#and then I realized that my approach was all wrong..?

[asaedw]

PINKLOCK Chapter 00/Prologue: You Belong Amongst The Best

Please read the author’s note and the characters' information at the end. (wc: 3153)

2025.

It was never a matter of fate. The position of this ball now, where it will land in the next second, and who will be the first to capture it. All of this must be a random selection of the universe. Or so I would have thought before PINKLOCK. Luck is one of the trillion factors that decide who gets to sit atop our corpses. Who gets to hold the treasure.

The ball flies across the field. I position myself, ready to be Queen. Maybe in one of the infinite universes that I exist in, there is a place where I can be chosen.

To the very right of my foot is a familiar warmth. I don’t get to process it or adjust to the nostalgic scent. The ball obeys her every command and falls to her foot like it's submitting. She read all of it. Every little trajectory, every twirl of the ball, and position of the players that I managed to analyze in these ninety minutes, she knew all of it before me. Her eyes darken as we meet once more, years later.

“Didn’t I tell you? You’re worth nothing here.” I want to deny, to reject like I've always done. Now she runs toward the goal after stealing my crown for the hundredth time while I'm frozen in shock. I became too arrogant. I thought I had evolved. Grown. But she always manages to prove me wrong.

And now, it’s my turn to do that.

November 18, 2018.

I wanted to go home while I was already in it. I reminisced about the times when I had a companion. My other half, who one day changed. It was an exhausting day for me. Waking up early to practice because I didn’t want my parents to know. It’s not like they didn’t know that I was playing soccer. They simply didn’t like it when I did. I hadn’t realized this when I was still younger, but now I do. I was meant to be a vessel for their dreams. So I left for the nearby field in the town.

They’re validation was my first reason to play, but soon, it was gone. The spark of excitement I used to feel when I’d score a goal. It had vanished. As soon as my brother was born.

“We have hope.” They’d cry out in bliss at the sight of him. I was eleven, and I was abandoned. I felt worthless.

I continued to play, however. It felt like the only reason I wasn’t a nobody yet was because I had some skill in the game. I would avoid letting them know, still. They didn’t like it when I had even a glimmer of faith in myself.

“You should focus on studying, he’ll be our champion.”

I had to prove myself to them.

The big game was the next day. Since we had moved to Japan when I was ten, I’d been playing here alone ever since. I had Kieymi at one point. She would reassure me, support me. I got too attached, perhaps. One random day, she changed. She grew hateful and even vengeful of me. I never shed a tear at the people who’d bully me. Not even many for the harsh words I’d hear at home. But a part of me died the day she became his way. We were soulmates. Now she’s a faint memory.

Now I stood there in the empty field from dusk till dawn, hearing an echoing cheer and wishing it were real. I would be playing against her the next day, and just the thought of it sent my heart dropping to my stomach. Kick after kick, I would score goals from different ranges and different angles. I practiced unique trajectories, imagining her begging face looking up at me from below. I wanted to crush her. Destroy her. Like she’d done to me.

Maybe that’s what got me to continue playing. The reminder that she’s better than me at something I began four years before her.

As I was panting from exhaustion and envy, I noticed a dark figure somewhere in the corner of the field. It was a woman’s body. She observed me closely. It wasn’t light enough to read her expression. But she looked almost malicious. I approached, and now I realize it could have been stupid of me to do so. She was harmless, however. She handed me a letter quietly and watched me take it. The now rising sun shed light on her glistening eyes.

“My name is Teieri Anri. My dream is to—“I wasn’t willing to hear a speech, so I turned around and hurried home to open the letter. I had a feeling I should keep it a secret, whatever it was. I felt that this ‘Anri Teieri’ was a genuine person, and she radiated the trust and faith I sometimes wished my parents did in me.

Things didn’t go as planned. They never do. My brother was four years old. He didn’t know any better, but I still almost resent him for that day. I was busy helping my mother with chores. Aman could walk at the time, like many four-year-olds. He saw the letter I had foolishly placed in his reach, which he brought out of my room, my comfort, and into what almost always feels like a battlefield.

“Asa, do you want to explain yourself?” My father stood, his arms to his side. He questioned why I had accepted such a letter. They never forced me to stop, but they disliked the idea of me playing professionally. Accepting a letter that was inviting me to play with real players was a sin in their eyes. My mother soon joined and began her rant. Both of their shouts were in a duet as they spat mild threats at me.  My ears rang from the noise.

“Shut up!” I yelled, and then I regretted it. Silence filled the room for a brief moment. Each second felt like an escalation towards an impending doom. I trembled, wondering about the consequences of my outburst. Then, with a sharp pull, the letter ripped apart in my father's hand. I swore I felt my heart rip in sync. The two pieces fell onto the floor.

“You will never play Soccer again. It was never for you.” With that, he turned to leave, my mother clicked her tongue. I remember falling to my knees, picking the two pieces up with trembling hands. She left the dining room, where the scene took place. I wondered why the neighbors weren’t outside our house after the noise and looked at the large window. Kieymi stood there, watching closely. I couldn't read her expression. The vulnerability lay in me because I was naked. She saw through me. She fled soon after a brief eye contact.

In that moment, I knew she’d gotten the letter too.

I clenched my fists, gagging at the thought. She left an imprint of her gorgeous fucking almonds for eyes, her expression so stoic it angered me to my core. I locked myself in my room. Planning to isolate myself permanently. This big stage was for Kieymi. Not a loser like me, I thought. I fell to the floor, my head bent like I was praying to some God for the same blessings he’d showered on her. After a good thirty seconds of choking myself till my face went blue, I ran around my room searching for tape. The letter looked fucked taped together. But I’d made up my mind. Obsession always beats talent.

I was going to go to this ‘Pinklock’ and nobody was going to stop me.

Was it an escape? Was it a dream? I don’t know. When I get there, I want to see her again. And I want to shatter every piece of hope or desire that she’s ever had in the palm of my hand. Maybe… it was revenge.

The next morning came quickly. I didn’t get much sleep, like usual. I had packed all of my essentials, including the now pathetic but signed letter the night before. The night that changed everything. I carried my stuffed schoolbag to the window, from where I climbed out. It wasn’t too high to jump, but my legs still needed a little work. My father probably thought it was another day of school. But little did they know, I was gone for good. I did steal a little cash and some food from the fridge.

I ditched the ‘big game’. My priority was now elsewhere. And I knew that Kiyemi was also not about to appear in today’s match either. There was a given time on the letter, which said that if you failed to show up within, you wouldn’t be accepted. Something about ‘lock off.’ It piqued my interest, and I knew I had to explore it. Today, I feel it was the best decision I could have made at the time. It was a catalyst for my career.

My heart raced as I got into the taxi.  I felt that I was doing something so wrong. So shameful. But I hushed the angry voices with music. Soon, I was outside a tall building. It was closed, as expected. The time on the letter says 1:00 p.m., and I was there at three in the morning. I waited outside, trying to get some rest on the bench. I fell asleep soon, in fear that I’d wake up dead. There was no turning back now.

“Asa! Asa-chan!” An annoying voice woke me up. The blinding sun was needles in my eyes despite the clouds following up behind. I rubbed my eyes. A light brown-haired girl stood before me, holding my belongings.

“Who the hell are you?” I rose from the hard bench.

“I watched you play in the sports day this year. Also, be a little more polite, would ya’?” Her voice was bratty yet sweet, matching the honey of her hair.

I finally grabbed the bag from her hand.

“It’s about to close, let's hurry.” She dragged me into the building with an arm. “I knew you wouldn’t show up to today's game.”

“I doubt we know each other.” My response was bland. I wasn’t aiming to make new friends.

“Yonago Kita High, right?” I wondered why this person was so excited to see me. “Ah- my name is Hoshino Tori.”

The gigantic doors behind us shut automatically, and I noticed many of us flinch. I looked around. It was an auditorium full of female players. I noticed a brown girl dressed in forest hues, and a young idol with cotton candy for hair. Then I even noticed two dark skinned women standing side by side. Some stares were intense, some were playful. I was dizzy from the earlier sun and now, the mixture of a hundred fragrances in the room.

Then… I saw Kiyemi. I wanted to hide. After what she’d seen last night, I can only expect that she’ll have a lot to tease me for. Her pin-straight, ash-brown hime cut gracefully blew by her sides as she approached me.

“What do you want?” I began. She ran a finger through my bangs, correcting my messy hair. My eye twitched. How could you be so composed? So… okay with yourself and so confident before me despite all you’ve done to me?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes skimming my features. Her voice was bland, like her expression. She looked as if trying to decode what had changed in me.

“I’m a fucking soccer player, what do you think I’m doing here?”

“Is that so?” Her voice was cold. Nothing like the warmth that once uplifted me. I didn’t grace her with a response.

Tori watched the scene unfold, stepping in. She was blissfully unaware of our past connections. “You wanna be an asshole? Go do it somewhere else, bitch.” She spat out at Kiyemi. She chuckled in response and fled, leaving a pat on my shoulder. I was a bit shocked at the pretty lady spitting such venomous words. But I was okay with it. I traced the place on my shoulder where Kiyemi had just done a moment ago, but then quickly stopped myself.

Then, the lights went out. A lanky man with a jet black bowl cut became prominent on the stage, the blinding spotlight fixated on him. We looked at him curiously. A bunch of gossips were heard before he began to speak.

“And test, test, test. Congratulations and welcome, diamonds in the rough. You are the 300 18 and under strikers who have been chosen due to my arbitrary and biased decision making. And I am Jinpachi Ego, the man who was hired to ensure Japan’s future victory at the World Cup.”

We looked at him like he was insane... Which was our first impression of him, anyway. Hired? By whom and where did the World Cup come from? He continued to speak.

“It’s simple, really. In order to outstrip the rest of the world, Japanese soccer requires just one thing. And that is the birth of a revolutionary striker. I’ll be performing an experiment to turn one of you 300 into the single best striker in the world.” The girls looked around, as if the man on the stage had just grown another head. Did he just say… experiment? We were all equally confused and even a little unsettled by the psychopathic man in front of us.

“Um… sir?” the brown girl in the crowd raised a shy hand, “By ‘experiment’, you mean real training, right? How is your training better than other training camps and team practices? And… who’s paying you?” Good questions, I thought. The man before us now was a freak, after all.

He scratched his bowl cut, “Paying me? Is that all you heard? The JFU will be paying me once a Japanese team wins the World Cup.” He shakes a hand, that money didn’t matter to him, “, and as for what makes my training more reliable than the coaches you’ve been playing with for so long... Let's just say, uh, everything. You will all play a survival style of soccer. Here, it's not just some game, but a battlefield. Your coaches focus only on the physical aspects of the game, whereas your psychology and play style are what truly create your games. I will put you through psychological warfare and break you down mentally. This will restructure you for better playing. Here at Pinklock, you will train in a hyper-modern facility with high-tech and robotic analysis, which you can find nowhere else in this country. Lastly and most importantly, your next games will not depend on your teammates or the power of friendship. But on your EGO. “

We were all suspicious of the man. And yet, we were all intrigued. He continued to speak for three to four minutes about some ‘EGO’ that we lacked. I remember him expressing some pity for the country with statements like, “Is the future of Japan really in your hands?” he looked down at us like we were trash.

“What exactly do you mean by EGO?” a girl with striped hair, who was twirling it around her finger, raised a question, “and how is it a reliable method of securing the World Cup?”

“Hm?” the man was puzzled, he scratched his bowl cut for the hundredth time. “Tell me, why is Japanese soccer still not worthy of a win? No, let me ask you this: What is soccer? Is it about the eleven players working together? The bonds you form? Self-sacrifice? Fighting for your teammates? That kind of thinking is why this country's game has remained weak. I’ll tell you the right answer: soccer is about one thing.” He paused for a brief second, which left us all anticipating his next words: “Scoring more goals than your opponent does.” He shouts out in a frantic scream, which causes us to flinch, his body bending in all sorts of weird ways. We all gasped at the sight of the freak show he was putting on.

I couldn’t help but wonder where this man picked up his ideologies from. And just why did they make so much sense? If all teammates are trying to better each other instead of focusing on creating their own goals, they’ll have minimal and luck-based goals depending on the positioning of players. But if all eleven were self-absorbed ‘egoists’ like this guy wants us to be, we’d create many and potentially legendary goals.

The man then quoted Cristiano Ronaldo, Eric Cantona, and Pele. About their selfishness. I didn’t want to believe him. He was right, but I didn’t want to. It was the opposite of everything I’d ever been taught. It was undeniable. Soccer, at its very core, was about being the one who scores the most goals. Even your teammates are competition.

“You can’t possibly become the best striker unless you’re the biggest egoist. Which is why you’re all here. So I can create a player who has what it takes. Someone to climb on top of 299 corpses. A solitary hero...” he continued. Everyone looked at each other. Some were left with their mouth agape, some frowning.

I felt a sense of disturbing belonging.

Maybe that one thing that put Kiyemi in front of me was this ‘ego’, I thought. Even if she didn’t know or put a label on it yet. Just maybe, if I could achieve something supernatural like she did on that day, I’d be able to demolish her. Surpass her. And that’s why—my foot, without my permission, stepped closer to the stage. The curtains behind him now were raised, and beyond a blinding white, I could not see. It was an unspoken invitation by the madman before us, asking to join him in his fantasies. he smiled like a maniac while he spurted what sounded like idiocy continuously. No one dared to step forward. Yet, I gravitated toward him.

“So what you're saying is...” A familiar voice claws at my nerves. “…Is that only one of us survives at the end?”

I turned to face her once more. Her almonds were now full of anticipation and the same anxiety that was coursing through my veins. I wanted to say nothing and everything to her at the same time. But I only said one, plain warning. I spoke, one last time, yet I knew a hundred more conversations were to come. I ran toward the man, like he was a savior. He did notice me, closest to the gates of what looked like heaven. What could be hell. His eyes widened as he watched me pace towards him, and all I hoped was that what she heard me say last was enough. Enough for her.  

“There can't be two bests now, can there... Kiyemi?”

Authors note and characters:-

Pinklock is situated in Japan hence, all characters speak in Japanese but writen in English unless stated otherwise. The first selection will be written in past tense as it falls all the way back to November 18, 2018. It is intended that Bluelock and Pinklock occur in the same universe because after the third selection, Pinklock characters will play against the boys team. The winning team will then play against Japan’s U20. Some characters will be eliminated and some will appear later. You must trust the process. One chapter will be written per month because I am also undergoing finals as I write this. All writing done here is solely by me alone. OCs and their backstory is written by tagged people mostly. Please do not translate, plagiarize or share my work without my permission. All chapters are more that 2k and less that 5k words. You may draw a scene or character but only after permission js granted which you may do in message or ask. Background characters are untagged as they will not have much of a role. I request that all people’s who sent a character tagged below send me their discord username (preferrably in tthe cmnts) so that we may have an open discussion for suggestions and feedback. If you want to add Characters submitted by readers so forth are tagged at the end. I would greatly appreciate if the OCs tagged in this series could reblog my post because that support would motivate me to write further!

🚬 I'm sorry it took a minute, girls, and also I couldn't fit all characters into chapter zero, but don't you guys worry because they will be mentioned when it is your characters' team's turn to play against Asa's. I will try my best to write them all justly and let all of them shine. Also, someone also asked about elimination. if I plan to eliminate a character, I will discuss it with you and justify. I won't do it out of the blue, I love your ocs lol. please enjoy my babes and tell me who's your fav so far.

Find the characters and their rightful owners in my PINKLOCK CHARACTERS post.

@kiyy0mei , @innvmorati , @minlahzz , @feliwnni , @alexiaray , @kacchans-waifu , @jwmiooa , @pinkymangacaps , @cafem3wcuryy , @prettyluvvs-ichi , @plutoplue , @serial-gooner-lain , @hygienic-law , @dollyrins , @onlykaiiisagiz , @t3chn0chan ,

[slaaneshsleftovergender]

Okay, here we go, my first attempt at dadarch head cannons. I hope they amuse -

> Some are absolutely better then others lol

Absolutely Devastated and Shows It (ranked least emorionally fucked up to most)

Lorgar -

He hasn't worked through his daddy issues, let's be honest he doesn't even realize he has them, but he still felt the need to do better than his father(s). And after this...he feels like he's already failed. How could he not after seeing the fear in his child's bright eyes?

Mortarion -

He feared being a father, but a part of him he considers selfish wanted to be a father *so* badly, and more than that a good one. Then this, it's just confirming he's not cut out for this. That he should have never tried. He's just…so sad.

Devastated and Hiding It (ranked most emotionally fucked up to least)

Guilliman - Theoretical, his child will come to know him over time. Practical, his child is afraid of him. He keeps it calm, stoic, and sets reasonable goals. And if when he's by himself his shoulders tremble and he stares at the ceiling blinking for a while, it's no one's business but his.

Sanguinius - Does he have self esteem issues? Like, established… pretty sure he has self esteem issues over being a mutant. Either way though, he's beloved by all, he's used to being adored, so the fact the one person he'd want to trust him the most is eyeing him with suspicion...he's keeping his head up and hoping no one sees the fragility of his smile.

Corvus - He cares about people. He was excited about becoming a father, but was nervous about the reunion - and his anxieties came true. Kinda cheating the whole “not showing it”, because he isolates lol

Disappointed but Hides it Well

Fulgrim - he had built up the meeting in his head, something heartwarming where he cuts a heroic figure returning from The Great Crusade. When it turns out quite the opposite, when his child's eyes filled with tears, he has to gear shift fast. Maybe makes a joke about being too resplendent, maybe mock horror that his child might have bad taste, basically lightens the mood and redirects attention.

Disappointed, but Handles it Really Well

Vulkan - Look, he has reasonable expectations. And I think he's used to people looking at him in fear despite him wanting to help. His child, his family in general, mean a great deal to him, which is why he'll approach the relationship slowly from the get go. He looks forward to seeing his child smile at him.

Leman - He's boisterous, and excited, and really overwhelming. He's also a lot more self aware then he gets credit for, and he'll quite down quickly when he sees how his child is reacting. I think he processes it on an instinctual level, like the child doesn't know his scent, his presence in the pack, his pup will have to be integrated in and vice versa. He's very warm and pacient about it.

Calm

Khan - Unphased and prepared. I really enjoy the headcanon that he has a lot of kids - he's got a wild spirit n noble heart, and it's not his first rodeo.

> “But what about the first time?” Saw it happen to someone else, idk what to tell you he's got that shit on lock

Dorn - Relationships, like everything else, take time to build.

Ferrus - he has no idea how children are supposed to act, this is probably normal.

Annoyed

Lion - He's not good with emotions, and worse with people. He has no idea what he did wrong, what could be wrong, and maybe he's even a little hurt. All that is getting processed into frustration.

Perturabo - What to say here? His reaction would range from disgust that his kid isn't immediately “Iron Within" - ing to guilt he doesn't know what to do with so he's a dick about it.

Relieved

Angron - Good....good. It's smart that they fear him. It's safer that they stay away.

Easiest fix

Magnus - Bro has had a psychic link with his child since before they were born, and time and distance can't change that. There is only a moment of hesitation before his child is in his arms.

Alpharius/Omegon - Oh he never left. Nope, always been there. You heard they were away on the other side of the galaxy? Weeeeird, must be a mistake because he was learning to grill and tell shitty puns.

Hazard

Konrad - Someone is dying. Konrad Curze is possibly the most mentally fucked in the imperium, but this is my headcanon, and I say he wanted to be a dad. Maybe the Night Haunter is happy he's inspiring fear in the moment, but later Konrad will be tearing the ship up in fits of rage.

Lupercal

Horus - This might kick off a reform, if not an inner conflict he's actually responsible for. To be fair, he's probably going to keep his head about it and actually manage to do some good, but one look at his child shaking in his presence and he's pissed. Mostly at himself, some at the state of the galaxy. It pains him that his child dosen't know him.

I think he's the only one that tries to go to the Emperor to explain, in detail, how family is a reminder of humanity. A reminder of what they're fighting for. And good for morale! Please dad we need Family Leave next Crusade.

Let's be real he's the only one Emps would probably listen to, and if not - *side eyes literally 56 of books of how that would go*

Imagine our dudes with a frail little girl. A shy and sweet crybaby. The kind of kid that hides behind her mother's skirts when strangers show up. Who is more likely to make her cry often? What would their relationship be like with their baby girl?

Awww 🥺 sensitive daughter and primarchssss

Guilliman, Leman, Fulgrim, Sanguinius, Ferrus, Magnus, and Horus would be gentle and sweet I think, apologizing if they made her sad, would be very protective of her, the normal sweet dad flavor regardless of their kid I think

Perturabo would make her cry all the time and not know why but would feel bad in his way, and try to make it up to her by building her little gifts. Also would destroy anyone ELSE who upsets her. Which is a lot of people. And makes her more upset and him more confused.

Corvus, Dorn and Mortarion wouldn't know how to handle her and maybe be a little distant, but walk on eggshells trying to not upset her (and she'd love them for it, they'd just be terrified lol)

Vulkan would be number one dad. She's a daddy's girl and he is obsessed. He would be crushed when she was sad but always know how to cheer her up. They are best friends. He also cries at the sad holo-vid dramas. They eat icecream and talk about their feelings when she gets upset. Best dad for this.

I've kinda always HC'd Khan as being an absentee parent lmao, like shows up randomly like ah yes, you have grown. You're... what, 12? Oh, 17? Huh. Well. Good catching up. And thus would be the reason she's upset and fragile 😭 Alpharius/ Omegon basically the same but just are in her house occasionally. And know everything about her.

Angron would be gruff but protective, somehow not being the one to upset her ever because he'd be afraid of losing his temper so he'd be quiet and serious but also love being around her. Constant terrifying companion scaring off would be bullies lol.

Lorgar would be obsessed. He would spiral if he made her cry. He would try and control her life so no one could upset her. He would coddle her and put her in a metaphorical (hopefully) guilded cage. She would NOT be ready for real life and if he can help it never would have to be. Spirited away baby energy.

Lion would be awful and make her cry all the time, then get upset when she did and not understand he is the problem. He'd be the classic "I don't know how to handle this so I won't". He would not be a good dad about it lol, not mean but very much distant and exasperated. He would not handle her as a teenager well AT ALL. She WILL have Daddy Issues (tm). They don't hate each other but never click. He would kill someone for her if she ever asked. His only response to someone else making her cry is in fact "do you want me to kill them".

Curze............ hopefully he forgets he had a kid. Or he's going to be her biggest nightmare 😭 thinks it's funny when she cries and scares her on purpose.

[iwantmyprizepet]

𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 ℐ𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒴𝑜𝓊 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 5/?

Summary: Something happens and then another thing and then Agatha blah blah blah Agatha Agatha Agatha.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: *Insert that lady singing surprise surprise.* Hitting y’all with a new chapter QUICK. All of you that have reached out since I’ve started posting are literal sweethearts. Much too kind and I appreciate it greatly. I hope all who read this are doing well and the rest of your week is lovely. -Mich :)

AO3 Previous Part

My Royal Tag List: @ahintofchaos @morgananyx

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Work was uncomfortable, a knot forming in my stomach right from the get. 

The weekend was here and while I wasn’t sure I’d definitely see her today, something in me knew I would. 

A cold shower before work was how I handled the dream. I could not bring myself to take care of it the way I wanted to. It felt entirely too wrong to fill that need.

The dream had me feeling like a spotlight was on me all day. Like everyone could see right through my skull and absorb every thought.

Chloe had asked me several times through out the day if I was feeling okay. Letting me know if I needed to go lay down, she’d fully cover me. I brushed her off each time just saying I had a little headache. 

It took a lot of convincing for her to leave early when business slowed. I knew that if Agatha did show up, I could not deal with it if Chloe stuck around.

I found myself pacing the kitchen when I had the building to myself. Each time the bell above the door rung I nearly jumped out of my skin. 

I almost didn’t expect to see her face through the kitchen window at the fourth chime of the bell. 

With a deep long breath I steadied myself and pushed through the kitchen door. 

“Hey.” I forced out through already warm cheeks.

“Hello, darling.” It dragged out of her playfully.

Jesus fucking christ.

“How was the work trip?” I asked fidgeting with the fabric of my jeans on the side of my leg. 

She let out a long sigh as she sat on the stool directly across from me.

That’s it, I simply wasn’t going to survive this encounter.

“Dreadfully dull, full of half wits that think they know everything.” Her eyes rolled.  “Plot twist, they know nothing.”

I let out a distracted breathy laugh, the gold chain around her neck holding my attention as she spoke.

“Can I uhm.” I trailed off forcing my head down pretending to fiddle with something behind the counter. “Can I get you anything?” 

She didn’t respond until I looked back up to her waiting blue eyes. “Can I be honest?” She leaned forward as she asked it. 

I nodded hanging on every syllable she uttered.

“I actually just came here to see you.” She whispered it like it was an extremely well kept secret. 

I could only imagine what the dumbstruck smile that took over my face looked like. 

Against my better judgment I walked around the counter over to her. Agatha’s hands gripped the bottom of her sweater to straighten it out as I approached.

It felt like a cruel joke the universe was playing on me. A guilty anguish washed over me. Images of the dream tossed around my head, a creeping anxiety following every single one.

“Everything okay?”

I hadn’t realize I stopped midway, the spins in my head most likely obvious on my face. 

“Oh, yeah.” I moved forward sitting on the stool next to her as casually as I could. “I’ve just had a bit of stubborn headache all day.” 

It wasn’t necessarily a lie, my racing thoughts were in fact making my head ache.

Her eyebrows pulled in as her hand reached for my arm on the counter.

“Well, that’s no good.” She said brushing her thumb on my forearm that she was now holding.

Again, I found myself wanting to fall into her. Despite every bit of anxiety I had about seeing her today, her presence seemed to settle all of it. The dream still nagged in a corner of my head, but it felt easier now, like it was okay. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing a good nights rest won’t fix.” I replied daring my pinky to push into her arm. 

She had to feel the magnetized pull between us, she just had to. 

The door opening felt like a crack of thunder. 

With a short sigh I stood. “Hi, how are you today?” 

The customer chose to ignore my question, finding his phone more important.

I made it around to the register and he still continued to stare at his phone. Working with the public for this long, I was definitely accustomed to this behavior. 

After giving him a few seconds of grace I spoke again. “What can I get for you?”

“Americano.” He finally replied fingers tapping away on the screen.

“Sure thing.” Only a thin veil hid the annoyance on my tongue.

Half way through making his drink, he made a call. With every loud word and laugh, you could just tell he thought he was the most important man in the world.

I turned to the counter and slid his cup over. “That’ll be four dollars and eighty cents, please.”

An obnoxious laugh spilled from him again. I just slowly blinked, straight faced and waiting.

I looked over to Agatha to find a seething look directed towards him. 

Just as I was about to repeat myself he dared a look at her. It made him fumble halfway through a sentence.

“Hold on.” He said into the phone dropping his arm that held it. 

He slipped a card from his wallet.

“Tap or insert.” I said plainly as I put the amount in the system.

After it beeped through he grabbed his coffee.

“All set, have a good one.” I said with no inflection either way.

He went back to his phone without a word to me and out the door. 

Rolling my eyes I put the slip in the register. 

“Prick.” Agatha seethed out shaking her head, eyes still following him. 

I laughed and walked back to her. “You get used to it.” I said trying to ease her worries on it.

She swiveled on her stool to face me as I sat. 

“He probably wouldn’t have acted like that if he knew how close I just was to straightening his crooked nose.” She said it with calm fury. 

I laughed out loud leaning towards her. Agatha pressed her leg into mine as she joined me. My eyes shut on their own at the touch. It only lasted a second, but it felt telling. 

Maybe I should just stand and kiss her into the counter right here, right now. Just say fuck it and see what would happen. 

Instead, I leaned my head onto my fist and drank her in. 

At the mention of noses, I found myself admiring hers. Her own held a bit of a crookedness. It was perfectly her, unique. I thought how nice it would be to admire it closer. Brush my own against it.

 If only she knew what I was thinking about.

 I knew I was looking at her too softly, I just couldn’t help it. It was growing harder every second to ignore my feelings.

The way I was watching her seemed to put her off of her guard. Her face dropped hand moving to her necklace to fumble with it. If I didn’t know better and had to guess. Well, I’d guess I was making her nervous. 

Thankfully I knew better and knew that was pretty much impossible.

The next move had me questioning if I was actually drunk or high. I don’t know where the boldness was erupting from, but it was very unlike me. Everything I was doing felt out of body.

I reached my hand over to her necklace. Hooking my finger under it, I dragged it across until I reached her hand that was fiddling with it. After holding it there for a second I slowly pulled away. 

Her eyes narrowed, but not in an angry way. “I like your necklace.” I uttered out evenly as my hand fell back to my lap.

She sat silent, eyes bouncing quickly across my own. 

The annoying door chimed again. She didn’t even pay it a glance, just stayed staring at me.

I turned, stood and walked over to the man in the ups uniform. The package of new mugs I had forgotten was getting delivered today.

We exchanged pleasantries as I signed for it. I’d gotten used to him delivering ninety percent of the time. I turned with the box as he left. My smile dropped as I took in Agatha, now standing with her coat on. 

Fuck. 

“I’ve got to get going.” She said eyes looking down as she buttoned her coat.

“Oh, okay.” My heart felt like it was in my gut. “Have a nice night. Hope the headache goes away.” She looked up to me just to nod and shoot an unconvincing smile before rushing past me. 

My brain couldn’t catch up in time to respond. The door was closed behind her and she was halfway to her car when it started to hit me. 

I should have never done that, what was I thinking? 

She got in her car and I caught one last glance she gave me. I couldn’t decipher it before she drove off. 

I could feel tears welling up as I stood shellshocked looking after her, gripping the package tightly.

I broke my eyes away from the ghost of her car to look at the clock. Fifteen minutes until closing.

Hold it together. 

I carried the package behind the counter haphazardly placing it down. I counted the drawer for deposit with shaking hands. I flicked the lights off on the way to the deposit box, trying to ward off any last minute customers. 

My headache was getting worse and my cheeks felt warm. 

It felt like an eternity waiting for the clock to tick. 

When it did I rushed out the door locking it behind me. Climbing the stairs my chest was swelling in an ache. My chin wobbled as I unlocked my door. 

As soon as I got through the threshold a pathetic sob escaped me. 

How could I be so fucking stupid? Why did I insist on ignoring the fact I’d known from the start? 

My headache took a sharp turn after ten minutes of crying. The rest of the night passed with an anxious dread. 

Sleep came in random spurts and as if I was being punished, my throat started to hurt around midnight. I could feel the unmistakable sign of creeping sickness crawling up. 

The growing fatigue all day started to add up now. It wasn’t just that despicable dream making me feel off all day. 

I willed myself to sleep with NyQuil, hoping by morning it would be gone.

Morning came and I felt like shit, sounded like shit and looked like shit.

I called Chloe and she instantly noticed the hoarse twinge to my voice. She assured me her and Janice would handle the day.

I did manage to get a bit more sleep after our conversation.

I lay in bed wondering if Agatha would stop in today. 

I replayed our last interaction over and over. Deciding after hours of thinking it out, there was probably no chance she’d be in. 

Chloe brought me tea mid day, keeping her distance at the door. The look she fixed me from across the room read like she knew something had happened. There was more to my state than just being sick. 

The day passed with mindless tv barely paying attention to any of it. 

I stood up to stretch around three, walking over to the front windows. My heart leapt with a jolt as I looked down. 

There it sat, the black Maserati parked against the curb. I waited, barely breathing and it didn’t take more than ten seconds before she walked out. 

She made her way to her car with a quick step. She stopped halfway past the hood and turned to look up. I was far enough back that I knew she wouldn’t be able to see me. 

Her face seemed to hold a creasing worry. After a moment she looked back down and started back to the drivers door. 

I walked forward pressing my feverish head to the cool window, eyes closed with a sigh. 

I opened my eyes to watch her drive away, only to find her still outside of her car looking back up. I froze on the spot. The lines between her forehead seemed to have deepened further. 

She probably couldn’t see me. It was so dark in my house that she didn’t. I convinced myself of this over and over. 

With a shake of her head she got in her car and pulled away. I stood face against the glass  until a chill brought me back to the couch and under a blanket. 

I tried wishing her out of my mind. Pleading to the unknown to just let me forget her. If she disappeared and I never saw her again, I could deal with that.

There wasn’t much time before closing now. Ten minutes after it was, Chloe’s name popped up on my screen with a call. “Hey.” I said answering clearing a cough from my voice. “How’d it go today?” “Fine, It wasn’t too bad today. How’re you feeling, bub?”

I heard her directional click on, the sound of quiet traffic coming through the bluetooth connection.

“I’m alright, sure I’ll be good to go on Tuesday.”

The wheel turned, the signal clicking off as she straightened the wheel. 

“Agatha was in today.” For once her tone didn’t seem to be teasing on the topic. 

“Yeah, I saw her car pull off.” I replied with a nonchalance.

“Oh, so you must have seen her longing stare up then?”

Yeah and there it was, the teasing. I stayed silent lost for what to say.

“She was looking for you. Seemed quite upset when I told her where you were.”

I wondered then if she thought Chloe was lying. If she thought I was feigning sick to avoid her. 

Again, I didn’t respond too overwhelmed and tired. 

“Hey.” Chloe said gently. “I’m not trying to mess with you, really.” “I know Chlo, I’m just tired.”

A sigh released from her, turn signal sounding again. “I’ll let you go, let me know if you need anything okay?”

“Of course, thanks again for covering.” I let out a cough slipping down further into the couch. 

“Anytime.” Another long pause, I thought she’d hung up. “I’m here for everything always ya know.”

It was my turn to sigh, nodding as if she could see me. “I know Chlo, I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” I wasn’t meaning to be so dismissive but I couldn’t handle it right now.

After hanging up, I was flicking through streaming services finding something to watch. Nothing was peaking my interest so I decided on a millionth rerun of Gilmore Girls. 

The first episode was just finishing when the doorbell rang. I froze for a second wondering who it could possibly be. 

Rising I made my way over to the door. I caught a glimpse of a bright white van pulling off in front. 

I reached on my tiptoes to look out the small window at the top of my door. Nobody was there, but something lay on the steps.

I opened the door flinching at the cold. I was back in a chilly phase of sickness. 

A white to go bag is what it turned out to be. 

I smiled figuring Chloe and Brooks must have sent me something. I pushed open the screen door and picked it up bringing it in quickly to close off the freezing temperature. 

Placing it on the kitchen counter, I grabbed the slip on top. 

Stapled on top of the receipt was a hand written note.

‘Feel better - A.H. xo’

It was unmistakably in her handwriting. I’d admired the note she’d left with Chloe enough to know. I read it over and over, frozen to the spot. 

I peeped the receipt trying to place the restaurant. I think it was on Thames street by the park. I’d never been there before, seeming a bit too fancy for my taste.

I opened the bag and found two different soups in containers and a side of fresh bread.

I traced my finger along the writing. My chest swelled with every swirling letter.

I wished she was here, that she’d delivered it. I wished I could curl into her on the couch. Have her fingers scratch through my hair and ease away the cold I had. 

I felt fixated on the end of the note, xo. Why would she add that at the end? Why not just leave it at her initials and move on? 

If anything this gave me hope that I hadn’t fucked up everything when I tugged that damn necklace. 

I don’t know how much time passed with me staring at the note, drowning in want. 

Eventually I did examine the soup. One was chicken noodle the other an Italian wedding soup. I settled on the chicken noodle with a piece of bread. 

It was the best soup I’d ever had apart from my grandma’s.

Shortly after eating I took a hot shower. It felt good against my body aches and cleared my stuffy nose, even if just for a brief amount of time. 

I put away the now cool soup and downed some nighttime medicine. 

With a final look at the note on the counter, I made my way to bed. 

I lay staring at the ceiling thinking what I was gonna say to her when I saw her again. If only I had her number. Why had I never asked for it? Oh right, cause I would absolutely never do that.

The medicine started to kick in, eyes growing heavy drifting me to sleep.

——————————————————————————

I slept on and off all through Monday. The soup Agatha sent me ended up being an actual god sent. 

Chloe, with effort forced me to admit I couldn’t work Tuesday. Although I was feeling better Monday night, I didn’t want to risk getting anyone sick. The idea of still feeling unwell and having to see Agatha sealed the deal for me throwing in the towel. 

Tuesday night, Chloe rang me on her way home after closing. She informed me that Agatha hadn’t been in, but a suspiciously familiar black car drove up and down the street a couple of times. 

I took it with a grain of salt. 

I still hadn’t told her about the soup delivery. Unsure as to why, but I wanted to keep it to my chest for now. I also still hadn’t told her of the necklace debacle either.

I assured her I’d be in tomorrow. I felt miles better. My nose still dripped and a cough lingered from it, but I felt nearly normal. 

I needed to see her and talk to her. 

I turned in early to get a good nights rest, taking a gummy before hand to aid me to sleep having grown sick of cold medicine.

I wished in my head until I fell asleep, please come in tomorrow.

——————————————————————————

It felt nice to wake up and not have to rush to blow my nose. I got down early to get my bearings. 

My first sip of coffee in days was heavenly. Although I did love a cup of tea, I craved coffee whenever I didn’t have it for a couple of days.

Before it was time to open, I found myself back upstairs. I was fixating much too hard on how I looked. I changed my outfit three times this morning and found myself debating it again. 

I convinced myself back down the stairs after five minutes. It really didn’t matter how many times I changed. I’d still feel bland next to that damn woman.

Chloe hugged me when she got in, declaring that she couldn’t go that long without seeing me again. I rolled my eyes at her dramatics, but I missed her too and she knew it.

Luckily the day was calm. I sent Chloe and Janice home around one. I’d felt guilty leaving them to everything for two whole days. They fought me on it at first, but eventually gave in. 

If I saw her at all, I was expecting her at the usual hour before closing. 

Of course, Agatha always seemed to have me on my toes not knowing what to expect. So when she pulled up at two, there wasn’t much shock that came with it. 

She walked up to the door with a hesitation. As soon as she walked in we both said hi over each other. 

We laughed, settling an ease over the clear tension that seemed to build up over the past few days.

“Coffee?” I asked, voice still holding a roughness from days of coughing.

She shook her head and sat down on a stool. I made my over to her just above a steady pace. 

I sat down and we both turned to face the other.

She was absolutely stunning as usual today. The type of beauty to drive a person mad, and it did. 

She didn’t dawn one of her usual coats, a heavy sweater was all she had on. It hung a little big on her, sleeves stopping just past the center of her palm. For the first time she had on a pair of jeans. Although more casual than her usual dress pant, they still held a regality. 

I realized my trailing and forced my eyes up. I could swear I’d caught her doing the same.

“How are you feeling?” She asked gently breaking the silence.

“Much better, just a little hoarse still and tired.” I lulled my head back. “So fucking tired.” I dragged it out with a laugh before looking back to her. Her face was contorted in a way I couldn’t read. It quickly changed back to a soft smile. 

“Hey, uhm.” My right hand went to reach out for her. I stopped it retracting, hoping she didn’t notice. “Thank you so much for the soup, you have no idea how helpful that was. You did not have to do that at all.”

Her fingers tapped and flexed together incessantly in her lap. “It was nothing, I’m glad it helped.”

There was a strain in the conversation. Like both of us were holding back somewhere. 

“It was very much so, something.” I stated knocking her knee with my own. 

“What are you doing Friday night?” She blurted it out in a rush catching me off guard.

My mouth open and closed twice looking for words. “Nothing, I don’t think.” I held her eyes. “Why?”

It took a few seconds, but she finally responded. Fingers playing with her necklace. The same necklace I’d traced days ago.

“I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink with me Friday?” She left it to hang in the air a second before speaking again. “Just a casual drink, I just thought it would be nice. Two friends grabbing drinks.”

My heart dropped at the last of her words. I had to fight the urge to squeeze my eyes shut. I wanted to say no. 

What if I didn’t have the right clothes for where she wanted to go? What if there was some ulterior motive behind it? I squashed every racing thought as best and quick as I could. 

Against everything my head was screaming, I decided.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” I replied gulping down the lump in my throat that formed at the word friends.

She’s just a friend I reminded myself, nothing to even worry about. I go out for drinks with Chloe and Brooks all the time.

My answer seemed to release her shoulders from a tension. I ignored it.

“I’d love nothing more than to keep you company, but I do have to run.” She said scrunching her nose and standing. “I’ve meetings all day tomorrow as well so, until Friday.”

I nodded. “Friday.” 

I followed her like a lost dog to the door. 

She turned sharply causing me to almost bump into her. My hand popped up at the halt bouncing off her hip. I retracted it like I’d touched a hot stove. 

Her eyes narrowed eyeing me up and down. If it wasn’t for a smirk, I’d think she was pissed. 

She inched closer, even though there was barely any room to spare, and placed a hand to my shoulder.

“I’ll pick you up at eight?” I nodded at her in a trance. Her hand slid down and she squeezed my arm before moving to push out the door. 

“Just wear something casual.” She said over her shoulder, then left in a sweep.

As if she knew I needed to hear it, like she knew I would be worried about it.

The rest of the day stretched on like cold molasses. I brought my laptop down to watch tv. Even with that I’d catch myself either pacing or bouncing my knee up and down, spacing out into nothing. 

When closing hit I felt ready to burst. I didn’t even wait until I got up the stairs before calling Chloe.

It rang just twice before she picked up. “Hey, what’s up?” She answered happily.

“Chlo.” I paused trying to reel in my panicky voice. It was no use. “Can you come over, please?” I rushed it out as I opened my door. Chloe held no hesitation for her response.

“Leaving now.” I heard Brooks in the background asking what was wrong.

“Okay.” I hung up and tossed my phone on the couch. 

For the millionth time today I found myself pacing, hand against my jeans pulling the fabric repeatedly.

True to her word, Chloe’s car pulled up arriving in record time. I acknowledged the fact that she probably broke several laws on the way to get here so quick from her place.

She walked in pausing my repetitive motions. “What’s wrong, bub?” She asked dropping her keys on the table by the door.

I dove into her, tears instantly racking out of me. The emotional build up from the past few days screamed out all at once. 

She held me quietly until I calmed a bit. The tears stopped morphing into occasional quiet sniffles.

“Let’s go sit.” She said gently leading me to the couch. 

She kept her arm around me, my leg started to bounce again after we sat. I tried to still it but it kept happening.

“Come on, lady.” She said nudging me. “What’s wrong?”

Huffing, I rubbed my temples for a few seconds. I dropped my head to the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling. 

“Saturday?” I started shooting a quick glance to her. 

She nodded eyes filled with worry. 

“Agatha stopped in.” I cleared my throat and sat up straight, hand fiddling the fabric of the throw next to me. “Everything was fine, she didn’t even want coffee. She just said she wanted to see me. We were sitting together, close. I reached out and traced her necklace, said I liked it.” I sighed dropping my head back again. “A delivery came in, I turned back and she was up and ready to leave. She was nice about it but.” I turned to her “I know it was because of that. It was so abrupt.”

“You don’t know that.” Chloe said squeezing my shoulder.

I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. 

“No, I do. Then of course, I got sick and well, she fucking sent me soup with a hand written note.” 

I stood up, the ridiculous pacing starting again. I didn’t know if anything I was saying was even making sense, but it continued to barrel out of me. 

“Then, she shows up today and asks me out for a drink.” I stopped in front of Chloe holding my finger up for emphasis. “But made it a point to say just two friends grabbing a drink and tells me to dress casual and she’ll pick me up at eight.” 

“Hey, take a breath.” She soothed gently. I shook my head.

“I still feel so drained and she’s older than me and I have to get my Christmas tree with my parents still and I’m falling too hard for her Chlo and I feel like I’m gonna lose it a little and I had a very much not so PG dream with her several nights ago which is very not cool to do and I am so fucking scared.” 

I stopped my fast paced ramble with a long breath out. Finally I felt like I could sit still again. I didn’t look at her, but I sat right next to her.

Chloe wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me close.

“My goodness.” Chloe said gently pausing for a long moment. “Wanna know what I think?”

It took a few seconds, but I nodded into her shoulder.

“I think well, I think she might be just as scared as you.” She paused seemingly waiting for me to respond to that, she decided to continue. “I think she’s also aware of all the things you’re worried about and I think she worries too. I’m telling you though.” She nudged my head with her shoulder making me look up. “I truly think she’s falling for you right back.”

She whispered the last part smiling and punctuating each word. I let her words sink in, forehead still creased with thoughts.

“Also, I think miss dripping in confidence would drop to the fucking ground if she knew you had a not PG dream about her.” She said it wide eyed and grinning. 

“Shut the fuck up.” I said laughing falling back to her shoulder.

We laughed together, a silence following and settling after.

“I’m sorry I’ve been keeping all this from you.”

“Well, hopefully you’ve learned your lesson that it doesn’t work in your favor.” Both of us laughed again. “Go for drinks. Be confident and sure of yourself because, you’re amazing. Just be you.”

[lunarlilacmoon]

Bite me

What if Agatha wasn’t just a witch? What if her immortality ran deeper and little… bloodier. Vampire Agatha x reader where a fight leads you to a bar to cool down and jealous Agatha shows up to cause a scene.

Paring: Dark!Agatha x reader

Warnings: Dubcon, mommy kink, blood kink, rough sex, fingers, eating out (Agatha receiving), dumbification, dark themes. Sorry if I forgot any!

Also was not proof read so sorry for any misspelling!

My heels echoed on the sidewalk and I made my way downtown. I had stopped at a softer jazz bar to start the night but now that the liquor was running through my veins I craved chaos. The best place for that in town was the Pink Tavern. It was an extremely gay and extremely lively place. The best place for me to blow off some of my steam.

I was just approaching the club when my phone started ringing, looking down I saw Agatha’s face lighting up my phone. I hit ignore and handed my ID to the female bouncer who ushered me in.

The fight was stupid anyways and it wouldn’t have even resulted in me coming downtown if she wasn’t such a stubborn witch sometimes. She wants me home all the time, to quit my job and just hid away with her, and I love her really but I can’t throw an entire life away to stay cooped in a home like a pet.

I made my way to the bar and thankfully was quickly served.

“Can I get four lemon drop shots, two Vegas bombs, and a cherry liquor with some redbull please.” I smiled pulling my card out as he went to make my drinks.

It didn’t take long for all of my drinks to be placed in front of me and I handed my card off to him. I had two lemon shots gone by the time he handed my card and receipt to sign back.

“A pretty girl shouldn’t be drinking this all by herself, what’s got you so stressed.” A soft voice purred from behind me.

I turned slightly to see a tall red head peering down at me and for a moment I buffered.

“Girlfriend problems.” I slightly laughed out turning to take another shot.

“Ah I see, and she left you to drink them alone?” She teased

“She wishes, she doesn’t even know I’m here right now.” I fully laughed this time picturing Agatha’s even more pissed of face when she realizes I snuck out.

“What a proper brat.”

“Someone has to keep her on her toes.” I finished my lemon drop shot and my Vegas bombs and began nursing my final drink. I felt woozy on my seat and I smiled at the intoxication.

“Maybe I-” before she could finish a familiar voice cut her off.

“Should get the fuck away from her, yeah I think you should.” I turned now fully to see Agatha fuming behind me.

“Mm, well I guess I was wrong she does know I’m here.” I giggled out chugging my drink because I knew what was about to happen.

I was just about finished with it when I was yanked off my stool out of the club. I had no time to process the outside before I was shoved into her car that was parked on the side waiting. She got in without a word and began to drive.

“I didn’t get to finish my drink.” I pouted.

“You fucking brat! Is that really where your concern lies right now?” She didn’t looked away from the road but I could feel her anger radiating off her.

“I mean yeah I paid for it and I wanted to finish it!” I crossed my arm like a child as we sped out of town.

She simply huffed out an annoyed laugh and pressed the gas faster.

Before I knew it we were home and she had me out of the car and inside in record time.

“Fuck you and your stupid vampire speed.” I pushed against her chest trying to free myself from her grasp.

“Fuck me? Okay fine!” She hissed and shoved me onto my knees. She ripped her slack and panties off and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Fuck me then you fucking brat! Use that mouth for something good!” She shoved my face against her and I started lapping.

“God yes, be good for something you useless pathetic human. You stupid pathetic girl! You’re such a whore you’d let anyone flirt with out huh?”

“I didn’t flirt-“ Her hand collided with my cheek before she shoved my face back into her.

“I didn’t ask you to fucking speak slut! Work!” She snapped rubbing herself on my face.

“Fuck yes! Right there don’t you fucking move!” She chased her orgasm on my face and rode out the last of the waves.

She yanked me up by my hair and slammed me against the kitchen table. My back pressed into the cool surface and she moved her face directly in front of me.

“You are mine. You belong to me. Body, mind and soul. I am not asking you I am telling you. If you try to ever run I will lock you away like the pet that you are. You will never escape me, your mortal body could never!” Her voice was rough but not angry. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes mommy.” I didn’t have a chance to say anything more before her fangs were sinking into my neck at the same time her fingers sank into my cunt. She bunched my dress up and began a relentless pace on my pussy. The mix of her fangs with her fingers never failed to absolutely wreck me every time.

Her teeth always added an extra layer of pleasure pulsing through my body and the warm blood trickling down my neck while she laps at it bloodying her face never fails to have me gushing.

“Fuck! Yes mommy, thank you!” I screamed out as I felt my high approaching. “Please may I come!?” I gasped out.

“No.” She laughed at my sobbing form as she completely pulled away.

“Mommy no please, come back please.” I begged.

“Bad whores get to stay needy.” She smirked her mouth painted red.

[powerbottomblake]

i think my favorite thing abt pentiment is that no matter who you point your finger at during act 1 it'll leave you feeling hollow even if you're convinced of their culpabilibity bc ultimately they were all victims of the baron who is the system and class privilege personified

[reikomizuao3]

tell me why this happened in chapter 2 of two different fanfics of mine, lol

In Tres Oruguitas, I was originally going to have Bruno take Mirabel and Dolores out of the Encanto entirely, moving to the closest city and living a normal life without their gifts. But then--

“As I said before, Mirabel is to be the next matriarch. However, due to recent events we have to change our plan. This has been my resting place, but now it shall be your new home. There’s still magic that lingers here, I will join that magic with Casita’s magic. I’ll be bringing her here.”

Bruno’s eyes widened. “But Papa, wouldn’t that mean--?”

Pedro nodded sadly. “Alma has allowed the town to abuse my sacrifice for far too long. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t deserve it anymore. The few who do, they will find their way here, you may be sure. You have given up your home for you and your family to find happiness. Aldo gave you food, clothing and transportation. These sacrifices of loveare what have brought us here tonight.”

With that, the ground around them began to tremble as waves of magic began to wash over them. The three oruguitas stared in awe as a smaller version of Casita began to rise from the ground. Mirabel felt a warmth in her chest as the house reformed before them, and as she looked down in her hands, she gasped at the large golden butterfly that rested there.

“Hola, Mariposita.”said an unfamiliar, but comforting voice. Was that the voice of the miracle?!

“Hola, Milagro.” Mirabel said brightly, looking up at their new home. She was sad that the rest of her family would lose their home, but Abuelo said that they would find their way back to them. She wanted the rest of her family with them, so she decided to carry that hope with her. One day, they could all be happy again in the new home, away from Abuela and the greed of the town.

Then, in If You Would Listen, Isabela was originally supposed to approach Mirabel and Dolores together so they could try to figure out how to fix the cracks. But then--

“Why am I being stuck with you today?”

“We need to talk.”

Isabela walked gracefully down the cobblestone path into town, a sulking Mirabel trailing behind her, spitefully stomping the petals that trailed after her hermana mayor.

“What do we even have to talk about?”

Isabela grit her teeth and bit down her anger. "What's wrong with wanting to spend the day with my sister? We haven't talked in ages."

"Yeah, because your idea of talking to me is insulting me for existing!" Mirabel glared at the older girl.

Isabela stopped short and whipped around to face Mirabel, anger filling her head and poisoning her tongue. “Listen you little--”

“What? Are you going to call me useless? A nuisance? Wishing you’d just left me at home instead of insisting that you needed me to help you despite making it clear to everyone that you don’t want or need me? Tell me, what’s so important that La Señorita Perfecta is actually giving the time of day to her useless little sister?”

Mirabel was suddenly on the ground, holding her cheek and trying to process the pain blooming all around her face. She tasted blood, and when she looked down at her hand, confirmed that she was indeed bleeding. She looked up at Isabela, who stared back at her with a horrified, broken look on her face. Mirabel finally realized, Isabela had slapped her.

“I—I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t—you didn’t deserve—ay Díos mio, what did I do?!”

Isabela fled into the forest, leaving Mirabel lying in that same spot, mulling over what just happened. Isabela had slapped her. In all the years of arguments and ugly words thrown towards each other, they’d never hit each other. That was a line neither had been consciously willing to cross.

After what seemed like hours, Mirabel dragged her self up from the ground, brushing the dirt off her skirt and walking miserably to her mother’s food cart.

Reblog with the moment the tone shifted in your wip and pass it along:

“He’s not my dad.” My words were louder this time, clearer than I expected.

Ada went silent beside me.

The grass under my boots was muddy now. Sloshy reddish-brown muddling the vibrant greens I’d grown so accustomed to. 

We stood there a while, she hadn’t moved, shuffled or looked away from me for any of it. Something cold and uneasy roiled in my gut. Nature’s melodies turned to putrid buzz around us. I kept my eyes planted firmly on the grass for all of it. The mud started to dry and crust over the lush blades around us. It felt like seeing the greenery die under buckets of rust. The roiling inside clenched abruptly. 

Restoring those colors would’ve been easy with a little water, I didn’t feel like fetching any.

Finally, I forced my head to turn. Ada’s eyes were glassed over as she stared. Not with tears, thankfully. They held none of the usual light, not even a glint from the scorching sun. Dark shadows punctuated under her mouth and nose as well. It was impressive how angry it made her look. Briefly, I wondered if she was manipulating the shadows somehow, but I wasn't so sure she could do that. 

Her silence came like an invitation. And it stayed like an open door. The uneasiness in my gut settled and I felt my face go lax. My feet shifted and carried me away from her and across the grove. The crunching of life under me satisfied the angry torrent I felt, settling it further.

Ada finally made a sound, movement enough for me to hear over my stomping shoes. 

“What about my dad?” Contrition edged somewhere in the anger there. That wasn’t about to stop me.

“I just told you.” I spoke easily, paying her not even a glance over my shoulder.

@sskybooks @peculiar-dove @hermitcrabking

[dropespeon]

me when i'm in a no media literacy competition and my opponent is a rain world fan

[wereh0gz]

Is my discomfort with my boobs gender dysphoria, body dysmorphia, or just a general discomfort with the sensations of having a human body that comes with possible neurodivergency

[nandermoenthusiast]

oh my god i got so emotional SHUT UUUUUP

[nobodybetterlookatme]

I've never heard of emts working only at events? What's that like for you if you don't mind my asking?

Yeah, there are ambulance companies that staff certain events, but there's some event specific companies out there lmao. For me specifically, it's almost entirely college events, whether it's happening on a campus or not. It's not great, usually pretty boring, but it's better than being on an ambulance or in a hospital. We do get actual emergencies sometimes, but usually it's just getting drunk people to the tent or giving out water and bandaids lmao. Again, boring as fuck, but I chose this over working on a 911 rig, so that's on me 😔 if I'm being so real tho, other than my coworkers, the best part of the job is the food lmaoooo it's so good and all the food trucks/food booths give discounts or free food to us depending on the location and event. And there's almost always a ton of downtime, so I basically just get paid to sit there and vibe for the most part

[arionaleilani]

how tf did me facetiming someone i matched with on tinder turn into them giving me unsolicited advice about giving people your full attention after i already let them know that i recently got diagnosed as adhd and it’s hard for me to focus on just one thing/person and then them telling me that “based on my behavior” they think i’m autistic like ?? didn’t ask, we literally started messaging each other like a day ago, even if i am autistic (which wouldn’t be a bad thing if i am) when has it ever been socially acceptable to tell someone you JUST MET that you think they’ve got some kind of mental disorder/illness/disability/etc.

my friends have mentioned that i might be autistic and that’s fine bc i’ve spent a lot of time with them and they actually know me and i take their perspective of me very seriously because they’re the people who see me 100% unfiltered and have known me whenever i’ve been completely unmedicated. i trust their word.

this person from tinder, however, i have sent like maybe 20-30 messages to where we talked about nanowrimo and i was like omg it’d be so cool to meet someone who also writes, whether it’s as friends or as more, i would love that—only for our facetime call to be less than 20 minutes long and for them to try and diagnose me as autistic just because i, after ALREADY TELLING THEM that i have adhd and after them asking about meds and me telling them that i haven’t taken my adhd meds today because i didn’t have work and also i’ve taken multiple naps today which has made my head even more foggy and made it even harder than usual to focus, found it difficult to focus.

like. i wasn’t unresponsive. i wasn’t ignoring them. i was listening and i was responding, i just also was looking between my phone and my laptop screen.

which okay i understand that maybe i’m just frustrated because of the “based on your behavior” comment because an 18 minute facetime call does not give someone enough interaction time to try and fucking diagnose me as anything, and maybe this is more of a we just didn’t vibe and that’s fine, i don’t think they’re like a bad person or anything and if nothing else i’m glad the mismatched vibes were felt before deciding to meet up or anything, but also.

eighteen minutes. literally eighteen minutes and they fucking “based on your behavior i think you’re autistic” and “here’s some advice, when meeting new people you should give them your full attention”

FUCK that.

[fujouppy]

thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking some more . i think i hate my half-sister

[humanjarvis]

the world when you're with me

synopsis: you seek out sylus for comfort after realizing you were wrong about him.

tags: comfort, fluff, implied avoidant!reader learns to trust sylus, implied avoidant!reader clings to sylus, sylus takes care of reader from afar, sylus has mephisto and the twins follow reader but wbk pairing: sylus x reader, reader is mostly mc word count: 802

a/n: is this the peak of literature? no. did i need to write it after the day i had? yes. did i need to post it today? no, because i’m trying to stagger my posts more, but here we are. anyway 4k caleb pwp coming tomorrow 

For the first few weeks after you’d infiltrated the N109 Zone, you’d avoided Sylus Qin like the plague. 

After being scared out of your wits by the first version of him you'd met—the cold, unavailable criminal mastermind who’d forced you to shoot him within 5 minutes of knowing one other—you were unashamedly wary of working with him again. 

But Sylus’s intel was unrivaled. More and more often, you found yourself visiting the N109 Zone to meet with him, eventually not even bothering to book a place to stay. There was always a guest room at the Onychinus base prepped for your arrival.

As you spent more time with Sylus, he’d noticeably changed his approach to interacting with you. Rather than forcing you to resonate with him, he’d explained to you how his Evol worked, letting you aim his hands at some training dummies to test it out yourself. Instead of unceremoniously shutting you out when he was tired, he’d drag his robe-and-slippers-clad self to sit beside you on the sofa, answering your cautious questions by practically giving away all his secrets. 

His shift in attitude hadn't stopped there. Sylus had clearly been using that endearingly incorrigible crow to keep tabs on you, but for the strangest reasons. 

Whenever you had a bad day at work, some building-wide maintenance emergency would magically appear, forcing your team to cease operations for the rest of the day. He’d text you a couple hours after your early dismissal, saying he was in the city and inviting you on an evening joyride to clear your head.  

The day after you’d lugged a case of water up the stairs to your apartment, having to pause a couple times to catch your breath, you came home to see your fridge mysteriously stocked with groceries. The only traces left behind were the masked twin figures you spotted scurrying away from your window. 

When a new phone showed up at your doorstep one day—you never even told him you’d shattered your screen, you thought—you’d decided that Sylus wasn’t as bad as you’d once assumed. Not anywhere near as bad, in fact. He was thoughtful, generous, and helped you without taking credit or forcing you to ask for it. You’d never had that before.

Which is why, somehow, you find yourself standing in the doorway of his armory, studying him silently as he polishes an antique-looking gun.

When he notices you, Sylus looks up, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. “Something wrong, kitten?” he drawls, subtly checking your body for injuries. 

Mind numb from your absolutely dreadful day, you stay silent while Sylus looks at you expectantly, his hands forgetting their earlier task. 

But for the next minute, you remain hovering in the doorway. You expect him to get annoyed—you almost want him to, so you have an excuse to go back to relying only on yourself—but all you see on Sylus’s face is patience.

When you start shuffling toward him, that patience mixes with a glimmer of anticipation that he visibly tries to suppress. You need him to be calm right now—an anchor, he thinks. If he loses his composure, if he startles you with his excitement at your approach, you might bolt at any moment. 

Sometime during his inner struggle, you reach him. Meekly, you stand before his chair, briefly opening your mouth before closing it. 

“What is it, sweetie?” he asks softly. “Tell me, and we can figure it out together. I’ll personally track down whoever seems to have stolen your words from you.”

At his offer, you break, collapsing into his lap. His large, warm hands immediately encircle your waist, and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his leather and spice cologne. 

“Aw,” he coos in his baritone voice, rocking you slowly in his embrace. When he lifts your head an inch, you resist, letting out a soft whine. Gently, he guides your head back to his chest, his quickening heartbeat thumping in your ears and grounding you in the the moment. 

After several moments of silence, your deep, shuddering breaths the only interruptions, Sylus murmurs into your ear. “When I noticed you never ask for help, I was worried the world may not be treating as well as it should. You must be very tired, hmm?” he asks, rubbing his chin against your hair. 

Tightening your arms around him, you sit there for a while, his steady breaths seeming to mend a decades-long rift in your heart.

The next time Sylus tries to lift your head, you let him. He pulls your face from his neck so he can look into your eyes, hoping his gaze conveys his sincerity, before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

“You don’t need the world when you’re with me,” he promises. “I’ll treat you better than it ever could.”

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ THE DRESS CODE

Bakugou was in a bad mood.

It was stupid, really. Absolutely stupid. But he couldn’t help the scowl on his face as he approached your desk.

“Oi,” he snapped, crossing his arms. “What the hell are you wearing?”

He had taken his time this morning, making sure the maroon shirt he picked out was one he actually liked. It wasn’t over the top or anything—just a plain shirt with a white skull on the back, paired with some casual black pants.

But it was the principle of the matter. You were supposed to match. That was the whole damn point.

The UA student council had this dress code specifically to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Maroon for those who’re in a relationship, blue for those in a situationship, green for those in the “friend zone,” black for those who are admirers from afar, and the plain school uniform for those who are more inclined in their studies to even bother with romantic relationships.

Was this your way of subtly denying him as your boyfriend? It wasn’t like you two were in hiding—and it’s not like he doesn’t mention that you two are seeing each other whenever someone pesters him about it.

You looked up, eyes wide and innocent. “Huh? My uniform?”

Bakugou’s brow twitched. “Yeah, I can see that. Why?”

You blinked, clearly not understanding what he was getting to. “Because… it’s Friday?”

“Did you forget what today is?”

You stared blankly at him, confusion written all over your face.

“...Friday?”

“Valentine’s Day!” he barked, causing a few of your classmates to glance over in amusement. He jerked his thumb at his own shirt—a simple red tee with a black skull printed on the back. “Maroon’s for people who are dating. Thought we were gonna match.”

You felt as though your soul just left your body.

“Oh... oh.” Your hands flew to your mouth. “I... I didn’t know! You never told me!”

“Didn’t think I had to. It’s common sense.”

“And you don’t even like Valentine’s Day! So... I thought we weren’t doing the dress code thing...”

That was true. But still! He was adamant on making you look like the one in the wrong here.

“Well, I am,” he pouted. So subtle it could be mistaken for his signature grimace. “And I heard from Ears that you were planning on wearing maroon, you idiot.”

“I told her—I was thinking about it, though.”

Bakugou’s shoulders sagged, the irritation draining a little. “Yeah, well... I went and did it. Thought it’d be obvious we’re together if we matched. You had a shirt with a golden dragon on the back, too, right?”

Your heart fluttered, your gaze finally meeting his. He remembered. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks—Bakugou Katsuki, the loud, brash, and unapologetically stubborn hero-in-training—your boyfriend, wanted to show off your relationship. Publicly. On Valentine’s Day.

A moment in history!

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Instead, you jumped to your feet. “Wait here!”

Before he could argue, you bolted out of the classroom, leaving Bakugou standing there, baffled. He turned to find his classmates blatantly eavesdropping.

Mina’s eyes were practically sparkling. “Awww, Bakugou, you wanted to match with [Name]?”

Kaminari snickered. “Dude, that’s so cute.”

Kirishima grinned, throwing an arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. “You really have gone soft, man.”

Bakugou’s eye twitched, and he shrugged Kirishima’s arm off roughly. “Shut it, Shitty Hair. I just didn’t wanna look like an idiot wearin’ maroon by myself,” he grumbled. “And Sero’s wearing green—‘nd I don’t see anyone picking on him!”

“Cool it, man,” Sero laughed, shaking his head. “The incident still stings.”

“We salute you, brave soldier,” Kaminari replied.

Mina sighed dramatically, resting her chin on her hands. “Young love...”

His cheeks turned crimson. “Mind your own damn business!”

Before his embarrassment could escalate, you came running back, slightly out of breath, with something red clutched in your hands. You unfolded it and slipped it on—a maroon cardigan. It hugged your frame just right, with allowance to spare, the color bringing out the warm shimmer in your eyes.

You looked at him, your fingers fiddling with the buttons. “I had this in my locker. Does this work?”

Bakugou stared at you, his irritation disappearing like a factory reset process. You looked... cute. Really cute. But he wasn’t about to say that out loud. He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah... s’fine, I guess.”

Your face brightened, a smile breaking across your lips. “Really?”

He looked away, his voice gruff, though there was no heat in his reply. “Whatever.”

Their moment was interrupted by Mina’s dramatic squeal. “And they say romance is dead!”

Kaminari gave a thumbs up. “Didn’t think Bakugou could be such a romantic.”

Kirishima laughed. “Man, who knew you’d be such a softie?”

Bakugou’s eye twitched, and he spun around, his hands sparking. “One more word and I’ll kill all of you!”

His classmates laughed, not the least bit intimidated. They could see right through him—Bakugou Katsuki was completely, undeniably, head-over-heels for you.

Turning back to you, his voice softened, his anger dissipating. “C’mon, let’s go. Cafeteria had those stupid snacks you wanted.”

Your smile never wavered as you followed slightly behind him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah... Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bakugou hopes the next Valentine’s Day to come is when he can properly match with you. He won’t let you forget this time around.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[satrs]

Hands Off! Or Not?

SYNOPSIS. The forbiddenness of it all so tempting, and restraint a thing of the past. To which depraved and perverse lengths are they going for you truly?

FEAT. XAVIER. ZAYNE. RAFAYEL. SYLUS. CALEB. xfem!reader

TAGS. MDNI! NSFW/DARK CONTENT! DUB-CON! sexual intercourse. unprotected intercourse. extremely pervy guys/acts. perverse actions. making out. jacking off to you without ur knowledge. blowjob and slight roleplay in zayne's. throatfuckin. SOMNOPHILIA in Sylus. watching u shower in rafayel's. shower sex. rafayel and caleb are kinda manipulative. dIrty talk. praise. size kink. oral, panty stealing and cunn!lingus(?)in calebs. Caleb cumin on ya panties lol(nasty ho). They r js nasty and pathetic, man. PANTY SNATCHER CALEB!!!

✎ A/N; Felt cute might delete later Hihi^^ Idk what's gotten into me but M' LOVIN' IT WUHUUU! Hope y'all are doin well and enjoy! xoxo

XAVIER ♡ Snatched!

Xavier, your reliable, caring neighbor.

You just entrusted him with your keys, begging him to tend to your plants while you're out for work since he's off for the week. And he gladly agrees.

But strangely, every time you come home, your plants look more withered than the day before. When you check on them, they're not even watered.

When you confront him about it, he just mentions how he waters them early in the morning so they dry by the evening. And with his slick words, you believe him.

Then, some of your things start appearing in the strangest places. Your lip gloss on the kitchen counter, a scarf on your bed, even panties you don’t remember wearing showing up in your dirty laundry. Weird.

You brush it off, blaming yourself for your forgetful nature, going about your morning routine before heading into another exhausting day of work. Just one more day, and then you won’t have to bother poor, busy Xavier with these tasks anymore.

Xavier, your reliable, sweet, and caring neighbor, moves on instinct as he checks the time, quick to hurry to your apartment door, unlocking it with ease.

Since the day you gave him your keys, it’s been the same routine.

He slips into your apartment after you leave, scanning over your belongings—your scarf, your lip gloss, even the forbidden rose toy you think is hidden in your drawer next to the bed. Anything that carries your essence is an item he’ll examine.

His first mistake.

And once he musters the courage to go into your panty drawer, he’s doomed before he even realizes it. Snatching a pristine pair of white lace panties, he lays back on your bed, taking a deep inhale of the sheets still coated in your scent before his hand travels down to free his aching cock.

His second mistake.

Lustful eyes scan the lace in his other hand as he wraps the flimsy material around his girthy length, his grip tightening as he strokes himself, imagining it to be your tight pussy instead, his head falling back against your headboard.

If this is wrong, dirty, even perverse—then why does it feel so damn good?

He could drown in your scent, stay in your bed like this forever, take panty after panty, repeating the same process over and over again.

He continues, lost in his pleasure, not even noticing the front door opening, the approaching footsteps, or the door creaking until—

"Xavier?"

His eyes snap open, panic surging through him. Before he can explain himself, his mouth falls shut, embarrassment creeping up his face.

"M’ just—"

"Just casually jerking off with my panties, right." You stand before him, arms crossed, a raised eyebrow aimed at his vulnerable form. But your gaze drops, lingering on his cock, still hard, still wrapped in your lace. And fuck, does it look good like that.

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. "You know what? You're lucky. I could use a little stress relief."

He watches in utter disbelief as you strip off your top, bright eyes soaking in your bare breasts, your perked nipples. His breath hitches when you step closer, knee dipping onto the mattress beside his hip, lustful gaze locking onto his.

"Wanna have the real deal?" You lower yourself onto his lap, heat pressing against his still-throbbing cock. "Then take it, you perv."

You don’t have to tell him twice.

His hands fly to your hips, pulling you down, a shuddering groan ripping from his throat as your soaked cunt draaags over him so deliciously.

His fingers dig into your flesh, thumbs brushing reverently over your waist, your thighs, committing the feel of you to memory.

His third mistake — nah, this is a blessing.

"Fuck," he exhales, voice raw. "Yer' for real?"

You roll your hips, smirking when he hisses. "What do you think?" Your fingers trail up his chest, tracing trembling muscles. " You could still leave. You can help yourself, can you?"

Xavier swallows thickly, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. "N-no, wanna' stay," he murmurs, voice husky. "Wanted this forever— been waitin' for so long."

You hum, dragging your fingers along his jaw before gripping his chin. "Then show me."

"Heh, I'll show you, alright."

In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, down your sternum. His tongue flicks over your nipple, making you arch into him, gasping as he sucks it into his mouth, teeth grazing sensitive skin.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your flesh, caressing your tender skin. He pulls back just enough to watch as he drags your soaked panties down your legs, letting them drop carelessly to the floor. His eyes darken as he spreads your legs, settling between them with a predatory gleam.

"So fucking pretty," he breathes, running his fingers through your slick folds before pressing a teasing kiss to your cheek. "Ohh, wanna feel ya'— pleaseee, lemme' get nice and comfy in yer' warm pussy, angel."

A shiver runs through you at his possessive tone, your body burning with anticipation, sending an electric shock right to your aching clit. "Then stop teasing and take what’s yours, Xavier."

He groans at your words, positioning himself at your entrance before sloooowly pushing in, the stretch making you moan as he fills you inch by inch. His head falls against your shoulder, panting against your skin as he finally bottoms out.

"Warm, s-so warm," he grits out, hands gripping your hips as he pulls back before thrusting in again, setting a deep, slow pace that has you whimpering beneath him. "Wanna stay like this—inside ya'—fuckkk."

Your nails dig into his back, urging him to go faster. And he does, movements rough, desperate, as his cock spreads you open, massaging your g-spot with his viciously, throbbing tip.

The sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and curses filling the room, Xavier presses his forehead against yours, lips ghosting over your mouth, the incredible stretch causing your tongue to loll out weakly and he happily laps up your saliva, sucking on your wet muscle.

"Give it ta' me—fuckkk, all of it," he coaxes, thumb circling your clit in tight, deliberate motions, "Make a mess on me, c’mon, ya can't shy out now."

“G-gonna give it to me, yeah? Promise?” His voice is strangled, thick with lust as his thrusts grow frantic, erratic. His fingers dig into your hips, bruising, as he chases his high, grinding deep with every desperate snap of his hips.

You nod frantically, heat coiling in your stomach until it snaps, pleasure crashing over you. Your body tightens around him, and Xavier lets out a strangled groan as he follows, spilling his thick cum inside you, coating your walls in slick white as he buries his face in your neck, panting heavily.

For a moment, you both stay like that, tangled in each other, bodies slick with sweat until he pulls back just enough to look at you, a lazy smirk curling his lips.

"Oops. Forgot to water your plants today."

You huff out a laugh, pulling him down for another kiss, robbing a hiss from him as you slightly shift, cock springing to life inside you.

"Figured."

ZAYNE ♡ Doctor's Orders.

Zayne hates how much of a pervert he is.

He tells himself he should stop, that he should have some damn self-control, act like the composed professional he's supposed to be. But it’s just too tempting—especially when he catches those inviting glimpses of you during medical check-ups.

Like when he presses the stethoscope to your chest, fingers accidentally brushing over your soft skin as he pulls away. Or when you bend over, reaching for your toes for some 'spine check' he made up while he can’t help but admire the perfect curve of your ass.

He really can't help it.

It’s bad enough in his clinic, but it's so much worse when he does house calls.

You sit there so obediently, following every command, trusting him so completely. And it doesn’t help that you're dressed in ridiculously tight pajamas, your breasts practically spilling from the neckline, your thighs fully exposed, leaving little to the imagination.

Fuck. He could wreck you right here on this damned couch if he weren’t supposed to be acting professional.

"Alright, now open your mouth wide. I need to check your throat."

Lie.

You comply, lips parting in a teasing "ahhh," making a show of it just to get a rise out of him. And oh, does it work.

His grip tightens around the tongue depressor as he guides it to your tongue, watching you, trying so hard not to let his gaze meet yours because if he does—he’s done for.

But then his hand trembles, just enough to push the depressor a little deeper.

You gag. Loudly.

His cock twitches violently, and he swears he can feel a bead of pre-cum leaking into his briefs right then and there.

"M’ sorry," he mutters hastily, barely able to form words. "Feeling a bit off today. Been a long one. Can I use your restroom?"

"Of course! Are you alri—"

Before you can even finish your sentence, he's gone, practically sprinting to the bathroom.

The second the door is almost shut, he’s already fumbling with his belt, shoving his pants down and gripping his hefty cock, hissing as he wraps his fingers around the thick, aching length.

God, he’s horrible. Pathetically horrible.

He’s jacked off to the thought of you more times than he can count, but never in your home. Never with you just outside the door.

And the worst part?

He wants to get caught.

It's evident— his groans slip past his lips a little too loudly, the wet sounds of his strokes just barely muffled by the rush of running water. And he doesn’t even try to lock the door, leaving it cracked just enough—a silent invitation, a trap.

His hand moves faster, his mind spiraling into filthy thoughts, how much better would it sound if you were gagging around him instead of that damned wooden stick? If you looked up at him, lips stretched wide, cheeks hollowed, eyes teary?

"Fuck—"

His breath hitches, his body tensing—he’s about to—

"Z-Zayne? What the—!"

His eyes snap open, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose as he whips around.

And there you are. Standing in the doorway, lips parted, gaze locked onto his hand wrapped around his cock, glistening with pre-cum.

For a split second, shame claws at him, heat burning up his neck—until he sees a smirk creeping onto your lips.

"M’ sorry," he breathes, voice rough, unrepentant, "but you’re a vixen of a patient, you know that? Teasing me with your tight little outfit. You planned this, didn’t you?"

You tilt your head, playing innocent, though your eyes gleam with mischief. "Doctor... I think you’re just imagining things."

His grip on the sink tightens when you step closer, sinking to your knees before him, your breath ghosting over his swollen tip. And you giggle, giggle as you watch pre spurt out of his slit as your hand creeps up his thigh, doe-eyes locking with his.

You grasp him, a teasing flick of your tongue sending a sharp jolt through his entire body.

"Unbelievable," he huffs, fingers instantly tangling in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. "I’m not imagining things, trust me."

And then, with a firm push, he guides your mouth onto him, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as your lips wrap around his cock.

"Let's finish yer' check-up. Open wiiiiide— ya' know the drill. " His smirk deepens, hips rolling forward, forcing you to take him to your throat, the delicious gag you let out makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

His hips snap forward in a slow, deliberate thrust, dragging a needy whimper from your throat as he sinks deeper, stretching your lips around him further. His breathing is uneven now, heavy with restraint, but his control is crumbling, and you can feel it in the way his fingers flex against your scalp, the way he hurries to throw his fogged glasses of, his muscles coil under your touch.

His thrusts grow sharper, more demanding, and you take it, every inch of it, his cock sliding deep into your throat, eyes tearing.

The filthy, wet sounds of your mouth working him fill the small bathroom, along with his ragged breathing, the curses slipping past his lips as his body trembles beneath your touch.

You drag your nails up his thighs, feeling the way his muscles tense, how he shudders when you hum around him, sending vibrations straight through him. He groans your name, voice rough with need, his head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure coils tight in his gut.

And then you dare to contract that tight throat of yours, squeezing his mushroomy, rosey tip so tight, he's starting to feel dizzy now.

"Fuck, sweetheart—" His voice breaks, a low growl vibrating in his chest as his thrusts falter, his entire body seizing under your touch. His grip tightens, almost bruising, but you welcome it, relishing the way he shudders, how his knees slightly buckle.

With a final, deep thrust, he spills into your mouth, a sharp curse falling from his lips as he rides out his release with weak bucks, his fingers still tangled in your hair. His chest rises and falls in harsh, uneven breaths, his body trembling as the last waves of pleasure crash over him.

His heavy breath fills the tight space, fingers now sliding through his disheveled hair as his cloudy gaze falls to your messed up face in awe, hair tangled from his firm grip, tearing eyes examining him as you happily swallow his hot semen, cum slicked lips stretching into a big smile right after.

Your knees dig into the floor as you tilt your head to lap up a droplet of semen trapped to his tip in delight.

"So," he catches his breath before reaching for his glasses with shaky fingers, swiftly putting them on,

"Same time next week?"

RAFAYEL ♡ Steambound

Rafayel is nothing if not considerate, letting you shower at his place while your apartment complex deals with yet another plumbing disaster.

You appreciate it, really. His shower is just as extravagant as the rest of his house—sleek, modern tiles stretching from floor to ceiling, the entire bathroom almost as big as your whole damn apartment.

Steam curls into the air, thick and heavy, wrapping the room in a heated mist. Water cascades down your tired body, and you close your eyes, exhaling softly, relishing in the warmth as it soothes your muscles.

But you don’t notice the faint crack in the door, nor the tall figure standing just beyond it, or predatory eyes locked onto your naked form through the glass, tracing the curve of your back to the soft swell of your ass.

Who could blame him?

He noticed you didn’t lock the door, and as he listened to the rhythmic patter of water, felt the humid air creeping into the hallway, he told himself to just take a quick peek, just to make sure you don’t need anything. A towel, maybe. Then he’d be on his way.

Why is he even lying to himself?

He always does this—always tries to craft reasonable excuses for his own depravity.

This isn’t the first time you’ve showered at his place, and it sure as hell isn’t the first time he’s watched you.

He’s perfected the art of lingering just out of sight, watching through a barely open door, catching glimpses of your reflection in the mirror as you undress in the guest room he swears he never uses.

Or when you step out of the shower, towel wrapped snugly around your glistening body, droplets still clinging to your skin, he’s there, lurking, memorizing every inch of you, maybe even letting his hand drift lower, palming himself through his pants as he drinks in the sight, knowing that just watching won’t be enough.

So, when he's feeling extra risky, he'll sneak a peak into the shower, like right now, unbuttoned pants hanging low as he slowly strokes his aching cock to you soaping your body with his body wash, in his shower, your hands gliding along your delicate skin and he wishes, prays he could touch you like that.

You mindlessly pour the shampoo into your hair, turning just right for him to catch a glimpse of your exposed front, tits on full display. Your eyes are cautionary closed, careful not to get any of the product in your eyes.

And he's taking full advantage of that.

His head rests against the doorframe, low-hanging eyes and mouth agape as he tries to sneak a peak at your cunt, but he's just too far away.

What a shame.

Desperate to catch a glipse, he lets out a frustrated huff, maybe a little too loud, causing you to halt in your tracks, turning your head with cautiong, eyes closed covered with remnants of bubbles.

"Rafayel? Is that you?"

Your voice cuts through the thick steam, startled and unsure, and it makes his stomach clench, as his hand tightens desperately onto his bulky tip and his breath stutters. His name so sweet on your tongue—he shouldn't react like this, but he can't help but stroke his heavy cock firm in his palm, faster, stronger.

A shiver runs down his spine, his grip tightening around himself again, a quiet muffled moan slipping past his bitten lip, overwritten by the dripping noise of the water, his ears flush red. Damn it.

This wasn’t how he planned to spend his night, fisted around his cock, your scent thick in the air, soap and you making his head as cloudy as the humid air around him. But you’re here now, close enough that he swears he can feel the warmth of your body beyond the veil of condensation.

And maybe it’s reckless—no, it is reckless, but desire makes him bold. He exhales sharply, letting his hesitation crumble, and before he can overthink it, he pushes past the fogged glass and steps fully into view.

Your reaction is instant. A sharp gasp, eyes going wide as you stumble backward, water cascading down your bare shoulders. Your hands, trembling, fly up to shield yourself, though they do little to conceal the curve of your hips, the soft swell of your chest, the way droplets cling to your flushed skin.

His gaze darkens, tracing every detail greedily, hunger curling low in his stomach. His lips twitch, amusement flickering beneath the heat in his stare. That trembling attempt at modesty, those blown-out eyes staring at him like he's some kind of dangerous animal—like he’s something hazardous— God, he might cum right there.

"Mind if I join in? The shower is big enough for two, no?"

Your throat bobs as you swallow, eyes darting between his face and his tall, sculpted frame while he cautiously steps closer—dripping, bare, utterly unapologetic as he stands before you.

Everything feels so hot, from the hot steam to his body so close to yours, to the lingering feeling in the pit of your tummy. You should scream, slap, cuss him out, but,

"Y-you, you perv" , is all you can muster, your whole body tensing as your eyes linger at his straight, heavy dick maybe for a little too long.

Fuck, this is turning you on.

Rafayel watches every shift of your expression like a predator drinking in the scent of his prey.

Embarrassment and conflict, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying just how hard your heart is pounding.

But beneath it—Oh, he sees it. That flicker of something curious, enticed, even, something that makes his blood run straight to his already painfully hard, pounding length.

"I prefer the term 'enthusiast'. Plus," he's inching closer, finger reaching behind to turn off the flowing fountain of water, "I let you shower here for weeks, ya owe me, ya' know."

Droplets cling to his skin now, sliding over every defined muscle, down the sharp lines of his abs, following the ridges like they’re tracing a path meant for your eyes to follow.

You press yourself against the cool tile, heart hammering against your ribs, but you don’t look away. You can’t. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, hard, thick, aching.

And he’s not even trying to hide it.

"I don’t owe you anything," you manage, but your voice is weak, your body betraying you with every shaky inhale, every slight tremble he notices instantly.

Rafayel smirks, watching you intentively. "Oh, cutie," he drawls, rolling his shoulders as the warm water cascades over him, washing away the last remnants of restraint. "You don’t even believe that yourself."

Coral eyes trail lower, drinking in the sight of you of your glistening skin— the way some bubbles still slide down your curves, clinging to the peaks of your breasts before slipping down between your thighs.

"Look at cha'," he murmurs, thick voice drenched in lust "Fuckin' perfect."

You shift under his gaze, thighs pressing together, but it’s useless—he sees everything. He always does.

Your breath stutters, heat licking up your spine, but you shake your head, desperate to deny it. "That’s not—"

His fingers swiftly trail lower, slipping between your legs, rubbing just once over the slick, buttony clit, and you nearly collapse.

Rafayel groans, his forehead dropping against yours for a moment, his breath coming out ragged.

He hisses, other hand forming into a tight fist, holding onto his last bit of sanity — if there's even anything left. "Yer' cute cunny 's sayin' sometin' else," precise fingers glide down to tease your fluttering hole, "You sure you want me ta' stop?"

Your mind his clouded, gaze hazy, shaky hand coming up to trace down his slim waist, halting just above his pelvis.

A whimper escapes you, gasping when he grips your thigh and hikes it up around his waist, pressing you closer, his cock gifting your clit a quick, addictive kiss.

"You could’ve locked the door," he breathes against your ear, his voice dripping with amusement, sin. "You could’ve told me to fuck off the second I stepped inside. But you didn’t."

His lips graze your throat, nipping at the delicate skin, making you squirm.

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" he growls, rolling his hips, letting the thick length of him drag against your slick folds, teasing, taunting. "You wanted me to come in and give this pussy some proper lovin' hm?"

A broken moan spills from your lips, nails digging into his shoulders, but he only grins, reveling in your unraveling.

"Say it," he demands, voice laced with need and desire. "Tell me you want this — want me, and I'll treat this needy cunny sooo good."

His digits find your clit again, circling it lazily, his teasing touch making your legs shake.

"Tell me," he repeats, pressing the head of his cock right against your entrance, barely pushing in, just enough to make you feel the stretch, make you crave for more.

Your head falls back against the tile, lips parted, body trembling, and as the words spill from you in a breathless whimper— he loses it.

Groaning, his patience snaps as he slams his mouth over yours, tongue plunging deep, stealing the last bit of your resistance. And before you can even register it he’s inside you, stretching your walls so meanly agape, your breath halts in your lungs.

"Ohhh, baby" he growls against your lips as he fully bottoms out inside you. "Finally— fuckkkk, finally. Was so tired of js' watchin' ya'."

You can feel him everywhere— his tongue tangling with yours, desperate claws on your thigh and hips, his selfish cock spreading you so lewdly, so meanly, you almost don't notice the bulge in your tummy— almost.

"Goddd, g-gonna be the death of me, cutie", his words come out in a quiet whisper as his eyes fall down to his cock marking a visible spot on your tummy, bullying his way into your cervix.

He picks up a quicker pace, deep thrust jolting you further up the cold tiles.

And each appearance of his cock against your belly, each little sound he swallows from your bitten lips make his balls tighten, threatening to pump his load deep into you.

"Ya' feel even better than I imagined. So greedy, suckin' me in so damn deep."

And he has imagined. So many times.

But now? Now he doesn’t have to anymore.

SYLUS ♡ Home Sweet Home!

Sylus always had a calculated mind, being two steps ahead of everyone around him- even you.

So once in a while when you're sleeping over at his place, he takes the sleeping-gap you both have to his advantage. Well, more often than he'd like to admit.

This has become quite the routine once you come over, he'll spend time with you, then leave for so called buissnes late at night. Sure,, he had a lot to do as the Leader of a criminal organization but sometimes? he just drove off around the corner of his home, waiting, preying.

He's purposely come home later than usual, sitting in his car as he watches you in his room through Mephisto, getting ready for bed.

He's waiting, watching intensly with his leg tapping the floor of his car as he watches you get into the bed with a defeaded sigh, the long wait of waiting for Sylus return now overwritten by the need to sleep.

So once he notices the lights turning off, your regular breathing indicating that you're far off into the dreamland now.

That's when he strikes.

The door creaks open, closing with a soft click! as Sylus steps into the dimly lit apartment.

You're sprawled out on his bed, breathing softly, body tangled in the blood-red sheets, wearing only his shirt, the fabric barely clings to your body, slipping off one delicate shoulder, the hem riding up just enough to tease a slight view of your panties.

His pupils blow in excitement, silver eyebrows raising in amusement.

"Would you look at that," he muses, voice thick with something sinful.

The bed dips as he climbs in, tugging the blanket you curled yourself into to crawl inside it, your warm, resting body spurting excitement right to his cock,

He watches you sleep, listening to the soft sounds of your breathing while palming himself through his pants. He never touched you —he would never—but God, the temptation burned.

And once he hears your sleeping form mutter a silent moan, he tenses.

What could you possibly be dreaming of?

He fights internally, fingers twitching, itching to touch you.

His suspicions solidified once a short gasp spilled from your lips, your thighs clenching under the sheets as you shamelessly moan his name in your sleep.

He pushes the blanket aside, exposing your flushed form with eyes scrunched together, thighs twitching as your hips rock against nothing.

"S-Sylus. Need you."

God, he can't help himself.

You said it yourself, you need him. So you wouldn't mind if he gives you just what you're craving for, right?

The bed dips as he climbs over you, one knee pressing between your legs. His fingers ghost along your exposed thigh, pushing the fabric up further, revealing more of the soft skin beneath, careful not to stir you from your peaceful slumber.

Sylus exhales slowly, forcing himself to move with precision and restraint. His touch is featherlight, tracing the delicate curve of your thigh, reveling in the way your skin shivers under his fingertips.

You're so warm, so soft—his perfect little prize wrapped up in his sheets, whispering his name like a prayer even in sleep.

His cock strains against his slacks, aching, desperate. But he won't rush. No, he intends to savor this. Thoroughly.

Carefully, he brushes his knuckles along the inside of your thigh, eyes locked onto your face, watching for any sign of wakefulness. But you only sigh, legs parting slightly in response as if inviting him closer.

With painstaking patience, he lets his fingers skim the edge of your panties, tracing the damp fabric stretched over your core. The moment he feels the warmth, the wetness gathered there, a deep, shuddering breath escapes him.

Fuck.

You're dreaming of him.

He palms himself through his trousers again, exhaling sharply at the realization. His perfect girl, all worked up because of him, soaking through her panties in the middle of the night, writhing against the sheets, lost in whatever sinful fantasy has her gasping his name.

It's almost too much to bear.

You shift in your sleep, a tiny sigh leaving your lips as goosebumps leave a trail on your skin from the remnant of his delightful touches.

"I'm home, honey." he hums, teasing.

His large hands slide beneath your shirt with a rough, determined purpose, fingers splaying wide as if he means to carve the shape of you into his memory. His palms are calloused, a stark contrast to the softness of your skin, and the way he grips your waist—firm, unyielding, and he wonders how you've not even woken up yet despite his desperate claws.

Breath stuttering, low and ragged, followed by a guttural groan that rumbles deep in his chest as he feels the heat of your bare flesh beneath his hands like it’s driving him out of his mind.

Leaning in without hesitation, mouth finding your exposed shoulder, lips dragging with tenderness. He doesn’t kiss so much as claim, lingering long enough for his teeth to graze the sensitive skin before moving lower.

He trails downward, tasting every inch like he’s memorizing the way you shudder beneath him.

His grip tightens, possessive, almost bruising, pulling you flush against him until there’s no space left to breathe, to think—only the pounding of your heartbeat against his and the searing heat coiled between you. His mouth finds the hollow of your throat, tongue flicking out, slow and hot, before his teeth scrape lightly, dangerously, earning a desperate sound from deep within you.

“Wakey, wakeyyy,” he hums against your skin, voice wrecked, with a teasing undertone. His hands slide higher now, beneath fabric and hesitation alike, and everywhere he touches feels like it’s burning, unraveling you thread by thread.

"Were you waiting for me like this, baby?" he hums between open-mouthed kisses, voice like warm honey, " all soft and ready for me?"

A pleased sound rumbles from his chest as you sigh in response, your body instinctively shifting closer to his heat. He watches the slow rise and fall of your breath, the way your lashes flutter ever so slightly, the unconscious parting of your lips so inviting.

His hands spread your further thighs apart, a pleased groan escaping his throat as he comes face to face with your dampened panties, outline of your needy cunt plastered so firmly, he can't look anywhere but.

He doesn't shy away, his hunger mounting as he palms himself through his slacks, the thick outline of his arousal pressing insistently against the fabric.

"Beautiful," he breathes, grinding his freed cock against you, hanging firm above his lazily undone pants, pre staining your panties even more, the wet spot now bleeding further into the cotton material. He watches with rapt fascination as your body reacts instinctively—your thighs twitch, a soft whimper escapes your lips, your hips lift ever so slightly, longing for more.

His cock twitches at the sight.

"Mmm, that's my good girl," he praises, slipping his hands beneath your thighs, hoisting you up just enough to slide your panties to the side before aligning his pulsating crown on your clenching hole.

Sylus pushes in slowly, letting out a long, deep groan as your warmth stretches around him. The feeling of your needy cunny—hot, tight, wet—makes his head spin.

"S-Sylus?! When did you—hngggh!"

Ah, you're awake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed over with sleep, a dazed confusion mixed with pleasure contorting your features as you register the delicious stretch filling you up.

"M' sorry, sweetheart," he hisses, pressing his forehead against yours, his voice strained with restraint. "Couldn't help myself."

Your hands scramble to grip his strong shoulders, your nails biting into the firm muscle, legs lazily wrapping around his waist, still heavy from sleep, pulling him deeper. The sensation sends him reeling, and he rolls his hips forward, sinking further until he’s buried his pulsating cock to the hilt, brushing against your cervix ridiculously fast.

"Nghhh! M-more."

He chuckles, breathless and cocky. "Mm, patience, baby. I always give you what you want, no?"

His thrusts start slow, deep, and deliberate, dragging against your sensitive walls. He watches you, utterly enthralled, drinking in the way your lips part, how your nails dig into his skin, how your body shudders beneath him.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs against your lips, voice filled with pure adoration. "Always—such a perfect girl for me."

"B-been waitin' for you for so long,", your breath comes in short, shaky gasps, your body still adjusting to the overwhelming fullness. But Sylus doesn’t stop—he won’t stop. He needs this. He needs you.

"My sweet, poor darling. But I'm here now, and 'm not leaving anytime soon."

His pace picks up, hips slamming into you harder, deeper, hitting that mawkish spot that has your toes curling, your moans turning breathless.

"Yeahhh," he growls, his grip on your thighs tightening. "You see? Told you I—hahh— always take care of you, hm?"

You can’t speak—you can only whimper, nodding frantically, back arching as pleasure crashes through you. Every thrust drags against that spot, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, the heat pooling in your belly threatening to snap.

"Words, baby," he demands, grinning against your cheek. "Tell me."

"T-taking so much care for me! A-always fuckin' me sooooo good—!"

His groan is primal, his thrusts turning erratic. His lips are on yours in an instant, swallowing your moans in a messy, desperate kiss. His hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your aching clit, rubbing fast, ruthless circles over the swollen bud.

Your body snaps.

Pleasure explodes through you, hard, hot and overwhelming, your walls clenching down around him like a vice. Your legs tighten around his waist, back arching off the bed as wave after wave crashes over you, your voice breaking on a strangled cry of his name.

"Fuck—fuck, sweetie," he groans, his rhythm stuttering. Your tight, convulsing heat sends him over the edge with you, his breath hitching, hips twitching as he buries himself as deep as he can go, spilling his hot spurts of cum inside you with a strangled, guttural grunt.

For a moment, he stays there, buried deep, catching his breath, his body trembling against yours. Then, a lazy smirk pulls at his lips.

"Gorgeous fuckin' mess," he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss against your jaw

You let out a soft, contented whimper, your body still trembling beneath him.

And by the determined glee in his eyes, you know he's not done playing with his prey yet.

CALEB ♡ No Shame!(What for?)

Your breath stalls in your chest, heart hammering against your ribs as your mind scrambles to make sense of what’s in front of you.

Panties. Your panties.

The delicate lace, once delicate, is now stuck together in places, soaked through with his cum. The sheer amount of it—thick, messy, so obviously fresh—makes your stomach tighten, not with disgust or fear, but something different.

Your fingers tremble as you hold the fabric aloft, staring, your pulse roaring in your ears.

This isn’t possible. It can’t be.

Sweet, wholesome Caleb—the one who always looked after you, who laughed at your dumb jokes, who ruffled your hair like an annoying big brother—there’s just no way. He couldn’t possibly be this perverse. He couldn’t have been stealing your underwear, jerking off into them like some depraved animal, desperate to soak them in his filth.

Right?

This was just supposed to be a quick peek into his room for any of his dirty laundry while he's showering to throw it into the machine alongside yours. Well alright, maybe you also wanted to check for your favorite missing pair of panties, just to be sure.

And there they are, the proof right here, warm and glistening between your fingers.

You’re so stunned, so utterly paralyzed by its sheer indecency that you don’t even hear the dropping water halting, the bathroom door open. Don’t even sense the presence behind you—not until you hear that soft, unmistakable click!

Your entire body jolts as realization slams into you.

You turn too fast, nearly stumbling, your breath lodged in your throat as your gaze collides with his.

He's bare-chested, still dripping from the shower, skin gleaming under the soft bedroom light, droplets of water trailing down his defined abs before disappearing beneath the loosely tucked edge of his towel, blocking the door, leaving no escape.

You’re trapped.

And the way he’s looking at you, amused, dark-eyed, and slow-smirking— so damn shameless, makes your stomach tighten in the worst possible way.

"Snooping around my room? That’s so unlike you, pips'."

His voice is smooth, unbothered, as if he isn’t standing there half-naked, as if he doesn’t see the ruined panties clutched in your trembling grasp.

His gaze flicks downward to your hand, to the lace still sticking to your fingers with his spent desire, to be exact.

Heat scorches through you. A sick, embarrassed thrill coils in your gut, because oh god—you’re still holding it.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through other people’s things?"

You drop the panties like they burn, but it’s too late.

He knows you’ve seen them, knows you’ve realized what he’s done, knows you’re still standing here, trapped in his room.

"You weren’t supposed to find those, y’know," he muses, taking another step closer. The damp heat radiating off his skin encloses you, his fresh and clean scent washing over you, making your legs go weak.

Your breath shudders unable to do anything but watch him come closer and closer, the towel on his hips hanging dangerously low.

"What’s wrong?" he hums, tilting his head, mocking innocence dripping from his voice. "Cat got your tongue? Or," he leans in, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath ghost across your cheek, "Are you just wondering how many other pairs I’ve got?"

Your pulse pounds, deafening. The way he says it so casually, so fucking bold, makes it obvious. This isn’t the first time, fuck— he’s been doing this for god knows how long.

"Caleb," you finally choke out, his name barely more than a whisper.

"Let's make a deal, sweets," he murmurs, reaching up, up, up— his fingers trace your wrist, featherlight, teasing, and playful, "I'll stop stealing them if ya' let me get a taste of the real thing. How's that sound, pips'?"

And your hesitant nod, bitten lips, and glazed eyes are all he needs as his strong hands grip your waist, twisting you around, forcing you backward.

Your back hits the mattress with a gasp, the soft give of his bed swallowing your weight. The room spins, the scent of him, clean from his shower, wrapping around you, suffocating in the most intoxicating way.

This is wrong.

He's on you, caging you in, hands moving quickly to remove your short pants from your legs, your shirt riding up in the process, panties on full display, and not to mention the prominent wet, stain riiiight at the center of where he imagines your needy cunt to be.

Oh so you want this as much as he does, huh?

His arms are braced on either side of your head, towel hanging low on his hips, barely clinging on. His damp hair drips onto your skin, cool against the fire burning beneath your flesh. His muscles flex above you, broad shoulders dwarfing you, leaving you breathless under his weight.

Who are you trying to fool?

You wanted this, hell- maybe even prayed for your panties to be in his possession, prayed for him to finally touch you, to have him between your legs like this,

And your prayers have been heard.

His knee spreads your legs without hesitation, without shame, pinning you open beneath him. And before you can even think, his head dips down, his mouth right at your thigh, his nose dragging against the heat between your legs.

"Never seen this pair before," he breathes, his voice rough, heavy with something filthy.

Your whole body locks up because god—he’s so close, pressing his face against your panties, nuzzling the damp fabric, so shamelessly, so utterly desperate, taking a big whiff of your scent, making you wail in embarrassment.

A deep, guttural, fucking shameless moan wrecks from his throat, so obscene, so needy, that you feel the heat of it pulse straight to your needy pussy.

"Fuckkk," he groans, dragging his nose up, nuzzling slow, breathing deep. "Ya' smell so damn sweet, baby."

Your hands fly to his shoulders, weakly pushing, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he presses in deeper.

"Didn't think ya' could keep ts' cute cunny hidden from me, did ya'?" he purrs, hot breath fanning against the wetness he’s indulging in, dropped gaze engulfing your expressions whole.

And then—

His tongue. Right against the fabric, mere atoms away from your bare clit, slow, deliberate kitten-licks draaaag over the damp lace, so close yet so maddeningly far, and your head snaps back against the mattress, a moan spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

His breath left him in a rough chuckle, fingers flexing as if resisting the urge to rip your lace apart right then and there.

"H-hey, no peeking!" You try to scold, your hands darting down to grasp his hand threatening to get rid of the fabric—but Caleb's faster.

Hand snapping yours away, a low growl retorts, a primal sound that sends heat licking down your spine.

He loves your panties, he really does. But right now, he just wants to fucking tear them apart.

"Baby, ohhh — babybabybaby," he groans against your hidden folds, rolling his hips once, twice against the bed, watching as your head tipped back, a sharp gasp leaving you.

"C-Caleb—"

That was all it took for him to finally lose it.

With one swift movement, a loud riiiip! echoing as he tears your panties from you, exposing your aching pussy bare before him.

He doesn't tease. Doesn't wait.

A low, primal sound resonates before he crashes headfirst into your soaked cunt. His hands take control, gripping your thighs, dragging you forward until your soaked heat is pressed firmly against his eager mouth as he bucks his hips into the bed like a desperate mess.

A sharp cry rips from your throat, legs locking around his head as he fills you with his tongue, forcing you open. Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, biting teasingly, sucking onto your clit with such a devastating grip your mind goes blank.

"Yer' fucking drenched," he groans, voice tight with restraint. "So eager for me, hmm?"

Each drag of his tongue scraping the inside of your hole, his nose repeatedly bumping into your throbbing clit sends pleasure detonating through your core, deep and merciless, making you cling to his hair with desperate fingers. The room's air is thick, humid, filled with the obscene sound of sloppy spurts of your juices coating his face, the sharp gasps, the deep grunts of a man losing himself in you— in your pussy.

His tongue presses down harder on your clit, circling in tight, devastating licks that had your thighs trembling around his head.

Every time his tongue drags over you, his hips jerk in rhythm, grinding pathetically against nothing but air and friction, chasing the sensation like a man starved.

But it’s the way he works his tongue that sends you spiraling, spelling out his name over your throbbing, swollen clit like a brand.

C-A-L-E-B-C-A-L-E-B-C-A-L-E-

Each letter feels like it’s seared into you, curling perfectly around every sensitive nerve, his mouth obscene in its devotion. There’s nothing measured about it now, nothing held back, just raw, consuming need as he devours you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity.

"H-hahhh, fuck!—" Your voice wrecked, high-pitched, barely coherent. Your nails bite into his scalp, desperate for something to anchor you as your body teetered on the edge.

Your fingers twist tightly in his hair, yanking hard enough to make his head tilt back for a moment, his groan reverberating straight through your core. The sound vibrates against you, deep and guttural, sending a sharp jolt of electricity ripping down your spine.

He doesn’t falter, if anything, the rough pull only spurs him on. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and glazed, pupils blown wide with hunger, and the sight alone nearly undoes you.

“Feels good, baby?” he rasps against your hole, his voice wrecked, teasing, but tinged with something almost desperate.

The plap, plap, plap of his hips rutting against the sheets with shameless abandon, towel long abandoned on the floor somewhere, matching the frantic curl of his tongue as he snaps his hips up, the sound of his slurping assault lewd and filthy.

"Give it ta' me, c'mon. Allll of it," Caleb mutters, vibration hot against your folds, his grip tightening, the muscles in his arms flexing as he slams you firmly, deep into the mattress, leaving no room to move.

The pleasure crested, blinding, and almost unbearable. Your whole body locked up as the first wave of your orgasm slammed into you—violent, tearing a broken, breathless scream from your lips, your tongue helplessly dangling from your open mouth, slick saliva dripping onto the sheets.

But Caleb doesn't stop.

He keeps going, arms locking around your thighs, forcing them up, up up, harshly against your stomach in a mating press, dragging out every last pulse, every aftershock, every clench of your walls around his wet muscle.

"That's it," he groans, voice ragged with need. "So fucking—shiiitt—tasty fuckin' pussy—"

Your body convulses, pleasure still rolling through you in relentless waves, too much and not enough at the same time. Your thighs shake, breath coming in ragged gasps, vision hazy as your orgasm drags on—longer, deeper, more intense than you’d ever felt before.

"Fuhh-fuck!—"

And as you come down from your soul-shattering high, arm dapped across your face to catch your breath, his hunter eyes bore into your form, hand sneaking down to snatch the destroyed piece of fabric from the valley of your ass, swiftly stuffing them under his pillow.

Bingo. Another one added to his collection.

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[paetalks]

nanami kento, very serious looking guy working in the finance department, having a little crush for the new girl who just got hired by the creative team.

you didn’t even know him, not until the christmas dinner party at the office. you were fairly new, only been working there for four months. working for a big company had not always been your goal, but when you got offered the position freshly out of college you couldn’t say no. it was well paid, in the city center, and allowed you to put your degree to use - which was a big plus, since finding a good job lately seemed to be stressful for people with an art degree (or so you were told by basically everybody).

when you first saw him, your heart skipped a bit. he looked insanely good, with his white shirt hugging a toned chest and short blonde hair falling slightly on his forehead. he was talking with your creative project manager, big hands gesturing softly while speaking and a light smile on his face. it was the first time you ever laid eyes on this beautiful man, and as soon as you realized you were staring a bit too hard, he had already made eye contact. eyebrows slightly furrowed, his eyes met yours. before you even knew, you were walking up to him.

“hi” you said, breathily. you felt your hands sweat and damned yourself mentally for behaving like a girl seeing a cute boy for the first time. up close, you realized he must have been a little older. not too much but the confidence he exuded was clearly not the one of someone in his early twenties - nothing like a guy your age. your manager looked around, confused on why you were intruding in their conversation, and eventually asked “hi, y/n. did you need something?”

you blushed immediately, looking away from the beautiful man, realizing there was no good reason to justify your sudden intrusion. you just saw a good looking man and walked up to him as if nothing else was going on. “oh…” your mouth slightly open, your mind racing to find something appropriate to say.

“i think we have not been introduced yet.” his voice was deep and you felt it in your stomach, like music at a concert. your eyes darted up to the unknown man, nodding shyly. “right. my name is nanami kento, pleased to meet you.”

you felt your insides melt while shaking his big hand, mumbling your name and smiling softly. five seconds later, you pretended like someone was calling your name from somewhere where your other colleagues were and excused yourself, quickly leaving just like you did arriving.

watching you walk away, nanami let out a soft smile, hoping the man in front of him was not going to pay much mind to it. “oh, don’t worry about y/n. she’s young, and new. she’s still trying to find her way around here, you know?” your project manager laughed awkwardly, still wondering what was all that about. kento shrugged, watching you from afar. your cheeks were red and the grip on the glass you had in your hands looked incredibly stiff.

what neither you or your protect manager knew was that nanami kento did know who you were. he had noticed you, maybe on your first or second day, when you got lost and popped up in the finance department. your colorful sweater and laptop full of stickers looked very out of place and when one of his colleagues approached you, letting you know that maybe you had walked in the wrong office, you did turn another color from embarrassment and started profoundly apologize. he thought you were cute, and funny, but the more he got a glimpse of you in the hallways, the more he noticed you wherever he were.

the break room, the coffee shop in front of the office building, the elevator. he found you in every room, even if you didn’t even know he was there. it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, like looking at you from afar was something he had grown addicted to in such a short time.

he wouldn’t have called it a crush, but whenever he needed to print something he would carefully choose the printer on the same floor your office was on - hoping that, when walking by, your door would be open and that he could catch a glimpse of you. okay, maybe thinking back, there had been a few moments in which he felt very infatuated by the idea of you…

looking at you from across the room, while zoning out on the conversation he was in, and noticing how sometimes you would look back too, he told himself that yes, that was definitely a crush.

idk i love the dynamics of stoic boyfriend x artsy girlfriend. wtv??? i’m done .