front of you wordlessly, catching you by surprise. You stand still, not expecting to be put on the spot. In the meantime, he's switching from one clothing to another, mixing and matching, imagining what it would look like on you with the limited range of imagination he has.

By the time the worker returns, the now packed dresses in hand, Sung Jinwoo nods to himself, finally making a decision. For what? You don't and won't know until a few seconds later.

"Ah, also, from here" Jinwoo pointed from where he stood. "To there." And then at the far end of the line. "I'll buy them all. Please pack them for me as well."

The worker seemed shook, baffled even, going by the gaping of his mouth at the customer's words. "P-pardon?"

"You didn't hear me? I said I'll buy everything on this line so pack them for me too."

You flinch, nearly jump out of sheer shock. "Hold on, Jinwoo?! What are you saying?"

Jinwoo spares you a glance. His gaze flits to your hand, intertwining his own with yours. Lacing his fingers through your own, he brings it up to his lips and presses a chaste kiss against it.

"Sorry, I can't help it. When I think of you wearing them I couldn't stop myself from buying them all for you."

"Don't be ridiculous! I have no need for so many clothes, take back your order—I don't even think I have room for so much clothes in the first place!"

"No can do, just accept it. It's a token of my gratitude for all you've given." His voice is low and convincing, a subtle tone of pleading laced in his words.

For a moment, as your own hues met his colorless grey eyes, you could faintly see the Sung Jinwoo you think you've lost shining through. A more meek side of him that searched for your approval, a timid gentleman who often gave more than he allowed himself to receive.

"Accept it for me?"

Met with eyes like that, how could you even resist and say no? Your cheeks flushed, flustered by his antics. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache approach as you once again succumb to his whims. In the end, you were nothing more than a fool who'd give in easily to the smallest of pleas from the one you loved.

"And to think just months ago you were so stingy about your money. Are you sure you didn't get possessed?"

Jinwoo laughs, the sound low and charming. Curse him for being such a dreamboat, because now your ears are turning red. Who gave him permission?

"Too much money has been flooding my pockets lately." He says, tugging you close to him once more.

"An enviable dilemma."

"I want to use it to spoil you. I don't need much for myself, so I prefer spending it on you instead. Is that so wrong?" He tilts his head, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

No it's not, Jinwoo thinks. If it's you then any amount was worth it. For you who held him tightly as storms weathered through, for you who built him a home when he was lost and in search of warmth, no amount would come close to repaying the gratitude he had for you who never gave him up.

[no-144444]

hey girl! I LOVEEED your last lando story and i was just wondering if you could do a smut with lewis and franco and reader where lewis is married to reader and franco is into her so lewis makes him watch while he's fucking her? just thought it could be hot.

thank you ml!!!

know it- l.hamilton & f.colapinto

summary: lewis is possessive. franco is a flirt. makes for one wild night. (18+)

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem! wife reader x franco colapinto

warnings: shockingly SMUT. 18+ also, slightly filthy smut, so yeah.

a/n: i'll just leave this here... (why am i only writing smut this week wtf?)

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Lewis was known to be a calm person. 

He was anything but calm as he watched Franco put his hand on your waist. Lewis was under the impression that anyone with half a brain could see that you were his wife. Clearly Franco had less than half a brain. He likes Franco, he was a good kid, a good driver, etc. But clearly he wasn’t smart. 

Lewis stalked over to you, the red flashing lights of the dance floor exenuating every single one of your perfect features. He watched like a hawk as you laughed along to one of Franco’s bad jokes. He understood where Franco was coming from, of course he did. He did marry you, after all. But you were exactly that, his wife. Franco wasn’t going to change that. You stood in the centre of the room, your flowing hair and long dress making you look like a goddess. Too bad he was the only one allowed to worship you. 

He kissed your cheek as you leaned in to listen to whatever Franco was saying. You instinctively wrapped an arm around Lewis’s neck, pulling him closer. Franco frowned when he saw Lewis, but picked it back up in time before you saw. 

So he knew what he was doing. 

Lewis smirked as he snaked a hand around your waist, removing Franco’s hand. 

“What do you say about getting out of here?” He murmured, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. You knew what he meant. Franco quickly excused himself, though not before sending Lewis a particularly withering look. 

“This is meant to be your party, Lewis,” you teasingly reminded him. “We’re hosting. We can’t just leave.” 

“Actually, I think we can,” he chuckled, a recognisable danger in his eyes. He leaned in again, his mouth just beside your ear. “We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“Whatever we want?” You mused, your hands exploring down his arms. 

“Anything baby, anything,” he smirked, taking your hands in his. “And I have a few plans,” he admitted. 

You smirked up at him with those eyes, the ones that made him want to throw caution to the wind and fuck you right there in front of everyone. In front of Franco. 

Now that was an idea. 

“You do?” You swallowed, feeling the wetness pool between your legs. “And what are those plans?” You whispered. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered back, making eye contact with Franco. Franco stared at the two of you with a scowl. “And I’m going to make Franco watch.”

You gasped. Never in your marriage had Lewis ever remotely been inclined to share. Not that you ever wanted to either, but Lewis was… possessive to say the least. “Lewis-“

“I’m sure he’ll come to our bedroom if you ask him, won’t he sweetheart?” He smirked, his cock pushing up against his slacks. 

“Lewis, are you sure?” You asked. 

“If you’re alright with it,” he whispered. “I want to see his face when he realises you only cum for me.”

The created quite the image in your head. You gulped. 

And walked over to Franco, ready to ask him, just like the slut Lewis knew you were. 

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Franco walked into the club bathroom, you pulling him along. He pressed experimental kisses to your shoulder as you led him to the right place. 

Lewis was waiting and he watched as Franco’s face fell. 

“I noticed how you kept looking at me,” you spoke up, turning to face Franco. “We were wondering if you wanted to join us.”

His cock hardened in his pants and he gulped. “Y-yes.”

Lewis smirked. “Sit over there.”

Franco did as he was told, sitting in the corner of the room. Both the men watched as you pulled off your dress pain-stakingly slowly, but they were basically in awe when they saw you naked. 

“No panties?” Lewis chuckled as you sat on his lap. “So dirty.”

Franco thought he was going to explode right then and there if he didn’t get to touch you. 

You shrugged and grinned Lewis’s lip as you kissed him. His hands groped all over your body, and Franco bit his lip to stop himself from moaning. The sight in front of him was so erotic, listening to your little moans as Lewis teased you, watching how you were putty in his hands. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” Lewis whispered as he drew little circles on you clit. “Should we let Franco see?” 

You nodded eagerly. You’d never felt sexier. Two of the most beautiful men in the world begging to fuck you? Yeah, way to boost a girl’s ego. 

“Such a dirty slut,” Lewis shook his head and slapped your ass, making you jolt closer to him. Though he obliged you all the same, signaling for Franco to come over. He knelt in front of the both of you, a perfect view of your dripping pussy, watching as Lewis played with you. “Do you want to touch, Franco?” 

“Please,” He groaned, grinding into his own hand. 

Lewis laughed as your joint desperation. “Play with her all you want,” he smirked, dropping you onto Franco’s face. 

You immediately started riding his nose like your life depended on it, steadying yourself on Lewis’s thighs. Franco was in the seventh fucking heaven as he tongue-fucked you, your thighs on either side of his face, caging him in. Lewis ate pussy like a champion, and while Franco wasn’t as good, he was definitely different. Lewis fucked like he drove, like he already won. Franco fucked like he still had something to prove. 

“You like riding his face baby?” Lewis cooed, unbuttoning his trousers. 

You moaned out some sort of agreement, your eyes unfocused and glassy. 

“You gonna suck my cock like a good girl?” He cooed again. 

He watched in delight as your eyes went wide. You tentatively wrapped a hand around his heavy cock, stroking him softly. You pressed kitten licks to his head between moans, before he grabbed you by the hair and sunk you down on his cock. You nearly screamed. The mixture of pleasure and pain becoming practically unbearable, but you still couldn’t cum. 

You sucked on his cock like you were trying to milk him dry, and he enjoyed every single moment of it. He listened to your little moans and Franco groans of desperation between your legs, and came down your throat. You swallowed without even having to be asked.

“Please let me cum!” You begged as he pulled you off his cock. “Lewis, I need you to make me cum, please make me cum baby, please.”

Lewis chuckled. “Franco isn’t making you cum?” 

You shook your head, eyes filling with tears. “Only you, Lew, please.”

Who was he to deny his girl? He lifted you off Franco’s face and pulled you onto his cock. Franco groaned at the loss of contact, while you practically screamed at Lewis’s size. No matter how many times, you still weren’t used to it. 

Lewis looked down at Franco, wet patch on his trousers, your wetness covering the lower half of his face, and a satisfied but pained smile on his lips. He watched you two in the mirror, completely transfixed on the sight in front of him. 

“You doing alright Franco?” Lewis laughed as you bounced up and down on his cock, his own voice straining. 

“Great,” he answered, his voice weak. 

“Y’gonna fuck her in the ass while I fuck her tight pussy?” He smirked. Franco stood right up and pulled his trousers down. He looked at your ass, noticing the butt plug he’d missed before. He could’ve moaned out loud. He slowly pulled it out, pulling a high-pitched moan from you, and he replaced it with his own cock, already hard again. 

“Y’gonna let Franco fuck you baby?” Lewis asked as you tensed, feeling Franco enter you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You shouted, digging your head into his shoulder. “I need to cum!”

“You cum baby, Franco and I aren’t done yet,” Lewis cooed, feeling you squirt on his cock. He looked up at Franco as he fucked you through your orgasm. His pupils were blown out as he fucked your asshole, practically drooling all over you. Lewis smirked. 

“She’s cumming on my cock,” he gritted out, fucking you harder. “She wears my ring on his finger. She sleeps in my bed,” Lewis pushed Franco back, just as he was about to cum. Franco came all over himself, a groaning mess. “She’s my wife. Don’t fucking forget it.”

Franco watched as Lewis came deep inside you, triggering your second orgasm of the night. The jealousy he harboured only grew, while Lewis’s pride soared. 

You were his.

Franco knew that now.

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