#but the allure....... of shorter hair

[carcarrot]

would a gay little mullet fix me

[adragonprinceswhore]

One Whore Is As Good As Another

Aemond x Brothel worker x (drunk) Aegon

Summary: Desperate to prove he's no mere boy, Prince Aemond leaves his taunting brother and seeks out another conquest. Momentarily, he feels back in control, until his brother reappears.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, reader is a brothel worker and has Valyrian features, targcest, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), face fuccin', P in V, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, titty slapping, humiliation, degradation, dysfunctional brothers

Word Count: 2000

A/N: I had this idea when I read the leaks for episode 3, and let's just say Aegon's awfulness worked great as inspiration. Filthy drabble ahead!

You've seen Prince Aemond's long, silver hair flash by in the corner of your eye countless times in the past weeks.

You never get the chance to observe the prince up close. He only appears fleetingly, confidently striding through the Blue Pearl towards the room where Madame Sylvie awaits him.

She seems to be his favourite; the only one allowed to touch the imposing young man. Sometimes he spends hours with her, though you are not privy to the details. All you know is that most men entering your place of employment conduct much shorter visits.

You do not envy your madame. Entertaining a Targaryen prince is no easy feat, from what you've heard.

Still, you do wonder what it would be like to catch his eye. For him to choose you, like he had chosen the madame.

Had he ever caught sight of you, like you did him? Had he ever seen the shimmer of your silver hair reflect in the corner of his eye?

Does you Valyrian heritage look as alluring as that of the statuesque prince, despite being born a bastard?

These thoughts had merely been fugitive, indulgent fantasies.

Until tonight.

Prince Aemond stands naked in the middle of the vast space in the heart of the Blue Pearl, seeing eye gazing out over the intertwined bodies moving in differing rhythms.

No one had asked for your services as of yet, and you'd therefore been tasked with refilling chalices and plates for the patrons.

The prince's gaze settles on you as you pour wine into a few cups scattered around, ensuring no one chases pleasure parched.

He walks towards you in slow, confident steps, seemingly uncaring that he is fully nude.

'Tis a brothel after all.

Placing the decanter back on the table, you curtsey as he draws near; trembling fingers fumbling with the thin material of your gown,

"Wine, your grace?"

"Do you work here?"

'Tis not the wine that caught his attention.

"Yes. How may I be of service?"

His eye scans the place, searching for a more secluded spot. He gestures towards a plush settee tucked away in a corner with a nod, prompting you to follow him there.

Walking next to the prince, you can truly admire the sharp features of his face. His hair is as fetching up close, and his skin resembles milk; so clear and smooth.

Clean.

Not fit for the filthy surroundings you'd been brought up in.

"Are you my uncle's bastard?"

His query catches you off guard,

"I-, I do not know, your grace. Mayhaps"

You could be his cousin.

Or his sister.

It matters little here; the gods had decided both of your fates when they ruled it fair he be born a prince and you a bastard to a whore in Flea Bottom.

Despite the evident uncertainty, your answer seems to please him.

Prince Aemond's hums, seeing eye narrowing and the right corner of his mouth twitching briefly, perhaps nearly breaking into a smile.

The possibility of you being his uncle's daughter excites him.

"Lay down"

You do as told, reclining on the settee. The corner the two of you occupy is fairly out of sight, yet there is no curtain hindering wandering eyes from seeing your act. It surprises you that the otherwise secretive prince would chose such an exposed place for your coupling, yet you say nothing.

The choice is his.

He inspects your form as you lie down; gaze traveling from the round softness of your breasts to the smooth skin of your inner thighs. The gown you wear leaves little hidden, and the prince's searing stare causes your heart to drum quicker in your chest.

The unpredictability of what he'll do next; of what he wants from you, causes as much unease within you as the determined look in his eye elicits.

He hums, head nodding faintly to himself, before he moves towards you, lifting one long, lean leg so he may straddle your chest.

His cock is right by your mouth, already growing larger as he gazes down at your face underneath him.

Perhaps 'tis the gaining of control that arouses the prince so; seeing you laid out for him with nothing but obedience to offer.

He feeds you his half-hard cock; not too brutish to force it all in your mouth at once. A prince still keeps his manners, you suppose.

Taking him in, you feel the skin of his member; hot and with a taste like salt. It's heavy in your mouth, and the awkward position the prince has you in does not allow you much movement.

He looks down at you; one eye stoney and unmoving, with shadows and light dancing in it. The other expressive and fierce.

Hungry.

Both his hands grab the back of the seat as he leans forward, forcing more of his cock down your throat. It prevents you from breathing, yet you do your best to appease him, sucking and swallowing him to the best of your ability.

You feel his balls slap your chin as he rocks into your mouth, pleased grunts escaping his lips.

A few more thrusts and you start to feel dizzy, not receiving enough air with the prince's manhood in your mouth and his lower belly pressed up against your nose.

You gently tap his leg and he abruptly pulls away from you, hurriedly moving off of you to stand next to the settee.

You cough as you inhale air once again, looking up at him with glassy eyes and wet lips, shining with spit.

His face is still harsh and demanding, and your gaze flickers down to his cock.

Decorated in your spit, it has grown double in size and is now red; like vexed skin after a beating.

You lay still, breathing rapidly to regain your senses. After giving you a moment to calm, Prince Aemond gestures for you to stand, and sits down on the settee.

He grabs your hips, dragging you towards his lap, and so 'tis your time to straddle him, take his cock in hand and sink down on it.

You know how to play these games. You know how to appease the men seeking your touch. Still, the moan you emit as you take in the prince is not solely performative; the stretch of his member fills you to the point of pain.

You bite your lip in a vain effort to concentrate, set on pleasing and serving your prince. Moving up and down in a slow pace, you grow wetter and more accustomed to his intrusion, and soon, your own pleasure follows.

"A-, ah, Prince Aemond", you call out, hoping the flattery will make him favour you even more. Mayhaps as much as he favours your madame.

He grunts and places his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him so he may rest his face against your scarcely clad bosom. He's enjoying you; reveling in your cunt, and it feels like the highest of praise.

You continue to call his title, his name, moving faster and harsher up and down his length, until,

"Brother!"

You catch the flash of a figure stumbling towards you in the corner of your eye, certain you know who it is before looking up;

King Aegon.

His lips are curved into a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled,

"I knew you had it in ya!"

The king ends his exclamation with a slur, clearly far too drunk to be staggering around Flea Bottom unattended.

You'd never been eye to eye with the king before; word around the street was that he found the Blue Pearl far too dull. He requires more to quench his thirst for depravity.

And yet, seeing you ride his brother's cock seems to be to his liking,

"Come on, girl, ride the dragon!", King Aegon shouts before falling into a fit of laughter. His hand smacks your arse as if you were a mare, urging you to go faster.

You search the prince's face for approval, but he's not looking at you anymore. His dark gaze is trained on his brother; still harsh and determined. You take his silence for compliance and move faster; quick breaths of exhaustion and moans of pleasure slipping out from your still wet lips.

"Making her do all the work-",

Aegon's still laughing between the words he slurs out. Standing behind you, one of his hands move to cup your left breast, and he squeezes it roughly; too drunk to appreciate tenderness,

"-I can see why"

Prince Aemond is still silent; still staring at his amused brother.

"No, no, no, this won't do", the king mumbles as he releases the harsh grip he'd had on your breast,

"Remove your gown, bastard"

Again, you seek Prince Aemond's eye for instruction, but he does not grant it. So, you grab the hem of your thin attire and pull it off over your head, exposing yourself to the Targaryen brothers.

'Tis not like you've never been naked before; you entertain most guests nude. Still, there's something about the royals' presence, their ongoing, silent battle, that leaves you feeling more exposed than ever before.

King Aegon hums in appreciation at the sight of your bare teats, the same rough hand coming up to slap the side of one of them, chuckling as they knock together.

You pick up the pace to ride your prince again, yet the king does not leave you be. His voice is still amused, though tinted with something darker, as he commands his brother,

"I want to see you fuck her like a hound, Aemond"

The prince does not reply, and your pace does not falter. You were tasked with pleasuring the prince, and if he did not reply to his brother's orders, neither would you.

Though he is your king.

"Fuck her like a hound! Come on!"

King Aegon sounds more agitated now; impatient. He does not like that his brother does not obey him instantaneously; that he would refuse an order.

The prince is as stubborn as his elder, and in between the brothers, is you;

Caught between two dragons waging a war of wills.

"Get up", Prince Aemond grits through clenched teeth.

You comply, standing swiftly only to be turned and roughly placed back on the settee on your knees.

The prince places a hand on your lower back, pushing you to arch, and enters you in one stroke, reaching far deeper than your previous position had allowed.

He quickly sets a brutal pace; fucking your squelching cunt harsh and quick.

You desperately hold on to the back of the seat, vainly searching for some control as the prince takes his pleasure from you.

Behind you, you hear his laboured breaths and grunts, and the entertained cackle of the king,

"That's more like it!"

He walks around the settee to face you; watching your body as it sways back and forward with the prince's rough thrusts.

Leaning in closely, so closely that his wine-soaked breath is right by your cheek, King Aegon inquires, "How does royal cock feel?"

You know how to play these games.

"Heavenly, your grace"

He hums and touches a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger, "Is that what your mother thought as well?"

He does not bother with waiting for an answer from you; truly, he's not interested in knowing. Instead, he circles the settee yet again to stand next to his brother, mesmerised by the sight of his cock driving in and out of you,

"Where on her will you spill?"

Prince Aemond stays silent, pace never faltering.

“Face, teats or arse?”, his brother asks, but before his stoic sibling answers, he decides for him,

"Spill on her face. You got to appreciate those, uh, familiar features"

A few more rough strokes and the prince pulls out, grabs your waist, and turns you around so that you face them both. He pushes on your shoulder in a silent order for you to get on the floor, once again with his member in your face.

With a quick hand he strokes his slick cock, seed shooting out like arrows, landing on your cheeks, in your hair, on your lips.

He's breathing heavily, yet does not say anything, nor does he moan or grunt. He simply decorates your face in pearly luminescence, matching your silver hair and lilac eyes.

When he's done, he turns, and you see his older brother lay a comradery hand on his shoulder, commending him for "a good fuck".

As the brothers walk away together, you see the tension in Prince Aemond's shoulders ease ever so slightly.

The burdens of being a royal.

A/N: If the HotD writers want Aemond to be obsessed with his uncle, I'll comply! I like to write these little drabbles as a fun way to practice writing without much pressure, so please be kind, it's all just for fun!

[pomefioredove]

May I req headcanons for diasomnia reacting to a reader who had really long hair getting it cut, like, shoulder length or shorter?

I hope you get well soon. Take care of yourself in the meantime!

this is cute I like this :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ short hair

type of post: headcanons characters: sebek, silver, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

it's not that Sebek is oblivious, it's just that you're standing next to Malleus right now, and he tends to become blinded by the sight of his two favorite people in the same room. he can still tell that something is off, but he's busy imagining how this magnificent scene would look like as a painting hung above his bed when you ask him if he's noticed anything different

"OF COURSE I HAVE! your complexion simply glows when you're next to my liege!"

then he very confidently walks away

(when he does realize, he walks all the way to your dorm at 9 PM to loudly compliment you)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Silver tends to notice little things about you all the time. even when he's not awake. the you he sees in the dreamscape is always picturesque, so he knows that you've done something different with your hair before you even see each other

of course, when you do, the first thing he says is that he likes it, it frames your face nicely, and shorter hair is better for combat because it's more difficult to grab

...very straight forward, very seriously, very Silver

if you didn't know him already, you might be freaked out, but, luckily, you know how meaningful a compliment like this is

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you just know Lilia is going to ask if he can do it next time. honestly, he's offended you didn't come to him first! he would've given the both of you the same haircut... what? no? awwww...

he gets over it fast, though he still not-so-subtly offers to bleach and dye it to match his...

do not fall asleep around this man fr

otherwise, if you'll let him, he'd enjoy playing with your hair

twirling his fingers around it, flicking it, braiding it, gently tugging it, it's just fun for him. he's weird (<3)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

okay. Malleus, the prince of not being able to handle change, is just a little upset you didn't even tell him you were going to cut it. of course, he knows it's not his place, and he can't (and also wouldn't) tell you what to do, but, to him, it's another harrowing reminder that humans have a completely different relationship with time

(he's in his philosophical era, don't worry about him. or do?)

he consults Lilia, and then broods about it, as he does

and then once he's over his melodramatic intermission, comes to really like it

really! you'd look cute in anything, of course, but there's something about this style that is really alluring to him

so pretty, he could stare at you all day!

I mean, like, more than he already does

[writtenbymoonflower]

I hope this is where requests go :)

I was hoping you could wright poly marauders x fem reader. Their at a bar/club and don’t know each other yet. Reader is dancing and someone starts to harass and or touch her inappropriately. Either the three marauders notice or she goes to them for help.

I totally understand if this is to uncomfy to wright :)

Hope your having a good day ☀️☀️☀️

thanks for requesting, hunny! I hope this is okay! fem!reader x poly!marauders

cw: sexual harassment, non-consensual manhandling

1k words

You were so clammy that if your clothes weren’t already skin-tight, they would likely be clinging to your form by now. You’d only had a few drinks, but the alcohol combined with the crowd of bodies enough to make your face flush and your hair frizz as you stood in the throes of the dance floor. Your friends had long since strayed away with their new dance partners. The bar wasn’t very crowded, members were sparse enough for groups to spread out and you were still able to spot the people you came with, looking flustered from lust and liquor. You waved when one of your friends made eye contact with you, a dizzy smile on their face before their attention was pulled back to better things.

Unfortunately, someone else had spotted your friendly expression and misinterpreted it as an invitation. You tried to look away but it was too late, the figure of an unknown man started happily (if not slightly unnervingly) striding towards you. You plastered on a polite smile as the man sidled up next to you, a little too close for comfort.

“Hey there, lassie.” He slurred, a sickening grin on his face.

“Hi. How are you doing?” You asked politely.

“Better since seein’ you.” He squeezed your shoulder a bit too hard. You wrapped your arms around your middle and inched away slightly but the man just inched with you plus some. You laughed uncomfortably.

“C’mon, birdie. Let me get you a drink.” He moved his hand to grip the meat of your arm, dragging you over to the bar counter.

“Oh- no thank you. I’m okay.” You tried to pull away but he tightened his hand.

“I insist. It might loosen you up some, eh?” He raked his eyes up and down your form, licking his lips at what he saw. You wanted to puke on the spot. You tried to pull away again.

“I’m really sorry, I’m just not in the mood. I’m just gonna go-“

“Don’t be like that, missy.” His eyebrows knotted in aggravation. “I’m gonna get you a drink.” His grip tightened again, his blunt nails digging painfully into your arm. He ignored your protests to drag you closer to the bar, ignoring the patrons you were bumping into. You muttered apologies until you made one of them drop a bottle on the ground.

“Shit! I’m so sorry.” You said, panicked. This made the man stop pulling you, but he didn’t release his hold. You looked at the people you just trampled.

You couldn’t see well in the bright lighting, but there were two men. One was quite tall and lean, with light, fluffy hair and an intense stare. There were a few marks across his face, but they only added to his strange allure. The other was a bit shorter. He was dressed to the nines, all bold clothes and heavy makeup, long dark hair pulled back to show sharp features. It was the latter one who spoke up.

“You’re grand, chick. Don’t sweat it.” He gave you an awfully kind smile that made your stomach flip. “Are you okay?” You saw him cut his eyes to where your arm was still being held, and his face hardened slightly. You noticed the taller when was staring something harsh at the man next to you.

“We’re fine.” The man said, trying to pull you away again. He didn’t get more than a step before a commanding voice stopped you both in your tracks.

“We weren’t talking to you. We were talking to her.” The light-haired boy said, leaving no room for argument. You looked awfully embarrassed at the whole situation. The shorter one spoke again.

“Are you okay, love?” He was not searching your face, brows knotted together. Something in his face made you feel safe. You didn’t say anything, hoping your face would convey everything. They both looked with solemn understanding.

“Hey lads!” A broad shouldered man with glasses and an infuriatingly gorgeous head of hair joined the group, wrapping his arms around the two other men. “What’s going on here?” His tone was jovial and friendly, but there was a slight edge when he saw the hand that was still wrapped around your arm.

“Nothing much.” The tallest boy said casually. “We were just talking to dovey here.” He cut his eyes to the man who was now loosening his grip. “That lad was just leaving.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Ah, I see.” The one with the broad shoulders said. “Need help getting to your car, mate?”

“I’m fine.” The man dropped your arm and huffed as he walked away, giving you a dirty look as he did. You slumped immediately, rubbing your sore arm.

“Thank you.” You said shamefully, looking down at your shoes. “I’m sorry about all that. I’ll just-“ you started to step away.

“Don’t be sorry, lovie.” The curly haired one said warmly. His big brown eyes were soft as butter behind his glasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The light-haired one said. “Do you wanna stay over here for a minute, just until you know he’s gone?”

“If that’s okay, I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Sweet thing like you? Feel free to intrude.” The long haired one fixed you with a salacious grin that made your insides flip, but not how the other man’s did. This feeling was pleasant. The tallest one still looked irritated, but seemingly not at you.

“Is your arm okay? He was grabbing you pretty hard.”

“It doesn’t even hurt.” You lied, and you could see him starting to protest, but he was interrupted by his friend.

“Moons! Let us get introduced before you start interrogating the poor thing.” The glasses-wearing boy faux-scolded. ‘Moons’ just rolled his eyes. The long-haired one jabbed his friend with his elbow.

“Ignore the lack of manners on our friend here. The rude one is Remus, that brute is James. And I’m Sirius.” The shorter boy leaned his head of inky hair against James’ shoulder. Remus lightly smiled at you, leaning down a little to meet your face.

“It’s nice you meet you.” You couldn’t fight the smile taking over your own face.

“Pleasure’s all ours, lovely.” James grinned. Your stomach flipped again, and you had a feeling you might stick around these three a little longer than anticipated.

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances. 

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done?  he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals. 

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you. 

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not. 

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone. 

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it��s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls. 

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down. 

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body. 

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

© httpsserene 2023

[gwens-love]

A Touch of Fate

Summary: In a quiet village, you’ve always felt the phantom touches of a soulmate a bond that usually belongs only to witches. One autumn evening, a chance encounter with a mysterious figure changes everything.

Warnings: Emotional Themes

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: a bit shorter but oh well.

~Agatha Harkness x fem!reader~

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

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Growing up in a quiet village, you often heard tales about soulmates, an unbreakable bond that connected two people in ways mere mortals could only dream of. Only witches had such connections, though. To everyone else, they were just old fables passed around for entertainment. You were ordinary, with no magic or power. Yet, ever since you were young, you’d felt soft, phantom touches on your skin a brush along your cheek, a warmth on your hand. The sensations were fleeting but left a strange longing in their wake.

As you grew older, you chalked it up to imagination, but those touches never stopped. They became a part of you, leaving you with an inexplicable feeling that somewhere out there, someone was reaching out to you. Still, you’d accepted you might never understand why.

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One crisp autumn evening, restlessness pulled you to the edge of the village, where a little river wound its way through the landscape. The air was cool, and the gentle sound of the water flowing over stones accompanied you as you wandered along the riverbank, following a quiet feeling that fluttered in your chest.

You knelt beside the water, running your fingers through the cool current, when suddenly that familiar warmth enveloped your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked down, startled, as the sensation grew more pronounced, as if someone were brushing their fingers against your skin.

Then, out of the shadows, she appeared.

Dressed in layers of dark purple, flowing fabric that moved like shadows among the trees, a figure stepped forward, her brown hair cascading around her shoulders, shimmering in the fading light. Her presence was magnetic; there was an undeniable allure about her that pulled you in. She held herself with an elegance that spoke of wisdom and experience, but her eyes deep and playful were filled with a youthful spark.

“Well, well,” she said, a playful smile spreading across her face. “What do we have here? A lost soul wandering these woods?” Her voice was rich and melodic, laced with both humor and a hint of something deeper, something inviting.

You felt your heart race as you met her gaze. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else out here,” you replied, trying to mask your surprise at how drawn you felt towards her.

“Neither did I, darling,” she said, stepping closer. “The names Agatha Harkness dear, lovely to meet you.” Her voice softened, carrying a warmth that soothed the chill in the air. “Something told me I’d find someone special tonight, and I feel like I did.”

As you stood there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was different almost otherworldly. The way she moved, the elegance of her presence, sparked a mix of curiosity and intrigue within you.

“There’s something about you,” you said, glancing up at her. “You feel… ancient, like you belong to a different time.”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Ah, darling, there’s a reason for that. I’m a witch.”

The revelation hit you like a jolt of electricity. “A witch? But I thought those were just stories.”

“Most people think so,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “But magic is real, and so are soulmates.” She said with a little smirk

“Wait, soulmates?” You felt your heart race, the words igniting a spark of hope and disbelief. “Why are you telling me this? Are you saying that we are soulmates?”

Agatha’s gaze softened, filled with warmth. “Yes, my dear. The moment I saw you, I felt it a connection. The universe chose us.”

You struggled to process her words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “But I’m not a witch. How could I have a soulmate?”

The woman’s smile widened, her expression playful yet sincere. “Oh, sweetheart, magic often defies the rules we set for it,” she said, her tone rich with affection. “Sometimes it chooses those who need it most, even when they don’t fit the mold.”

“But I’m just a regular person,” you protested, shaking your head. “I’ve always thought that soulmates were for witches. It can’t be true.”

The woman’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “You may not wield magic in the traditional sense, but there’s a power in your heart that is undeniable,” she said gently. “Feelings are magic too, my dear. Your ability to love and to connect is a strength that many overlook.”

The air between you felt electric, the world around you fading as you stood before her. She took another step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Let me show you that your heart is just as powerful as any spell.”

As you opened your mouth to respond, a sudden rustling in the bushes nearby startled both of you. The momentary tension shifted your focus. “What was that?” you asked, glancing toward the sound.

Her demeanor changed slightly; the playful sparkle in her eyes transformed into something more serious. “Stay close to me,” she instructed, her voice firm. You felt the warmth of her presence, grounding you even as a sense of unease crept in.

The rustling grew louder, and you exchanged anxious glances. Then, emerging from the thicket, a creature scurried into the moonlight an ordinary rabbit, its nose twitching in curiosity. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and she chuckled softly, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had come.

“See? Just a harmless little thing,” she said, her laughter soothing your frayed nerves. “But it does remind me that the world can be unpredictable.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth return to the air around you as she stepped closer again. “What were we talking about?” she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity piqued once more.

“About how I’m not a witch and how it isn’t possible for me to have a soulmate,” you replied, the weight of your earlier denial still hanging between you.

Her head tilted slightly, her expression thoughtful. “The universe has a funny way of bringing people together,” she said. “You may not see it yet, but this bond is a gift, and it exists for a reason. Perhaps it’s to show you that magic is not limited to spells and potions but is found in connection and love.”

Her words resonated deeply within you, stirring something long dormant. “I want to believe that,” you said, looking into her eyes, where warmth and understanding glimmered. “But it feels too good to be true.”

“Ah, darling, sometimes the most beautiful things do feel that way,” she replied, her voice low and reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Sometimes we have to allow ourselves to embrace the extraordinary.”

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The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the forest clearing. The air was thick with tension as you and Agatha stood facing each other, the world around you fading into a hushed silence.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “That you’re my soulmate.”

Agatha smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sometimes the universe has a funny way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

“It feels like a dream,” you admitted, taking a small step closer. “A beautiful dream I never want to wake up from.”

She held your gaze, her expression shifting to something deeper. “Then let’s make it a reality.”

Your heart raced as the space between you narrowed. “Agatha, I”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her finger brushing gently against your lips. “No more words. Just feelings.”

You nodded, breathless. The intensity of her gaze held you captive, and you could feel the warmth radiating between you, drawing you closer.

“Can I?” she whispered, her voice low and inviting.

“Yes,” you breathed, every part of you yearning for the connection.

With that, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers. The kiss was soft at first, exploring, tasting then it deepened, a rush of warmth and energy enveloping you both. Her hands cradled your face, and you melted into her embrace, losing yourself in the moment.

Time seemed to suspend as the kiss lingered, filled with unspoken promises and the magic of newfound love. When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Agatha’s eyes were filled with delight.

“Now that,” she said with a teasing smile, “is magic.”

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Fin <3

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Hi love!!! It’s absolutely been toooooo long since I set a request but I read your prompts & had to send this in!!!

Neighbor Eddie? Maybe he sees the new neighbor moving into the apartment next to his & gets a little obsessed with her? Constantly timing it out to see her in the halls or at the mail room, knows where she works so he “accidentally” stopped in, knows her favorite coffee shop, he’s just always “accidentally” bumping into her , possibly dark sorta stalker-ish story?? Idk Halloween got me in spooky vibes lately & i loved it!! if you’re not comfortable writing this I totally understand but as always I hope you’re doing good!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

(11. New Apartment and 16. A flock of crows) with Eddie Munson. Thank you for your request lovie, I hope this is deliciously spooky!!

Warnings: Stalking, obsession, Dark!Eddie, mentions of homicidal thoughts and torture, mentions of sexual content, 18+ content!

Days were becoming shorter and shorter— darker and gloomier. Through the bleak winter clouds your eyes were drawn to the inky crows circling above your head. Their squawks and wails so violent you could have mistaken them as alarm bells ringing in your ears. They knew something you didn’t.

It was evident that something wasn’t right. An ominous darkness that lay festering beneath the surface of the deceiving ordinary. You had felt it since you moved from your home town— since you had laid your head down to sleep that first night in your new apartment.

It was comparable to a pair of beady eyes staring at you from a shadowy corner. The coat rack that your brain had convinced you was a man looming at the foot of your bed. The feeling made itself known. It demanded to be felt.

At first, you couldn’t have possibly suspected the curly haired metal head who cozily lived across the hall was to blame for your bazar paranoia.

But then you began to see more and more of him…

Eddie was his name. Eddie Munson.

Time continued its endless march onward and you hadn’t noticed the pattern because you had blindly narrowed it down to mere coincidence that you were seeing him so often. And that’s how Eddie wanted it to be. Undetectable. Like micro dosing you with a highly addictive drug. He wanted you to think of him often, but he had to be discreet about how his practices were played out.

It started in the laundry room in the basement of your shared apartment complex. You would be waiting on your load of laundry to finish in the dryer whilst Eddie would be waiting for his things in the washing machine. This was the first of many evenings shared this way. You and Eddie stood silently whilst the clink and clank of fabric shook in the operating machines in front of you. He had clearly left some loose change or maybe a lighter in his pockets.

Until you decided to try and spark the first conversation, “You’re in apartment E, right?”

And that’s all it took for the poison to seep penetratively deep into Eddie’s psyche. He was enchanted by you. Blanketed in a fog of your perfume. Your voice like a siren song lulling him to a watery grave. You had bewitched him. He was hooked.

“I live right across the hall from you in letter F. I moved in last week.” Most people mistook Eddie’s silence as ignorance, but not you. You could see that he wanted to talk to you. You understood him.

“Eddie. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He replied sheepishly and you would be lying if you said that his voice hadn’t caught you off guard. Gruff with a hint of softness— like he hadn’t spoken aloud in a while.

There was an allure to him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. The way his cheeks heated and his eyes darted everywhere but your face. It’s almost as if he was being seen for the first time. Like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been…

“I heard you play guitar? Sounds pretty cool. I can hear it through the walls sometimes.” You offer him a polite smile to try and coax him out of his shell, but he remains reserved. His arms crossed over his chest and his wild hair falling into his eyes. His eyes that seemed to be the deepest shade of brown you had ever seen. Swallowing light and offering only darkness.

“Didn’t mean to bother you. I’ve been needing to sound proof my walls.” His voice remained lodged in his throat, strangled. He wanted to keep the words unspoken. Thoughts that were meant only for him.

You wave away his worry with a flick of your wrist, “It doesn’t bother me. I do enjoy a good thumping base when I’m doing the dishes. Gives me a reason to dance around and not look clinically insane.”

Your laugh left him stilted— like a deer frozen in headlights. It was a sound he had only dreamt of. Something pulled straight from a fairytale. Your claws sunk into his skin further and his entire body erupted in an itch to run away from you.

“Sorry, I sometimes get ahead of myself, my name’s—“

Before you had any time to even just simply introduce yourself, the brunette was taking off out of the room. Like a criminal fleeing a crime scene. Full of panic and spontaneity.

“Wait— you forgot your… laundry…” And at that point you were meekly talking to empty space. Bumbling like a desperate fool.

If only in that moment you had taken the opportunity to look inside of his washing machine to discover that it was actually empty all along…

Eddie’s uncontrollable fascination with you only worsened with time and he found himself dressed in a dark zipper sweatshirt and a black baseball cap— premeditating his plans before he saw them through. He followed you to and from where you worked at a small bookstore near the edge of town. His breath breathing a thick spread of condensation onto the window pane as he searched for you through the glass. He would stand there for ridiculous amounts of time, sometimes for hours.

However he knew that to avoid suspicion he had to come inside at least a few times. Just to be safe.

He would trace his painted fingertips along the spines of books in the music section of the library and he would pick up one or two of the hardcovers and glance at the front page and the blurb on the back. Just to try and show some sort of faux interest. He would do this all whilst keeping his intense gaze fixated on you.

Your warm smile that always met your eyes. The way your nose scrunched slightly as you concentrated. He appreciated each article of clothing you wore and how the colours contrasted and complimented you beautifully. He longed to hear you laugh and he despised whenever another man would talk to you.

It caused his mind to darken to places it never had before. He would contemplate torture and homicide. He would indulge in fantasies of tying the men up to chairs, beating them into puddles of blood and drool and then making them watch as he fucked your sweet pussy silly. It drove him insane. You drove him insane.

He blamed you for what he was becoming. This animalistic hunter who only had an appetite for you and only you. Nothing could quench his thirst. There was nothing strong enough to drown out the thoughts he had about you.

It’s how he found himself standing behind you in the queue at your favourite cafe. Eddie found the coffee shop to be incredibly basic and he couldn’t quite understand why you loved and preferred it over any other, but if it meant that he got to see you more often then he would come here for the rest of his life.

Eddie hated coffee. He couldn’t stand the stuff. But just because he bought one, didn’t mean he had to drink it. All he had to do was to look like he was. So he nestled himself into a small crook at the hidden away corner of the store and left himself the perfect view of you from afar. He had your order memorised. Alongside the scent of your shampoo.

One day he promised himself that he would work up the courage to let himself into your apartment and see what trinkets of yours he could take but it was something he appreciated that it needed intricate and precise planning. Perfection took time, after all.

“Eddie?” You beamed down at him, your small and white ceramic mug and saucer balancing in the palm of your hand steadily, “What a pleasant surprise! How are you?”

Eddie gulped thickly at the thought of being caught and his trained and alert eyes follow your movements as you take a seat in front of him, welcoming yourself at his small table for one.

“I’m good. How are you?” His answers were always clipped and short. Nothing too interesting to draw you in, but enough mystery to leave you wanting more.

“Same old, same old!” Your shoulders bounce in a quick and dismissive shrug but he already knew what you had been doing prior to this interaction, “Do you come here often? I swear I’ve seen you in here a few times…” You weren’t confident in your allegation which caused Eddie’s heart to settle in his chest. He had you right where he wanted you. Dumb and sweet.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He cocks one of his eyebrows at you challengingly and his lips curve upward into a sly smirk. In just a sentence he had disarmed you and you melt into your seat comfortably.

“I’ve become quite the regular here…” You sip at the rim of your cup, leaving traces of your lipstick behind on the pristine glass which Eddie knew he would be taking home with him later, “It’s just so cozy! I love it.” You snuggle down into the collar of your cableknitted sweater, the one Eddie had watched you buy from the second hand store just a few blocks over.

Eddie knew you so well. All of your cute mannerisms and your nervous tells. But you hadn’t the faintest clue about him.

Everything seemed to shift one morning when you had stumbled into Eddie when you were retrieving your mail from your post box. It had become a theme for you both to be grabbing your mail at the same time, and somewhere inside of you, a part of you that existed deep down, began to feel uneasy around Eddie.

You began to take notice of the look in his eyes. He always seemed to be somewhere else. Miles away. You could always feel his presence so close behind you, an eerie existence that you couldn’t ignore. His breath would sometimes tickle the hair on the back of your neck and you could have sworn you had felt him sniff your hair at least once of twice.

You started to try and avoid him at any given opportunity. You thought that because he never spoke to you much anyways then there couldn’t be too much harm in the matter.

The only problem was the double edge to your sword. You thought Eddie wouldn’t notice… but of course he did. And it angered him to a point of no return.

“Jesus Christ!!” Your hand clutches at your heart, your fingers fisting at the fabric of your sweater, “I didn’t even hear you come down the stairs…” Your breathing is erratic at the discovery of Eddie standing behind you. It was his intention to remain quiet— to catch you off guard. He liked to see you scared and riled up… it.. excited him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Although his words sounded sincere, they weren’t. But he knew that you couldn’t tell the difference, “You okay?” He is closer now and he is nearly fleeting at the reflection of himself mirrored in the irises of your gorgeous and blown eyes.

He hears you gulp down a pool of saliva and it causes his smile to widen further, “It’s awfully early to be downstairs, is it not? Where are you off to?” He nearly pins you against the wall of metal post boxes but quickly reverts to opening his own locker. It was empty inside but you didn’t have to know that. He enjoyed toying with you. Puppeteering your feelings like a master of strings.

“I’m going to work.” You were struggling to deflect the annoyance and fear in your voice and Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle to himself lightly. It was a Sunday morning— you weren’t going to work. Actually, you were only down here to try and avoid running into him later on. You couldn’t hide from him anymore. He saw right through your charade.

“You’re going to work at 7 a.m. on a Sunday?” He pried further just so he could see you squirm. And the view was fucking delicious.

“Yes—“ He didn’t allow you to finish.

“In your pyjamas?” He takes his time as his eyes drink in your appearance from head to toe and you are suddenly under the impression that you may be in terrible danger…

“Well… I’m just about to go and get ready so… yes.” You slam your locker closed, twisting the key hurriedly and darting toward the staircase.

“One sec, I’ll walk up with you.” Eddie’s stern voice stills your movements and you shake your head, smiling uncomfortably. The corners of your mouth don’t meet your eyes. Eddie notices this.

“I really should get going—“

“And done.” He closes his locker with such gentleness that it makes your head spin and as he walks over to your rigid frame empty handed you feel your heart shudder in your chest.

“You didn’t have any mail?” Accusation is clear in your voice as you stare at his hands knowingly and Eddie stops dead in his tracks. His once warm smile falls from his lips and his eyes harden to as cold as ice as they meet your own.

“And you don’t have work today.” You watch his head tilt off to one side, like an interested dog listening to its owner for further command and your skin crawls with horrid goosebumps. Your stomach twists into anxious knots and your heart rattles so loudly in your chest that you are afraid he will hear it.

A dreaded silence falls over the empty hall, nothing to be heard but laboured breath. Your voice tremors with anticipation as you bring yourself to ask the question that you already know the answer to.

“How do you know that, Eddie?”

He offers nothing but a vacant stare, almost like he is waiting for you to make the first move. If you run, he will be sure to chase after you. But once he has you in his clutches— he won’t let you go.

“How do you know that.” You ask again, grasping the paper envelopes so tight to the point that they begin to crinkle in your grip. Eddie’s fingers twitch, longing to touch something. To touch you. To hold you still. He couldn’t handle much more of your minuscule frantic movements.

“I think you know how, sweetheart.” Groomed eyebrows perk up on Eddie’s forehead, beckoning you to antagonise him further. His eyes look scarily black now, lifeless like a shark circling its prey. He takes tedious and careful steps toward you but you match each one with a step further up the stairs.

“Well… I… I need to get going. Time is ticking.” You flash him one of your forced smiles again and it’s enough for Eddie to finally reach out and grab you from behind.

His fingers tangle through your hair and he yanks you back down from the staircase. Your envelopes aeroplane across the room and his fingers clasp firmly over your lips before your horrified blood curdling scream can leave your throat.

Eddie moans erotically into your ear as his nose tickles up the nape of your neck. His nostrils whiffing in your scent deeply like a bloodhound on the hunt, “Oh, baby. So soft. So beautiful.” He groans again as his fingers indent into your skin harshly and your thrashes against his restraint fail. Your back is flush against his hard chest and only one of his arms is strong enough to keep you there, “Finally I can have you all to myself…” His voice had shifted downward an octave and you can feel his wolfish smile against your neck before he starts to gnaw and nibble on your skin, “Hope you’re ready for the time of your fucking life…”

-

forgot I had a tag list whoops, my bad! Enjoy xoxo

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[ohnoitstbskyen]

hello mr skyen... might i ask for opinions... for an elise thing im doing

Oh, this is interesting! I am not 100% sure what kind of opinion you're looking for - is this meant to be a skin idea or a full-scale redesign of the character? I'll give you some thoughts, with the caveat that these are off-the-dome impulsive reactions, and whatever I bring up is not meant to be prescriptive "this is wrong do it different" criticisms, they're just me bouncing ideas off of what you are presenting.

If anything I say is useful, then hooray. If it is not, or if it misses the point of what you are trying to do, please discard it without a second thought.

Bringing in some 1920s and 30s fashion energy is an interesting idea. Elise is meant to be this high society socialite who has literally been around for centuries and killing people, so there is definitely a solid idea in using an aesthetic which would be olde timey to modern eyes, but also a bit anachronistic and odd and instinctively a bit out of place in a high fantasy military state like Noxus. I think that's really interesting, and definitely more interesting than the somewhat directionless black leather lingerie her base design keeps her in.

We're playing around with gender presentation it looks like, which I think is a really solid play. Elise is generally presented as a fairly standard type busty sexy video game babe in League of Legends, with Legends of Runeterra opting to show her as a bit more spindly and flat chested. I think her general archetype definitely requires a level of sexiness, sensuality and seductiveness, she is an archetypal Black Widow character, but I don't think that means she necessarily needs to be stereotypically femme in body and presentation. Plus, the LoL universe has more than enough classic femme fatales already, anything that adds variety would be good.

I very much like the red and black fashion - she looks very credibly like an eccentric Noxian socialite, especially in the first two outfits.

I kinda feel like I'm missing something up around her collarbone and chest? A necklace? Tattoo? Cosmetic? I can see the idea of having the collar be exposed flesh for the allure of it, but I feel instinctively like it's conspicuously "empty" next to the highly made up and elaborate makeup and hair, and then the fashionable costuming.

Given that Elise is a transforming character, you could futz around a bit with her proportions? The shoes extend her legs by lengthening into points already, which is a good thing to carry over from the base design, but I think given the importance of long spindly legs to spiders, you could push it even further. think something like Bayonetta for example:

additionally, you could use something like a wrap-around collar, or a necklace, to play around with extending her neck, too, to make her even taller, and push a bit into the uncanny if you want. covering the neck up makes it easier, in my experience, to lengthen it without it looking too obviously odd.

it sort of depends on the impact you want her to have though. very tall, very slender, very long proportions are striking, and carry a vibe of the ethereal, maybe slightly mystical. height also often codes for power.

if you want her to be a more down-to-earth presence in her human form, though, especially if you want her to pretend to be harmless and/or vulnerable as part of her seduction and manipulation play, making her shorter is usually a better shortcut to achieving that vibe

hm... what else...

Well, the spider leg spikes on her arms are cool - I really like the idea of concealing them as some sort of high fashion eccentric accessory, although it's not 100% clear to me from the art here exactly how they are attached to her?

I really like the fashion design of the middle idea. I like giving her trousers and going right up to the edge of letting her have a naked upper body. It's a good way to play with the tease, I think, the allure of almost seeing what is hidden.

I'm not 100% sure about the green markings on the body. on the one hand, she DEFINITELY needs something Shadow Isles coded in her design, since that's where she draws her power from, on the other hand having it that much out in the open feels maybe a little... obvious? at least in her human form?

Of course, this again depends on the intention with the design. if you're designing this as a design to appear in League of Legends, whether as a champion update or a skin, then making her source of power obvious on her body is actually crucial, it's really important for in-game visual language. If it's for something like an appearance in Arcane, you could probably dial it back a couple of notches and make it more subtle.

Like, maybe the same idea of glowing tattoos that light up when she uses her powers, but they are subtle little spiderweb patterns on her skin that look like elaborate decoration when not in use? something like that?

anyway, that's all I can think of as a reaction just off the top of my head. this is really cool, I hope you keep working on it!

[baby-tini]

M4S

It was quiet… too quiet. The leaky pipe making puddles on the floor. The cold, damp air causes goosebumps to perk up on your arms and the hairs to stand up. Trying to move slightly, you hiss at the sharp cuffs as they bite at your raw wrists, the chair groans as you wriggle around in discomfort. Your thighs numb from not moving around, cracking your neck, you whine at the release of tension. The tight ropes giving you some relief when you inhale but cause you to choke up from the smell of bleach. Your ass is sore from the hard, wooden chair as you attempt to wiggle again, get some of the blood flow back into your legs, stretching them feels to hard as the lack of flow makes them feel heavier.

There's a bang upstairs… like a gun shot, then a harsh, bloody cry. One of pain and agony, it feels close but.. far? You're tired, hungry.. dazed maybe? Were you drugged? No, maybe it's just the lack of oxygen from the stuffy room, cold enough to be a basement.. but not quiet enough to be soundproof. Screaming might work, then again, alerting your.. kidnappers, won't benefit you, not even a little, but it's all you got. Although before you can even inhale the air there's a door that slams open not too far away from where you're tied up. It sounds broken from the sickening crack you hear reverberate off the walls. The stampede of steps sound angry, aggressive, the harsh groan of the steps and ear-splitting squeak of shoes tells you that much.

There's loud yelling in Japanese, then a sharp slap to your face, your head flies left so hard your neck cramps up, causing a dull pain to shoot through you. The whimper in pain is laughed off by the men… men? Maybe two, possibly three but you can't tell for sure. It hurts though, everything hurts, and everything hurts even more when a rough hand grabs a fist-full of your hair and yanks back at the root, causing a scream to rip from your throat, only for a bigger, colder hand to clamp around your throat and squeeze tight. A hand, soft and warm wipes away the sweat from your brow, sliding from your cheek to the fat of your lips and running a thumb? over it, tapping the bottom twice, your jaw dropping for entry, the loose feeling of your jaw is nice, until you feel a cold, hard piece slip between them… a gun. The tip of your tongue meets the trigger and you freeze up, attempting to pull away, only for the hand gripping your hair to pull you forward, making you gag on it. There's bile attacking the back of your throat, trying to force it back with a swallow only makes the gun slide deeper, the metal cutting the corners of your lips as your blindfold is pulled off.

"There's no use in pulling back, angel." A man, more on the shorter side, no taller than 5'5, with black hair speaks to you. His voice sound's deep and alluring, you'd go as far as to say sexy if it weren't for the circumstances. He looks similar to his counterpart, the one with white hair, just, not the blonde. The blonde looks the same.. but different? He looked meaner, more provokable, the one with his hand around your throat. The blondes hand tightened when you continued to force yourself away from the gun in the hand of the man with white hair.

There's little strength used to push you back onto the gun, your throat spasming around the intrusive piece of metal. The gag that comes from your throat is loud but muffled at the same time. The hand used to push you further onto the Dessert Eagle -that also has his hand in your hair- is connected to that of a black-haired man, the cut and color really fitting his skin tone and face. He's attractive.. they all are, but, you're still tied up in their basement, the ropes still tight around your abdomen. The prickly fibers on the rope, passing through your thin clothes and leaving an itchy and raw feeling on your skin. The ropes rubbing against the inevitable cuts on your stomach and chest.

The black-haired man leans down, as he pulls your head further back, the quirk of his lips obvious but not genuine. His eyes are the worst, big, black, soulless pits. There's something.. dark, maybe sinister even. Eyes that belong to a killer, not a human being. The eyes of tragedy and sin, not of praise and prayer. He's.. too close, his big black, bottomless eyes, they're scary. Like they can see through you, like theres nothing in them. You can't see a pupil, does he have pupils? He must, but then again, he's not the most… normal looking man you've ever met.

You're lost in a daze, the mans dark eyes like a never-ending abyss, that, you don't realize the calling of your name by the three men, that is, until you feel the hand wrapped around your throat -by the long-haired blonde- slap your cheek. Not as hard as you would've guessed but hard enough to snap you out of your daze. The cloudiness of your eyes leaving and the limp state goes away. The redirect of your mind leads you to look at the man with white hair. He has the same dead, black eyes but.. he looks more tired, more exhausted. He looks like skin and bones, the clothes he's wearing hanging off him noticeably.

The man with white hair speaks up, "When one of us asks a question, you answer, not a moment before and certainly not a moment after. Do you understand.. I said, Do. You. Understand?" You give a nod after a moment of hesitance, the pupil of your eyes dilate at the gun. Your whole body is trembling, "are you gonna kill me..?" It comes out as a muffled whimper, around the gun, less of what you planned but suitable nonetheless, given the situation. You wish they didn't hold so much power but.. these men looked dangerous, it would be best to play as submissive as possible.. be their little angel, so to speak.

The white-haired man stares at you for a second, "I won't kill you if… you give me what I want, deal?" There's an automatic nod to your head. The glow in your eyes speaks for you, as you try to lean forward ready to give them everything… only to freeze at the sadistic grin he -the white-haired man- gives you. The man, slides the gun out of your mouth and uses it to lift your chin, "You eager.. huh, pretty doll?" The fat of your cheeks flush at his words but you don't pull away, not like you were ables to anyway. He -the white-haired man- leans down in-front of your face, "You don't know what I want.. do you babydoll.. huh?" There's an automatic shake of your head, the back down, courtesy of the fear you're feeling. Then comes the tears, the salty water pouring down your cheeks as your throat starts to close up and you start to panic.

There's a quick swap of position, the blonde now stands behind you, with a loose hand around your throat. The black-haired man still has a fist in your hair, but his other hand starts wiping away the tears from your cheeks and rubbing his thumb under your brow to coarse you into a false sense of vulnerability. The white-haired man stays put, the gun still pointed in your face and those dark eyes still glued on you as his hands stay eerily steady.He doesn't seem bothered and you'd bet millions that he's not, this seems to be an everyday occurence for him.

"W- what did you want..?" your voice leaves in a stutter, the sound of a pained whimper, is apparent to the men, that you're terrified. Then again, they could tell by your eyes, the eyes of a scared fawn, just what they like. The blonde speaks up, "We want our money back… the same money you and your little boyfriend owe us." There's a confused gargle at the back of your throat as you look up at him. The black-haired man starts chuckling, "C'mon now, princess. I really hope you don't pull the confusion bullshit like everyone else.." You shake your head at them, "I truly don't know what you're talking about, I didn't steal money."

The blondes hand tightened around your throat, the red imprints already stinging, "lying will only make us angry, maybe you should try telling us the truth. You'll get out of here a lot quicker if you do." You shake your head, only for it to be yanked back by the hand in your hair. The hand in your hair starts moving your head in a 'yes' motion and he laughs in your face, leaning closer. "You'll tell us what we want to know, angel?" The man guides your head again, moving it against your will, causing more tears to slip down your cheeks as your cries come out in pained whines because of the hand necklace you were so kindly given, against your will, of course.

The blonde speaks up, "we know you know what money we're talk- what's this, huh?" He pulls out a dime bag of coke from your bra. The reaction is immediate, to start thrashing in the chair again. Causing the black-haired man to lose his grip on your hair and get pushed away. The slap to your thighs are an immediate aftermath, the stinging causes your thighs to twitch open involuntarily. The gunman steps between them, he's close, too close, his breath smells of red bean paste, dorayaki.. maybe? The man slips the gun down from your jugular to your collarbone, leaving a angry red line.

"Please, that's not mine, I'm just… holding it for a friend. I- It- please, sir listen." There's a look between the men then a laugh. The black- haired man speaks up, getting close to your ear. "Sir, huh? That a lil'.. kink of yours sweetheart?" There's an immediate look of embarrassment, the dark blush climbing up your neck. The blonde leans down on your right, "oh, she likes that… you like this don't you? You like being tied up and having a gun pointed at your head, huh? You're a sick little bitch, you know that?" His hand glides down your clavicle to your stomach, then trailing down to your thighs then gliding his hand back up. The blonde takes out a knife and cuts the restraints on your wrists and ankles, then sheathes it back into his pocket.

"Please… it wasn't on me, it was Akamai, I swear, I didn't know, those fucking drugs aren't mine." There's a whine to the plead in your voice, just noticeable for the three… men, in front of you. "But, that's not entirely true… is it, pretty girl? You knew what your little… what? Boyfriend? Was doing, you came with him, is he.. your little..?"He gestures to your clothes. His two brothers behind him also give you curious eyes. Giving you a full once over, staring at your breasts, a little longer then necessary.

There's a look of disgust on your face, "are you calling me a whore??" There's a harsh lash in your tone. There's a chuckle from all three men. "No princess, well.. maybe, I mean look at you, you're dressed like a little slut. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he'd pimp you out?" It's quick- but not quick enough, your attempt to wrangle the throat of the man in front of you is quickly shut down by his twin? Brother? You're still not sure, but they're too similar to just be brothers. Then again, you doubt they'll tell you, if the gun pointed at your head right now tells you anything. BANG.

The bullet speeds past your face, cutting your cheek in the process. There's a slight sting but nothing serious. The bullet hits the drywall behind you, leaving a small hole. The sickly looking man leans down in-front of you and laughs in your face. His breath reeks of sugary treats.

You're yanked out of the chair by your hair, you trip and fall to your knees but the white-haired man continues to drag you to a door, it leads to a smaller room with a bed. The room is bland and cold, there's only a bed, with no sheets or covers.. no pillow and comforter either. The bed itself is small and looks to be covered in.. blood. The fluids on the bed are dried and old, browning in spots and dark red in others.

"Is this where you keep your sex slaves?" There's a chuckle from the blonde and black-haired man but a scoff from the man dragging you by your hair, "we don't keep "sex slaves".. we don't need to. Women pay to have sex with us, angel.. but there's a first for everything. Maybe you're the golden girl, hm?" The man lays you down on the bed and the black-haired man stands next to him. "Yeah, I like her, we'll keep her." The men make the agreement together, disregarding you completely.

"Who are you guys anyway?" There's a silence then a scoff from each men, "you seriously don't know who we are?" You hesitate for a moment, "I know who you guys are, kinda, The Sano brothers… that's it, I don't even.. know your names." They all step towards you simultaneously, the white-haired man speaks first.

"I'm Manjiro Sano, the one with black-hair is Jiro Sano and the blonde is Mikey Sano." The white-haired man clarifies. You look between the men. "So, are you guys- Manjiro and Jiro twins?" They nod. Then Mikey walks around his brothers and pushes you down on to the bed.

"We're willing to cut you a deal, sweetheart, sex in exchange for your freedom, we'll have your.. boyfriends head instead, sound good?" He states, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You look at Mikey then his brothers, nodding your head as you kiss at Mikeys finger-tips. All three men grin and the other two get on the bed as well.

Jiro, pushes you down to climb on top of you. As he starts to kiss up your neck, Manjiro kisses you, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he runs his hand down your stomach, to your thighs and pulls them open. Mikey climbs in-between them, pulling at your pants. He throws them to the side, he takes his thumb and runs it over your clit, through your panties. He slips his index down you clothed slit. There's a wet patch under his fingers and he pats your cunt a couple times.

You whine into the mouth enclosing yours, running your left hand through Jiros hair. Tugging at the black strands, he groans into your neck, biting down a little harder. He pulls back to see the fresh teeth imprints, then he goes back down, he starts to mark other parts of your neck. Mikey licks you through your panties, nipping at the fabric and nuzzles his nose into your clit, causing you to try and jerk away. Mikey grabs you by the thighs and pulls you back down, towards his mouth.

He finally pulls your panties off and swipes the tip of his tongue over your clit, twirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves. Then sucking harshly on it. You pull yourself away from Manjiros mouth, to throw your head back and cry out in ecstasy. The cry is pretty to them, they want- they need more, they're hungry for it. Mikey pulls back from the cunt, there's a quick whine from you but it's cut short when Manjiro kisses you again. Mikey spits on your slit, then uses his index and middle to smear it on your pussy. Making sure to deliver slow, tight circles around your clit. He leans back down to assault your clit again, giving it wet kisses as he slips two fingers inside and scissoring them apart.

There's a hiss of pleasure that escapes through your lips but Manjiro is there to shush you. Jiro pulls back, "we have to make this quick, I have a meeting with Toman in thirty." He states, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. Mikey pulls back and also slips his pants and boxers off, as he does that, Manjiro places another kiss on your lips and pulls back. He doesn't undress, he just slips the undergarments below his cock. Then pushes into your mouth, your tongue wrapping around his tip without order.

Mikey leans back to spread your thighs a little wider, he takes his cock in his hand and rubs the tip along your slit, pressing the tip to your clit to circle the nerve before he slides in. The spit providing extra lubrication, as he slips in easily. You look over and make eye-contact with Jiro, the does of your eyes only feeding into your lust as grabs your left hand to wrap it around his cock. Smearing his pre-cum to help jerk him easier.

You're full, so fucking full. You've had sex before but it's never felt this good and you doubt it ever will again. You've never met a man that fills you quite like Mikey and you highly doubt his brothers would disappoint you as well. Judging from how your mouth has to stretch beyond capacity, and how your hand barely fits half-way around Jiros cock. The drugs were worth it, stealing the drugs from Akamai were more worth it then you first thought. You've always wanted to fuck the Sano brothers and if that means framing your money-hungry limp dick boyfriend then so be it.

Jiro moves closer to you and squeezes your hand tighter around his cock, he groans from the pressure and you move your hand faster, twisting your wrist and rubbing your thumb up and down the slit, it causes him to keen over you as he catches himself with his right hand above your head moving his left down to rub at your clit. The added pleasure causes you to squeal around his brothers cock. Your throat spasming around Manjros cock as you attempt to bob your head quicker on his dick. Mikey pulls you closer and pulls both your thighs onto his left shoulder as he fucks you harder, his right hand pressing down on your stomach, as his dick leaves a physical imprint inside you. He gives your left ankle a kiss as he leans his head on your calves, watching as you take his brother down your throat.

Manjiro wraps your hair around his fist as he starts to throat-fuck you. He uses his left hand to wipe away your tears as he rubs his thumb under your right eye. "You're doing so good for us, sweetheart?" You try to nod for him as best you can. He chuckles as you choke from your nodding and gives your right cheek a couple pats before he leans his head back and lowly groans. The sound reverberates around the small, bare room and so does the sound of the bed creaking, occasionally hitting the wall, every now and again.

The body bounces in rapid jerks from the thrusts as all three men fuck you pliant. The gags of your throat sending vibrations through Manjiros cock and he whines. The man looks at you through lidded black eyes. "Tell me now before I finish down your tight throat." There's a rapid nod from your end, you need to feel it slip down your throat, you need to taste him. He nods, letting his head fall back as he cums down your throat. His twin is next, Jiro cumming all over your chest, some getting on your stomach. He breathes heavily as he lazily grins at you, still rubbing tight circles around your clit.

You cum, harder then ever before, harder then you thought possible. Mikey tries to pull out but you shake your head and whine at him, he chuckles at that and pushes all the way to the brim, his balls taut against your ass as he cums inside. He's warm and fills you full, your stomach having a little bump from it, that he so gleefully pushes down on when he pulls out of you, causing the cum the slide out of you. Only for him to use his fingers to slide it back into, with a kiss to the cheek gets up. All three of the men stand up and redress themselves, giving you a smirk as they do so.

Manjiro walks back over to you and pecks your lips and with a peck to the cheeks from Jiro and Mikey, they grant you with the words you've longed to hear, since you saw them that day.

"We're gonna keep you princess.. I hope you don't mind."

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

ALL THE BETTER

KINKTOBER DAY 2 - RED RIDING HOOD AU WITH EMMETT

Pairing - Emmett x fem!reader

Summary - You must deal with the consequences after leading the wolf into your grandmother’s cottage

Warnings - non con, dubcon, character death, fingering, handjob, p in v, marking, rutting, werewolf.

Word count - 3.1k

Notes - Set in the 1700s. Doesn't Emmett just give off big bad wolf vibes to you? Was suppose to be a very very long story, but couldn’t find the inspiration to finish it in time so i sliced it lol. Not my best work, was really hard to do but oh well it’s kinktober.

It was all your fault. These consequences were due to your naive actions over the past few weeks of knowing this man, this beast. Emmett was kind, gentle, charming and rugged to the ignorant eye. It was so easy for him to fool you. The fateful crossing of paths through the woods may not have been as accidental as you believed. You’d invited the traveler into your grandma’s cottage, given him a place to rest which turned into a new residence for him. All he practically had to do was chop the firewood to keep the cottage warm at night. Together, you both assisted your aging grandma and her declining health.

Emmett was captivating to your innocent eyes. His beard was as thick as badger fur, it turned gray around the bottom of his jaw. The dark brunette strands of hair parted towards his right. He spoke almost in hush tones a lot, but his tone was deep and masculine. He was a tad shorter than the average man in your village. But his alluring blue eyes caught your attention from the beginning, they were gentle and almost sparkled.

A wolf in disguise indeed. Every stare he had given you, was not genuine but sinister. The nights you’d wake up to a figure in the shadows, it was always him, not a dream. The internal need for him to help you, protect you, watch over you constantly would be your ruining. You had let touch you, hold you, kiss you. The beast had tricked you into loving him, to the point where he almost corrupted you.

The night before, shortly after you had shut down his animalistic urges to deflower you, he left in a frustrated manner. Emmett’s chest heaved like a wild creature and grumbles sounded like growls. You tried to stay awake for him, but the late hours of the night grew heavy on your eyes. Until later, he abruptly stumbled into the cottage, in complete agony. His firm body was only covered in sweat and blood as he cried out. A bullet wound in his bare left thigh.

There was no time or thought to question anything, his naked state went unfocused as you were forced to pull the bullet out of him. It took an eternity to draw it out. The silver bullet shined as you washed the blood off of it. He had gone for a swim in the lake, as he claimed, on this freezing night teasing the upcoming winter season. They must have been hunters and mistaken him for an animal. That or they were monsters playing twisted games. Emmett seemed so determined and angered on the matter that you wouldn’t dare to have another opinion. You were like a fish with how easily you bit the bait.

The morning of, Emmett’s face was covered in sweat, eyes flashing red as he whined in despair. He needed a doctor, medicine, anything better than your amending. Even though he was heavily opposed to it, you hurried through the woods in your red cloak. Your grandma assumed she’d take care of him until you’d return.

The clouds rumbled over you, you could smell the rain brew in the sky. But immediately as you entered the village, a townsman warned you, “beware miss! A werewolf is lurking in the woods!”

“A werewolf?” you gasped, fear flashing over your eyes.

“Yes, they shot it in its leg last night, but the beast got away” he huffed out in annoyance.

“Shot it… with what?” you dared to ask.

Your heart pounded against your bones, blood streamed through your veins as you found it hard to breathe. Time seemed to slow down, you felt the man stare you dead in the eye.

“A silver bullet” he answered blankly.

The words dragged out through your mind, you gasped silently as a million thoughts ran through your mind. The instant thought was to cry wolf, but the words were too risky to claim. You had left your grandmother with the beast, you needed to save her, a village of hunters would do no such thing, she was currently a lamb awaiting the slaughter.

You had raced all the way back from the village, the rain spitting onto your skin. Your breathing was heavy, filled with distraught and angst. The forest was shaking around you, you heard a school of birds flatter around you, the dark clouds began to clash with one another. You screamed out in pain, your legs were starting to feel like jelly, but you couldn’t stop now.

As you ran through the door, your adrenaline charged through, but you froze in your footsteps. The floor had a trail of red, your body trembled as you called out her name. But there was pure silence in the cottage. The door was rested over, you dared to push it open.

Throughout the chaos of it all, the walls were painted red, the room stenched of copper, pieces of your grandma splattered across the room, the walls were clawed into, furniture ripped apart. You wailed out, eyes shot in every direction before you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Grandma!” you shrieked, your eyes pouring out hot tears as you shuddered.

Time froze.

No, no, this was all a horrible nightmare, you needed to wake up. These thoughts of yours were crazy, there was no possibility, werewolves haven’t wandered these woods in decades years.

But as you stood frozen for longer, the more it made sense. The more the fear dawned over you, you had led a werewolf into your grandma’s home, and left her alone with the beast.

Your body felt completely numb, your mind raced with every negative emotion daggering into you repetitively. You stumbled out of the room and shrieked when you bumped into a firm figure behind you, your body flung around.

It took you a moment to even realize his appearance. His hairy chest could have almost been mistaken for a shirt through your blurred vision. However, it was the large member that hung freely that switched the gears on in the inside of your head. Emmett stood completely naked in front of you, shamelessly at the matter, however his expression was full of despair and guilt. The limp in his leg was gone, the wound vanished. His skin had marks of blood everywhere.

“I’m sorry… I- I didn’t mean to… I really tried not to! I didn’t want to hurt her” Emmett stuttered out, his mind completely blurred with a range of emotions as if he was in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Emmett” you choked out, noticing the trickle of blood over his lips.

“I couldn’t control myself… She was dying sweetheart, it was a mercy kill! I needed to feed in order to heal” Emmett poorly explained, he gripped onto the slither of hope that you’d understate.

It was true, she was dying. He could smell the blood from her handkerchief and hear it in her hoarse voice. But you were too naive to look with your open eyes. The smell was sickening, the killing a thousand times worse. But Emmett was desperate, he was dancing with death laying in that bed.

Everything was bewildering your timid mind, your heart pounded against your chest, your throat closed up, you couldn’t breathe. Your blurred vision was darting between Emmett and the massacre on your grandma’s bed. When he took a step closer to you, you leaped back instinctively.

“Emmett, you’re scaring me!” you shrieked.

The tone of your dismay ached at Emmett’s heart, he blinked hard, hoping that it would help relieve his tormented thoughts. With his hands raised up in surrender, he continued to slowly step towards you, your hands felt around the walls and pieces of furniture around you, too afraid that if you looked away from him, he’d pounce at the opportunity.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll never hurt you” Emmett promised, his voice stern and determined. His jaw locked as he watched your fingertips search for a weapon.

As your hand wrapped around a candle stick, Emmett snarled and pounced at you, you yelped and swung the metal object at him. It hit his shoulder but did no damage, his large hand smacked the object to the ground, Emmett effortlessly pinned you against the wall. Your body thrashed, squirmed and turned under his grip, his nostrils flared in annoyance. When Emmett brought his lips closer to yours, you bit the air in warning.

“Get off of me!” you screamed, but your tone was weak and broken.

“Calm down little one!” Emmett tutted harshly.

His hand wrapped underneath your jaw as he pointed your chin towards him, you whimpered out as the tightness. His blue eyes were narrowed, he looked down at you as if you were a child mid tantrum over nothing.

“Get off me! You’re a disgusting monster!” you screamed, tears coated your red cheeks.

Emmett scoffed at your words, his mouth pressed to your ear, the wetness of his beard made you cringe and gag slightly. Emmett’s body shivered lightly as he inhaled your scent. His animalistic urges crawled their way out, despite how badly he tried to keep it all chained up.

“Don’t blame me! You said it yourself, she was stubborn to the bone. If she had any common sense she’d listen to you and be healthy and alive!” Emmett insulted, his words hissing like a boiled kettle.

You whined out, but it was pointless, his hold held you down like iron. The pounding sound of your racing heartbeat ran down his ear drums. It made him feel pity towards you, his stern expression softened. The way he pressed his lips to your sweating forehead was sweet, but you didn’t see it that way.

“Don’t worry… It was quick, she didn’t even have a second to scream” Emmett comforted, his breathing rugged, a weak smile on his lips.

You blubbered out, his words hurt you. This wasn’t real, this felt impossible. How could you be so naive, you helped the enemy, you killed your grandmother.

Emmett’s slippery tongue ran up your cheek, he moaned at the taste of your tears. You squirmed every time he kissed or licked your flustered skin, but he ignored your protesting behavior. His rough hands slowly dropped to your waist, he squeezed the skin around your hips.

“Your scent has been torturing me for weeks before we met. I’ve traveled so far for you, my heart longs for you little one…” Emmett admitted proudly, his lips gently kissed yours.

“W-what?” you whimpered out, complete utter shock painted on you.

Emmett had known you were his before he met you. One evening, your scent lingered in his senses, he couldn’t block out the aura even if he wanted to. That night, he packed a small gathering of belongings and searched for you. He had many sleepless nights, agonizing moments of craving you underneath him. When he stumbled upon your grandma’s cottage, he knew he was close. So, so close to you. He waited nearby for days for you to come to him.

Other werewolves would rut their mate on the spot and drag them back home if need be. But Emmett was different, he wanted to do this right, wanted your love to grow and not be forced down your throat. It took a lot of restraint, but Emmett was certain on making you fall for him.

“You’re mine now” Emmett flared his teeth. “Don’t be upset, it’ll turn out all the better for us” he assured, his rough hand felt soft against your skin.

Without another second to spare, Emmett crashed his lips back onto yours, his tongue darted out and slipped inside your mouth. Your body turned stiff as he practically ate your mouth, his teeth nibbled on your skin whilst his hands ran up and down your curves. He untied your cloak and let it slip to the ground.

“I need you so badly, please?” Emmett almost whimpered pathetically, his eyes two massive pools of desire and need.

You mewled out, lips wobbling and skin trembling, you knew what he meant. Not to mention his throbbing length that poked against your thigh teased you. You dared to look down at it, you squeaked and squeezed your eyes shut. Emmett sighed dramatically and stroked himself.

“Hey, it’s alright. It won’t bite you, here look” Emmett comforted before he tugged your hand to his hairy length.

You gasped out as your fingers wrapped around his thick size, your eyes snapped onto him, glossy with tears. Emmett smiled at you softly, reassuringly. Slowly, he guided your hand to stroke him, all while his free hand scrunched your dress up.

The way his hand rubbed over your cunt underneath your panties made your stomach turn. Emmett’s eyes rolled back at the glistering sensation of your pussy. So fucking wet for him, you needed him just as badly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together in defense, but his fingers quickly pushed into your tight entrance.

“Oww” you hissed.

“It’s okay little one, only hurts temporarily” Emmett assured through a huff.

Reactively, you squeezed his shaft, resulting in Emmett groaning in pleasure. Before you knew it, Emmett stripped you bare, shredding the fabric to pieces. you whimpered and trembled before him, but dared not to poke the wolf. Emmett grumbled out, the animal inside of him demanded to pounce on top of you, to devour you like a lamb. But he needed to be careful, you were timid, you deserved to be treated with care.

Your arms covered your privates, Emmett slowly closed the distance and repositioned your arms to your sides. As he tilted your chin up, you blinked slowly, your tears spilled out. One hand caressed your breasts, his fingertips rolled over your hardened nipples whilst the other returned to your dripping core. You shivered against him as he played with your sensitive nerves. Your body betrayed you, it felt good, too good. The sparks of pain would be splashed away with a bucket of pleasure. Almost naturally, your body curved against his as his beard tickled your face.

Quickly, you're taken down to the wooden ground, Emmett straddled you as he kissed you gently. He took your breasts into his large rough hands as he wriggled his hips against yours. It went unsaid with Emmett lining his cock up with your entrance, you gulped as his tip teased your entrance.

Emmett kissed you passionately as he thrusted his hips towards yours. You yelped against him, your arms latched around his firm back as his cock pushed its way forcefully inside of you. Emmett heaved out, his shaft halfway in as you clenched his size still. Your words came out jumbled, you just wanted him to stop, but he still tried to inch himself in further at every moment. To comfort you, Emmett rubbed your flustered cheeks.

“Breathe little one, I’m not going to rip you in half” Emmett chuckled whilst lifting your hips up into the air.

You whined out, but listened to his command, your breathing was rough at first, but gradually grew more softer. Following after you, Emmett pushed himself in further, his hands kept your hips up as he kissed you in praise. His hips snapped in and out, his balls smacked against your sensitive skin. With every thrust, Emmett reached your sweet spot, you moaned out unwillingly. His tip teased you, you felt your abdominal tighten, your eyes fluttered back at the rapidly growing bundle of pleasure.

“Doing so good little one” Emmett praised, his beard prickling your chin.

As you looked him in the eyes, your heart betrayed you. He was still so beautiful. His features were soft and warming, you felt your heart flutter for a quick second. An inner belief that he’d always protect you flashed before your eyes. Your hand raised to his cheek, even though you trembled, you attempted to caress his skin. But the remembrance of everything fell back into place and your hand retreated. Emmett huffed out, most likely in annoyance. His lips latched onto your neck as he pistoned into you.

Shortly after, you felt your eyes roll backwards. Unexpectedly on your behalf, your orgasm crashed over you. Your velvet walls squeezed onto Emmett’s cock for dear life, Emmett grunted out, his eyes twitched as he felt his member beg for release. Your sweet piercing moans were angelic. His breathing grew heavier, eyes turned a shade darker, his forearms rested besides your head as he continued to ram into you.

He could feel his shaft pulsate, demanding to claim you completely. It felt like the need for oxygen, if Emmett didn’t mark you as his now, he’d think he would die.

“Fuck, I need, I need to rut in you sweetheart, I can’t help myself, I need to mark you as mine” Emmett admitted, his words stiff as he was so distracted with fucking you senselessly.

“What do you mean?” you cried out, unable to catch your breath.

But Emmett ignored you, he nibbled your soft skin. Really, Emmett should be grabbing something or anything to soften your body, oh fuck it, you can just lay on his chest. Swiftly, Emmett flipped you over, his cock buried completely inside of you. You mewled out at the throbbing sensation in your slippery walls.

“Emmett! What are you-”

Now, your parents never went over the details on when a woman marries her husband, however this didn’t feel normal. His cock was expanding inside of you, you cried out, it felt like pure agony. This was supernatural, you were certain it would be the death of you. You body fell limp on him as his shaft almost doubled in size. Even though you were gasping in pain, Emmett was exhaling in sexual relief. His hands brushed your hair whilst he laid comfortably onto the wooden planks. Your face pressed besides his as you heaved out. The entirety of your lower body was on fire, every inch you moved felt torturous.

A wave of possessiveness and ownership crashed over Emmett. “You’re mine, alright?” Emmett spoke firmly, his head tilted towards yours. You laid silently, sight pointed away from him. So he repositioned your head for you to look him in. the eye. “Don’t try to run from me… I’ll fucking rip apart anyone who gets in my way” he threatened before returning to his comforting nature by caressing your bare skin.

Your body shivered, he saw your red cloak and reached over for it. The fabric covered your body as Emmett held you tightly and fell into a bliss of relaxation.

[floyds-favorite-shrimp]

If Looks Could Kill

Deuce Spade x Fem!Yuu

Word Count: 1503

A lil spicy. Jealous/Rough Deuce!

More under cut!

“Shrimpy!” Floyd yelled, his sharp teeth on full display as he grinned. He threw his arm over Yuu’s shoulder, pulling her to him. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t try to pull away. Yuu had been on her way to Deuce and Ace, who were sitting together on the other side of the courtyard. Floyd intercepted her on her way. 

“Hello Floyd.” Yuu said, a small smile played on her lips as she politely engaged Floyd in conversation. His teal hair fell into his face as he stared down at her. “What’s up?”

“Skipping out on work, of course!” He exclaimed happily. “Hey, keep me entertained?” He hooked his fingers under her chin, forcing her attention onto him. 

“I think most people ask ‘keep me company?’” Yuu said, raising her eyebrow at him. His grin widened. 

“Ok, keep me company?” He asked her. She sighed.

Meanwhile, Deuce sat with Ace on a red, wooden bench. His hands were curled into fists, his nails digging into his palm as he looked on at Floyd and Yuu. His fingers were under her chin, and she wasn’t pulling away. Why wasn’t she pulling away?

“-uce?”

What could they be talking about?

“-euce?”

What could he possibly want with her? Deuce had watched their entire interaction. Yuu had started on her way towards them, only to be stopped by Floyd’s arm around her shoulder. Deuce wasn’t sure if he had ever gone from elated to upset so quickly before. Didn’t Floyd know that she was dating Deuce? Didn’t he know that Deuce wouldn’t give her up for anything? Not even to some tall, handsome, bad-boy like Floyd. And why was it suddenly bothering Deuce that he was an eel? Surely that should make him less attractive to Yuu?

“Deuce!” 

Deuce was finally brought back to  reality when Ace smacked him upside the head. He unclenched his fists, not realizing how tense he had been.

“Yeah- huh-wha?” Deuce sputtered out, turning his bright eyes to his ginger friend. 

“Bro, if looks could kill…” Ace trailed off, looking between Deuce and the pair across the yard. “Tell me you’re jealous without telling me you’re jealous.”

“I- I’m not jealous!” Deuce said, knowing it was quite possibly the biggest lie he had ever told. “Why would I be jealous?” He asked, slumping back against the bench and crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to look at Ace, but the frown on his face told Ace everything he needed to know. Ace smirked to himself, an idea popping into his mind so genius he was surprised a lightbulb didn’t form in midair above him. 

Yuu would have to thank him later.

“I don’t know if I could watch that, if I were her boyfriend.” Ace said, nodding his head in the general direction of the other two. “I mean, even I think he’s pretty hot. And I’m not really attracted to dudes.” 

“Wait-wha- I-I’m h-hot!” Deuce stuttered out, his eyes wide as he stared at Ace in disbelief. Ace had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“I mean sure.” Ace said, keeping his face so straight he momentarily considered a career in acting. “But you’re, what, like six-seven- inches shorter than him? And not nearly as chaotic.”

“Chaotic?” Deuce questioned, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“Well, yeah.” Ace continued. “That’s kind of the hot new thing, isn’t it? Girls are always attracted to the chaotic red-flags.” 

“Red flags?” Deuce asked again, his gaze distant as he looked onward, but focused on nothing.

“And you’re pretty much a walking green flag. Which is great, but not really as, uh, alluring.” Ace continued, his scarlet eyes screaming in amusement.

There was a moment of silence as Deuce’s brain slowly caught up to everything Ace had said. Chaotic? Red flag? Alluring? Deuce could do that. Deuce has done that. Where was his hair bleach!

He sprung up off of the bench, his bright eyes focused on one thing. On one person. 

“What are you-” Ace started to say, but he was cut off as Deuce took off. His long legs carried him quickly across the grass to Yuu. Ace watched him, shaking his head slightly.

“He’s too easy.”

“Excuse me.” Came a deep voice in Yuu’s ear. She jumped slightly, immediately recognizing it without having to look. She felt his hand grip her wrist, and Floyd dropped his finger from her chin. Yuu glanced back, surprised to see his eyes dark with anger.

She had never seen him angry like this.

“Uh, Deuce?” She asked, but instead of answering her he pulled on her arm and she stumbled towards him. His cyan eyes were locked with Floyd’s heterochromatic gaze. She could sense some kind of unspoken argument between them, and finally Floyd relented.

“This is no good.” He hugged. Alright, Shrimpy.” He said, his smile having turned into a frown. “I’ll see ya later.” He turned on his heel before walking off. Yuu watched him leave for just a moment before turning her questioning stare to Deuce. He glanced at her from the corner of  his eye, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he began to walk, pulling her by her wrist. The gesture was both rough, and exceedingly gentle. Yuu knew he would never hurt her, but that didn’t stop her from being exceptionally confused. 

They marched on in silence, Yuu always a step behind Deuce as he led her away from campus, and toward Ramshackle dorm. Yuu’s confusion only grew as he pulled her up the front steps and into the entryway.

“Grim?” Was all Deuce asked, not looking back at her as he asked. She stared at his broad shoulders as she answered nervously.

“Uh, getting food.” 

There was no way Deuce, her Deuce, would ever so much as raise his voice at her. So why was she so afraid that he was mad? She didn’t feel the need to swat Floyd away simply because she knew that Floyd didn’t have the emotional ability to get a crush. Did Deuce see things differently? Was he really that upset?

Deuce finally turned around to look at her. Their gazes met for a moment, but it felt like an eternity. His eyes were dark, but his signature gentleness remained. Yuu opened her mouth to speak, but before any words came out, Deuce had his hands wrapped around her upper arms, and her back pressed against the door. A small grunt of surprise left her, but that’s the only noise that could escape before her lips were captured in a rough kiss. 

Her thoughts scattered. Deuce moved his soft lips against hers even though it took her a moment to respond. This was definitely not what she was expecting. His grip moved from her arms to her hips, pulling her against him. Her arms looped his neck as Deuce nibbled on her bottom lip, causing her to gasp slightly, but it was just enough for him to slip his warm tongue between her lips. He massaged her tongue with his, and she felt her knees start to shake. She held onto him even tighter. 

He pulled away from her, but only to move his lips along her jaw and down her neck. Yuu tangled her fingers in his hair, tilting her head back to give him better access. She felt a sharp pain as he lightly bit down on her sensitive skin. His hands found their way under the hem of her shirt, his warm fingers gripping her hips. Her knees buckled as he continued to nip and suck on her neck. His hands moved to the back of her thighs, using the wall at her back to help lift her up and wrap her legs around his waist.

His lips moved to her collarbone, and across the top of her chest. When did he unbutton her shirt? How did she not notice?

“Deuce-what-” But he cut her off by slamming his lips back onto hers. She did not have the mental fortitude to make him stop. He had never touched her quite like this before. And as much as she loved his genuine kindness, she had to admit that she didn’t mind this side of him either. Maybe she could enjoy it, just for now…

The next day, Yuu had to wear a scarf with her school uniform. Her and Deuce were walking to class, hand-in-hand. Yuu was still dazed from the previous night (and the morning). She knew she would have to ask him about his shift in personality at some point, but the way he walked with his head high and her hand gripped tightly in his was enough to cause her to put it off for a little bit longer.

And then she caught a glimpse of Ace, with a wide smirk on his face as Deuce led her to their first class. She held his gaze, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

Ace, what the fuck did you do?

[trippinsorrows]

I feel like this is another multiverse type question. But say Solana wasn’t in the situation she was in and Roman was very much so attracted to her as he is now. How do you think Roman would have approached her ?

this is such an interesting question!

hmmm.

under the read more cause this got longer than i intended lol

roman was bored, ready to go. functions were never his thing. he always attended out of obligation and necessity. never want. and considering he's been present for an hour, he more than feels he's done what he needed to do.

he pulls out his phone to text paul to have the car pulled for him, ready for his wise man to foolishly try to convince him to stay when a body collides into him.

soft is one of the first things to hit him followed by a sweet, vanilla almond scent that's more than pleasing to all of his senses. his arm naturally reaches to brace the person who collided with him, a person he right away knows is a woman, both by the soft curves of her body but also the fragrance.

"oh my god." the voice. so soft and sweet, almost too sugary, too angelic for such a function, full of the world's most dangerous people. such a stark contrast. "i'm so sor---"

she's silenced, and roman is momentarily taken back as the two of them lock gazes. beautiful, big brown eyes widened in alarm that's most likely due to her recognizing who he is. "mr. reigns...."

roman is partially paying attention to her words but mostly taking his sweet time taking all of her in. her face is absolutely stunning, and roman can tell it's not just because of the beautifully done makeup. he can see natural beauty beneath that. her hair is pulled up into a fancy updo, but her full lips snatch his focus before he rakes his eyes over her body, even curvier than he realized. cleavage on full display in her red dress that hugs her perfectly. she's a tiny little thing. a good foot shorter to him, but there's no denying it.

she's fucking stunning.

and she's still fucking apologizing. "i'm so sor---"

"it's fine." anyone else, and it wouldn't be. but there's something about this woman with the soft voice, light eyes, and alluring body that has him not as irritated as he normally would be. "it was an accident."

she nods, clearly nervous, when she looks over her shoulder, as if looking for something. or someone.

suddenly curious, he asks, "who are you--"

"oh no," she interrupts him, an unintentional thing, as she offers what looks like an apologetic look. she holds up the bottom of her red gown to move past him. however, roman finds himself moving his arm to bar her, holding her. he has to stop himself from thinking too much about the almost natural feeling he experiences in and with touching her.

"i---"

"there you are."

roman breaks his stare with the woman to see none other than ethan fucking page. he scoffs. no wonder she's running.

this bastard is insufferable.

page clears his throat and gives roman a nod. "mr. reigns, i apologize for the interruption." his gaze falls on the woman who almost moves closer to roman, practically holding onto him. it's obvious she's uncomfortable as hell. has to be for good reason too. "just need to speak to---"

"she's with me."

it comes out without much thought, both page and the unnamed woman looking at him with equal surprise.

page removes his glasses, looking at her, "solana?"

solana

unique. pretty. fitting.

she swallows. "i---" and just like that, she seems prepared to ruin this save roman has provided her, though he hasn't the slightest idea why he's giving her a save. yet, here he is.

"get lost, page." roman's tone shifts into something darker, something that's very reminiscent of the reason that he's easily the most feared man in the room. "i won't repeat myself."

i.e. get lost, or i'll snap your neck. an unspoken threat that's clearly understood, because page murmurs something that's probably an apology. and then he's gone, leaving roman alone yet again with this solana.

looking back at her, she gives him a small smile. roman is quickly realizing she's even prettier when she smiles. "thank you."

roman nods, asking, even though he doesn't know why, "what's the story?"

her smile drops into a frown that roman finds himself wanting to wipe off her face. "ethan....he doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer." she shakes her head, scoffing quietly. "he shows up to my store at least once a week just to ask me out, even though the answer is always no."

"where do you work?" it's not that roman necessarily wants or even needs to know this piece of information, but there's a thought of breaking both page's knees and providing specifics when he does as such, such as the name of the place he's never to step foot in again, which could be....helpful.

roman is thankful when the smile returns, not as bright but still present. he'll take it. "i own a bookstore in town. nina's." his curiosity must be visible. "my mother's name. we share a love of books."

he makes a sound. everything he's learned in the less than twenty minutes he's known about this girl makes all the sense in the world. of course, her name is different, unlike any name for a woman he's heard of. of course, she has trouble fending off an asshole like page. and of course she likes books.

she clears her throat, finally breaking away. roman didn't even realize he was still holding her. "thank you again, mr. reigns."

"roman," he corrects. "call me roman."

she swallows, voice softening, "roman...."

he's not sure he's ever enjoyed hearing his name as much as he likes hearing it on her mouth. he'd love to hear it even more if she was screaming it, moaning it as he fucked her, kneading those beautiful, soft breast of hers.

fuck

"why are you looking at me like that?" she asks in that same sweet, almost innocent voice.

his eyes twinkle with mischief. "do you really need to ask?"

solana shifts bit, playing with her hands, hinting at some nervousness. "i'm not like that."

roman is almost certain he knows what she's saying, but he makes sure, regardless. "and what is that?"

her mouth shifts into a small smirk. "do you really need to ask?"

and for the first time tonight, roman smiles.

this girl is unlike any he's met before.

continuously intrigued, he asks, "what's your last name?"

she answers, "miller."

recognition dawns after a couple seconds for him. "xavier and nina...you're the daughter?"

he's always heard they had another child other than wesley, but he'd never seen her at one of these functions. didn't even realize it was a daughter.

a beautiful daughter at that.

she nods. "i don't typically attend these sorts of things."

"you should," he finds himself suggesting. roman isn't the biggest flirter, doesn't need to. women flock to him like moths to flame, but there's something about this woman... he steps closer to her, hand reaching out to run his finger along her cheek. "how else am i going to see you?"

she seems taken back, cheeks turning pink, but she takes him by surprise with her reply, "you could come see me."

his chuckle is dark and his tone suggestive. "oh, i don't think coming will be an issue."

and her cheeks deepen in color, as she announces, "i should go find my brother."

eyes falling to her chest, he asks, "should you?"

solana smiles and diverts her gaze, slightly disappointing him when she steps back. "goodbye, roman."

he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his custom suit pants. "not goodbye," he correct. "just goodnight."

because there's no doubt in roman reigns mind that this was the last time he'll ever see solana miller.

far from it.

[penvisions]

how we pass the time {by the grit of sandpaper}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: Budding conversations and budding feelings go hand in hand as you begin to spend more time with Joel Miller.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: canon typical language, pining, requited unrequited feelings, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, joel miller's hands need their own warning, joel is so soft in this, pet names, terms of endearment, SET BEFORE THE FIRST CHAPTER

A/N: the lovely @picketniffler sent in an emoji ask for the final chapter celebration and i ran with the idea (it was only supposed to be a drabble but these two live in my head rent free) ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Reading.” You had replied almost instantly, causing a hearty chuckle to sound from somewhere deep in Joel’s chest. His random question of hobbies barely leaving his plush lips. “I spend a lot of time reading, researching.”

“And what exactly do you research?” He didn’t turn from his survey of the trail ahead of him, the trees thick and dense with summer blooms. You had been with him for a few months now, partnered up as Maria begins to reduce her activities, Tommy wanting to remain as close to her as possible in case anything happened. Due in winter, she was about halfway through her pregnancy, something you were trying to fuel with protein and nutrient dense foods. Things you could make to allow for some hormone control and balance. Hence the research. Any and all books on food and cooking found their way to your doorstep, or were delivered to you by hand from the couple themselves, even a few of the other council members should they need to see if had anything of interest for the whole community first.

Your answer wasn’t as instantaneous. Voice caught in your throat as you took in the rather picturesque view of the man’s broad body atop his trusty stead trotting slowly up ahead of you. His shoulders were swathed in a denim button up, fabric taut over the planes of his shoulder blades, allowing you to see how his back tensed and clenched as Kiana, his favored brown and white patterned horse, tackled the overgrown trail. His hair was shorter, as if he had tried to curb the prevalent heat but it only made the disheveled curls his hair had been in begin to show themselves around the nape of his neck. Sweat beaded up and dampened the denim, no doubt even more noticeable on the tank top or undershirt he donned underneath.

But you hadn’t been so modest today, decked out in a pair of jeans and tank top. The sleeveless top allowed for your arms to feel the embrace of the sun, not quite smoldering but still sweltering. Sweat was surly discoloring the pale blue of it, the tone matching Joel’s attire. He had teased you over it when he approached the stables, you already having prepared the horses for the early morning route. But the grin with his tongue between his teeth had told you had hadn’t really minded, and maybe he had even liked that you had unconsciously matching him…

“Olive?” He turned to you know, one thick brow raised in question. “Heat got ya?”

“No, sorry. Just, taking in the views.”

“Views are pretty good.” His eyes moved over your body, taking in the way the strap of the shotgun was nestled over your chest, the collar of your top low. The shade provided by the wide brimmed hat you favored allowed for your eyes to remain hidden from him, though you were sure he could’ve felt the weight of your staring.

“You said you do a lot of research?” You shook the mental image of you both sprawled out on your couch, you with a book in your hands and a notebook to scrawl notations, him with another or even just content with something playing brightly across the room on your small television. He was so…alluring. His quiet demeanor, his willingness to do what he could to earn his keep in the community, his skills of helping Tommy and the scant crew with construction and home repairs. He had been a there since spring, a part of your life since then. Unwilling to imitate the rest of the town as he noticed how they either ignored your presence or gave you tight lipped smiles in response to your scarce interactions. He didn’t really see you much around town, something you had admitted to not doing much, leaving your house. He must’ve sensed the shift in your mood when he had asked why, moving his focus onto something else.

“Oh! Y-yes, research. O-on the nutrient offerings of food, of how certain crops can be boosted through simple scientific fixes, I work in the gardens a lot, have one in my own backyard.”

“I been reading a lot lately myself.” He turned back to face forward, the column of his neck glistening with a light sheen of sweat. “Also been dabblin’ in woodworking.”

“That’s pre-pretty cool. What made you interested in that, if I may ask?” Silent for a beat, his eyes tracing the way a long limb up ahead shook. Searching for anything that would signal another soul this far into the forest, or if it was just a small animal scurrying as they foraged or fled at the gentle rise and fall of your voices as you shared with one another.

But he was also thinking…picturing you sat beside him in his newly set up work room in his home. The light woodsy, floral scent you seemed to have naturally encompassing him as you watch him walk you through carving and painting the small figures he had begun to sooth his aching hands with. Turning to you, a smile so soft you often aimed at him in full bloom as you relished in sharing his space and the smooth baritone of his voice. He knew you liked it, how it was low and gravely sometimes in the early morning. Coffee smoothing the edges of his sleep and shifting it to velvet that prompted more conversation on the days your eyes dilated upon his arrival at the stables.

“Always so sweet with your questions. Thought we were passed that, I’ll talk with ya. About anything.”

“I really appreciate that, Joel.” You tightened the grip of your hands around the reigns. Thinking about how he didn’t shy away from you like most people, even if he was notoriously hard to connect with when he was out and about in town. So busy at all hours of the day, returning to his home, his and Ellie’s home well into the evening nearly every day. You only noticed because his street was just beyond yours, his large build passing by your windows as you made dinner each night. The urge to call out your open window and offer him a serving always on the tip of your tongue. “It…it means a lo-lot to me.”

“I like our conversations, sweetheart. One of the easiest people to talk to.”

Your breath hitched and you hoped he hadn’t heard it, but the minute swivel of his head to the left told you he had despite his bad hearing in the other. He had only ever called you by your nickname. He only ever called people by the names handed to him along with their introduction. Your skin tingled, pride at earning such an endearment from the man making your head swim and your mind go blank.

“Would love to show you the figurines I make sometime, started it as a way to curb the pain in my aching hands but it’s actually pretty calming.”

“Ye-yeah, I get that. Zone out and create something.”

“Exactly, you got it just right, sweetheart.”

There it was again, the new reference and you felt heat rise up from where it came to live in your chest and up the column of your neck. You…you wouldn’t mind hearing it more or even the invitation to see his home, his work. The niggling feeling of the town taking the occurrence and fueling the fires of gossip surrounding you springing up and tainting the moment. You frowned, not liking that the mere possibility of talk deterred you from the man’s kindness.  

taglist: @joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal @merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon

@keylimebeag @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel @blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

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@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog @r4vens-cl4ws @picketniffler @joeldjarin

[gureumz]

are you mine? (are you? part 2)

rating: explicit

members: sunghoon, heeseung

notes/warnings: fem!reader, INFIDELITY, angst, bf!heeseung, reader cheats on heeseung (again), university setting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampies, mentions of degrading words in a non-sexual manner, i reiterate again: THERE IS CHEATING IN THIS STORY

a/n: i didn't intend to write a part 2 for 'are you?' but a lot of people wanted to know how it would turn out so here it is! this is much shorter than the first part and is mostly just vibes but with the events of the first part, what else is there to say? 🧍🏻‍♀️

read part 1 here

"do you want to meet my parents?"

you tense under heeseung's touch, hand midway down his bare chest. he's laying on his side, facing you, your legs tangled underneath the blanket. the warmth of his body fades away when a silent chill runs down your spine.

"yeah," you let out uneasily, chuckling in an attempt to mask your nerves. "but, not anytime soon."

heeseung's face remains the same, eyes unreadable as he examines your features. he brushes your hair behind your shoulder, running his fingertips down the flesh of your arm.

"why not? it's been almost four months since we started going out," heeseung replies softly, drawing circles on your elbow.

you move your arm away.

"i just don't think i'm ready," you say with an air of finality, hoping that heeseung would drop the subject.

you don't think you'll ever be ready. not after...

heeseung watches you for a few moments. to your surprise, he nods, lips spreading into an understanding smile.

"okay," heeseung chirps. "that's fine."

your chest feels like it's been caved in, relief and dread filling in like heavy sand.

"thank you," you say, smiling up at your boyfriend's face.

heeseung moves closer and plants a chaste kiss on your lips. you respond, endeared by the gentle pass of his mouth on yours, a contrast to how rough he was with you merely minutes before.

"if anything's bothering you, you know you can always tell me right?" heeseung whispers, placing slow, loving kisses on your face.

your heart seems to stop, then picks up beating ten times faster. heeseung isn't very vocal, and this sudden display of affirmation has you reeling.

he knows. he must know.

you laugh, a nervous shake in your voice. a half-baked joke enters your mind.

"anything?" you attempt playfully. heeseung takes the bait and pulls back, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"what if i was secretly a serial killer?" you deadpan, narrowing your eyes at heeseung. a smile tugs at the edges of your lips.

heeseung chuckles, pulling you against his chest. he presses his lips one more time to your forehead.

"then i would gladly be your victim."

---

"i'm yours."

you whimper at these words, pulling him closer to you, face buried in his sturdy shoulder. he moves passionately against you and your whole body erupts in invisible flames.

"all yours," sunghoon reiterates, tongue running along the line of your jaw.

"you don't mean that," you argue weakly.

your cheeks burn up as you realize just how loud the two of you are being. his dorm bed creaking, headboard banging against the wall. you knew it was safer to meet him here, less of a chance that your boyfriend might find something that isn't his.

"i do," sunghoon replies gruffly. "a slave to you, to this—god—to this fucking pussy."

you sob at his words, a mix of arousal, elation, and remorse rising in you. with sunghoon, it just felt too good, too alluring to refuse. he was a lighthouse, standing out in a sea of darkness you didn't even know you were stranded on.

with him, you were, you are shameless.

sunghoon finishes inside you, but not before you reach the finish line first, sans condom this time, as he had so many times since that night in his car.

the thought makes you feel filthy all over, in desperate need of a shower, to scrub all sin from your skin.

"spend the night," sunghoon says once he hands you a towel for you to use. you hold it to your core, wincing when you feel the simultaneous ache and squelch of his release dribbling out of you. you catch it before it stains his sheets.

you've never spent the night here before. you check the digital clock on sunghoons desk and it reads 1:13 a.m.

"i can't. heeseung's coming over early to walk me to class," you inform, twisting the towel in your hands.

sunghoon watches you from where he sits on the edge of his bed. you meet his eyes and you know he can see right through you.

heeseung's not really coming over.

"fine," you finally concede. you pretend not to notice the brief twitch in sunghoon's mouth.

"i kinda want to shower though," you add, eyes flitting over to the bathroom door.

sunghoon grins, leaning close. you wrap your arms around your knees protectively. he stares at your face for a second before kissing you softly, so soft you barely feel it.

"whatever you want," sunghoon says.

---

sunghoon holds you close under the shower now. a million thoughts are racing through your mind. in this space, at this time, it seems like the world has stopped and only the two of you are living beings in existence.

"text me tomorrow," sunghoon reminds, deep voice echoing against the bathroom walls.

you sigh, lifting your head from where it rests on his chest.

"you know i can't do that."

and you can't.

all your exchanges have been through brief, curt phone calls. sunghoon was smart enough to punch in his number on your phone after you were done in the parking lot that night. since then, you've labored over deleting every call log your phone creates after each conversation.

heeseung was none the wiser.

"then call," sunghoon corrects himself. "i love hearing your voice."

ironically, you don't say anything more to that.

---

"i can't believe i've been assigned on a project with him!"

your ears perk up.

the restaurant you're in is empty at this hour, with the rush of lunch ending some time ago. you pick up a french fry from the bowl you and heeseung are sharing, popping the greasy treat into your mouth.

"who?" you question.

"sunghoon."

the initial reaction you have to your boyfriend mentioning the guy you've been fucking behind his back has grown weaker over the past few weeks, but with how often heeseung references sunghoon, it's a surprise you haven't thrown up all over yourself in sheer guilt.

"oh, him again?" you throw out nonchalantly. you busy yourself with your phone, ignoring the way heeseung looks at you quizzically.

"what do you mean 'again'?"

you look at heeseung, trying to portray the perfect mix of exasperation and cluelessness.

"it's always sunghoon this and sunghoon that," you explain. "if i didn't know better, i'd say you were in love with the guy."

ha ha. what a funny joke.

and much to your surprise, heeseung finds this absolutely hilarious. he lets out a genuine, hearty laugh, slamming the table with his palm.

"he wishes," heeseung responds with a snort. "he's always trying to one-up me, copying everything i do, following me around like a puppy. i'd say he was in love with me."

wrong.

you laugh along, finishing off another french fry.

---

"you're trying to steal my boyfriend's life, is that it?"

sunghoon stops typing on his laptop, turning to you from where he's seated at his desk. you're sprawled over his bed, wearing one of his shirts.

"excuse me?" sunghoon says, as if fighting off the urge to laugh.

you slide off the mattress, sauntering over to him. you throw a leg over his lap, sinking down until you're straddling sunghoon. his large hands hold you by your waist. looking down at him at this moment, you feel every fiber of your being light up with a sort of giddiness you've never felt before.

"heeseung told me about how you're always trying to one-up him and 'beat him at his own game', so to speak," you explain.

"and now you're banging me, his girlfriend, every chance you get," you add cheekily, kissing the corner of sunghoon's mouth.

sunghoon exhales, hands traveling up your back, cradling you, holding you close.

"i don't want to steal his life," sunghoon says, voice low.

"even if i came with it?" you question, tilting your head to the side. sunghoon grins, kissing you so suddenly, you fall back against his desk.

"such a clever, clever girl."

you're trembling now.

anticipation. want. need.

"my clever girl," he adds.

---

the first cracks start showing the day you ask sunghoon about his wanting heeseung's life.

you promised to meet heeseung for dinner later that day but not before you rid yourself of sunghoon's shirt, of course. he sent you off with a long, heady kiss against the door of his dorm.

you were distracted for the entirety of the meal. heeseung could tell. you know heeseung could tell. something was eating at you from inside.

it didn't help when heeseung made a mindless comment on the way back to your own dorm room.

"you smell different," he had said.

you surrendered to the idea that you were irrevocably fucked at that point. you made a sorry excuse about borrowing a friend's perfume, nonetheless.

the cracks are spreading, spiderwebs of destruction in the walls of your relationship.

sunghoon is a proud man, not unlike heeseung. he's greedy, selfish, controlled by his desires.

you aren't as careful as you used to be. first, a hair tie, a black one, like any other hair tie. you left it at sunghoon's dorm one day. to this day, he wears it like a badge of honor.

a shirt next. a considerable jump from a hair tie, but sunghoon lent you one, and delirious with sleep, neither of you noticed when you waltzed right out of his room still brandishing the white tee that was obviously too big for you.

you made it under your own covers on your own bed when you finally realized.

lastly, a hickey.

you've done it now. you've fucked up so bad you can already see heeseung razing both heaven and hell as he finds out.

"fuck," you mutter under your breath, staring daggers at your reflection, at the red-purple mark just above your collarbone.

"fuck!"

how could both of you reach this point? practically gallivanting your affair under heeseung's nose. it sickens you. you're disgusted with yourself.

but you know you're only this appalled because you're a hair away from being caught.

you jump when you hear the door to your room slam shut. of course. of course. heeseung has a copy of your dorm room key. you gave it to him a few weeks ago as a sort of milestone in your relationship.

you think to yourself with much irritability that you shouldn't have done that.

the ceiling is caving in. run. run now.

"_________?" heeseung calls out. you hear him approach the bathroom door. he knocks and you feel like screaming.

so polite. heeseung's always so polite.

"i don't feel good, hee," you manage. you definitely feel sick and you want to pass out.

"what's wrong? do you need to go to the hospital?" heeseung asks, voice growing loud with concern. he tries the doorknob.

"no!" you yell a little too loud. "it's just—i just need to be left alone, please."

silence.

you hold your breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

you don't even know who's looking back at you.

"okay," heeseung finally says after a few moments. "let me know if you need anything, please?"

you call out a reply, collapsing to the bathroom floor once you hear your door close once more.

---

you ignore him for a week.

he tries to come over but you shoo him away with one excuse or another. your conversations are contained in dry texts and obligated phone calls. he asks what's wrong. he pleads with you.

nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong!

heeseung seems like a far-off memory now. you haven't properly looked at his face in days. you haven't held him in much longer.

today, he's waiting for you outside your dorm. he looks like shit. dark circles under his eyes, hair disheveled, clothes unironed.

"baby, what's happening?" heeseung asks, not even sparing you any formalities. no 'hey', 'hi', or 'hello'.

he holds you by the arms, still gentle as ever and only now do you see the damage in his eyes. damage you've inflicted.

"i—," you begin. what are you going to say? sorry, i've been fucking sunghoon behind your back for the better part of four months, i let him call me his and i agree when he says he's mine?

"i can't do this anymore," you whisper, head hung low.

"do what? what can't you do?" heeseung demands, voice rising into a desperate whine.

"baby, please," he continues, sinking to his knees. he looks up at you and he's crying.

"what did i do?"

you watch heeseung sob at your feet and it's the most difficult thing you've had to watch thus far. you ball your hands into fists, confused, angry, regretful.

where's that ego now, heeseung? why aren't you mad? be mad! yell at me, blame me for something, tell me how much better off you'd be with someone else! make it easier for me to tell the world that you hurt me!

"you didn't do anything," you say, tears now falling from your own eyes.

heeseung just looks at you. looks at you for what seems like hours. his face, previously crumped up in despair, morphs into an expression of clarity.

he knows.

heeseung pulls himself up from the ground, letting go of you and stepping back, as if shocked by electricity.

"i hope you're happy."

you know what that means.

go fuck yourself. fuck you and whoever the guy is. you're a whore, a bitch, a waste of my time!

you look at heeseung one final time, shoulders shaking as your whole body is racked with sobs.

"i love you," heeseung declares.

he brushes past you, down the stairs, out the lobby, out the exit.

out of your life.

---

you truly are sick. you're vile. you're the worst.

sunghoon knows even before you can say anything. he pulls you into his room and into his arms, whispering nonsense to you as you cry into his chest.

and then you're kissing, hands pulling at clothes, tongues dragging against skin, blood rushing in your ears.

you know this makes sunghoon feel better about himself. you're not stupid. you carried out a secret affair for weeks. of course, you aren't.

you realize now that it's sunghoon who has an ego.

he relishes in the way you cling to him so desperately, basks in the sounds you make, mixed with his name.

"i've got you," sunghoon reassures, arms braced on either side of your head as he fucks you down on his bed.

"please," you whimper out, holding sunghoon's face in your hands. he's going so deep, abusing your hole and it feels so good.

sunghoon kisses you and it's forceful and needy and everything you need at this moment.

"you're mine," sunghoon grunts, your bottom lip caught between his.

you mewl as he lets go of your lip with a tug.

"i'm yours," you say.

sunghoon leaves kisses all over your chest, neck, and jaw. he's getting you closer to your release. you want it, you want it so bad.

"and i'm yours?" sunghoon questions, kissing behind your ear.

"all mine," you confirm.

---

you wake up the next day, limbs heavy and a colossal headache bursting through your head. you feel arms tighten around your midsection and it's a tidal wave of memories of the day before for the next few seconds.

you bury yourself further into the pillows and covers.

sunghoon kisses the nape of your neck and you drift back into sleep.

[luvz-me]

model reader getting booked for a sports campaign with patrick. receiving the phone call from your agent and not even taking a break to think before exclaiming yes.

you get to set, some secluded tennis court, and are immediately ushered to the hair&makeup chair. the team is blabbering about how patrick zweig is always late but praise you for being punctual. saying you've never heard that name would be a lie, but you just never really paid attention to sports. hell, high school physical education was your least favorite subject and you'd rather watch a movie than sit through a full game of... well whatever.

they style you in a cute little white tennis dress with a pleated skirt and a fitted bodice, make you put some white socks and white sneakers on before sending you over to the court under scorching hot sun. you greet the photographer and the creative director who explain the entire vibe of the shoot.

they do a couple test shots while waiting for the main star of the shoot before sitting down on a chair and asking everyone else if the guy is always late. they confirmed and all you could do was sigh and make small talk as you waited.

just as you're about to ask the photographer if he's sure patrick is coming, you see a figure approaching from afar, walking calmly towards you all, making a half-assed apology about how traffic was chaos.

you get up and notice him eyeing you up and down before smiling and introducing himself with a wolfish grin "guess you're gonna be my partner today huh" you cant help bit feel slightly intimidated but you brush it off, following the photographers commands

"remember, this shoot is all about selling not only the clothes but tennis as a sport. and sex sells, so give us that." the man holding the camera explained, earning a loud chuckle from patrick

following the photographer's instructions you both walked over to the net, posing with the rackets.

you feel patrick’s presence beside you, his confidence overbearing. you try to match his energy, holding the racket with a seductive smile. the camera clicks and flashes a couple times capturing you, still separated.

the photographer instructs patrick to move closer to the net, almost to lean against it and to place a hand on your waist. his touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you maintain your composure, keeping the playful yet alluring expression on your face. “perfect,” the photographer praises, urging you both to hold the pose.

patrick leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “you’re good at this,” he murmurs, and you can’t help but blush. you respond with a soft laugh, “just doing my job.”

you were used to this. co-workers flirting with you on set just to get invited out and then see them months later at a casting. not that you didn't take part in the banter but at this point, patrick made you wait for so long in the sun that he had to do better to get your full attention.

“okay, let’s take a break for an outfit change,” the creative director announces. you head back to the dressing room, where they hand you another outfit, this one more daring. it’s a shorter skirt, tighter top, and a visor to shield your eyes from the sun.

as you change, you think about patrick’s flirtatious comments. he's hot but he’s going to have to step up his game, literally. you step back onto the court, feeling the new outfit accentuate every curve enhancing your confidence

patrick is already there, waiting. he’s changed into shorts, and a t-shirt hung from his shoulders, showing off his athletic build. he looks you up and down, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. “looking good,” he says with a smirk.

“thanks,” you reply, giving him a coy smile.

the photographer and creative director reposition you both for the next set of shots. this time, the poses are more intimate, emphasizing physical connection. the photographer instructs patrick to stand behind you, his arms around you as if guiding your swing. his arms flexing against you

his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your clothes. his hands are firm on your waist, guiding you through the motion of a tennis swing. “keep your eye on the ball,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear.

you can feel your heart racing, but you keep your focus, following the photographer’s commands. the camera clicks.

“great job, you two. now let’s try something a bit more daring and then we can wrap this up”

the photographer tells patrick to sit on the ground, his back against the net, legs slightly apart. you are instructed to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of his hips, your bodies pressed close together.

patrick instinctively places his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer as you lean into him. your hands rest on his shoulders for balance, and the photographer asks you to tilt your head slightly, exposing your neck. patrick’s eyes follow the curve of your neck, his gaze intense and smoldering.

“perfect,” the photographer says, snapping several shots. “now, let’s add the racket for some dynamic action.”

you pick up the racket and hold it with one hand, resting it on patrick’s shoulder. patrick’s hands slide down your waist to your hips, his grip firm. his eyes lock onto yours.

“beautiful. now, patrick, lean in as if you’re about to kiss her neck,” the photographer instructs.

patrick’s lips hover just above your skin, his breath warm against your neck. you can feel the tension building, the proximity and the anticipation adding to the intensity of the shoot. you tilt your head further, giving the camera a sultry look, lips slightly parted. one of your hands on his chest, slowly travelling down his abs. just for the shot you thought to yourself.

you had to keep reminding yourself this was just a job. only a job. strictly a job.

“fantastic! let’s get a few more shots like this.”

patrick’s hands slide up your back, holding you close as you both follow the photographer’s commands. you feel his fingers slipping under the hem of your top, each pose is more intimate than the last, the line between professional and personal blurring.

finally, the photographer calls for a wrap. you and patrick stay in the pose for a moment longer, the energy between you almost tangible. you pull away and earn a groan of disappointment from him. you walk back to the dressing room and chugging from a water bottle. and briefly look back to see zweig adjusting his boner. you giggle to yourself.

suddenly, you hear hurried footsteps behind you, and you turn to see patrick catching up.

“you were incredible,” he says, his voice low and genuine, but there's a hint of cockiness in his tone. he runs a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.

“thanks,” you reply, smiling, feeling a rush of heat from his compliment.

“give me your number. i need to see you again, outside of this shoot.”

you raise an eyebrow, “you athletes always this forward with the models you work with?” you ask, a smirk playing on your lips. "i'm not gonna fuck you just because we did all that back there."

patrick chuckles, not missing a beat. “aw.. why not?” he replies forcing a pleading look. he notices when you start to walk away "oh my god that was a joke.." it wasn't. "come on.."

"sorry, but i don't fall for the 'athlete charm' that easily," you retort with a grin "but alright, ill give you my number" just out of boredom, you thought. nothing else (liar!) "i walk for Versace tomorrow and i'll be at the afterparty so i won't be able to go out" saying this just to make sure he doesn't get his hopes up

patrick's grin widens, his eyes smoldering with determination. "oh i'll be there, donatella is friends with my mother" he promises, his voice low. "can't wait to see you strut your stuff on that runway."

is he trying to outwit you? of fucking course a professional tennis player like him had to have insanely rich parents. "okay, um... see you there then" you smile trying to hide your annoyance "you have to wait till the after party to see me"

"oh, i'm patient," he murmurs, stepping closer until you can feel the heat radiating off him. "but when that afterparty starts…" his voice trails off suggestively, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

your breath catches as his hand ghosts over yours, sending tingles up your arm. "alright well, i need to change and get home, so excuse me" you say regaining composure "maybe i'll let you buy me a drink at the afterparty," you say with a sly smile

patrick chuckles softly behind you "looking forward to it," he replies, his tone carrying a promise of what's to come.

tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

fashion week is in full swing, with models, designers, and makeup artists all working in a synchronized dance.

the show goes off without a hitch, and you feel a rush of adrenaline as you strut down the runway, the flashing lights, applause and upbeat music boosting your confidence, posing for a few seconds at the end of it before walking back backstage and getting in line again to close the show.

it's fucking chaos backstage, assistants yelling at eachother and all you can think about is the afterparty. not because of patrick... to be honest you had forgotten about him already. like yeah he was one of the hottest guys you have ever seen but he wasn't the first to try anything and him being an athlete wasn't helping his case. you weren't trying to become a WAG so soon being that you're a promising new face. he also hadn't texted after exchanging numbers.

scratch that completely because the moment you even thought about him texting you you hear the faint sound of the notification from your purse. you dig your hand in and pull out a bunch of things - earphones, a pack of gum, cigarettes... messy girl - before finally grabbing your phone.

patrick: front row at the show. you should just bring that dress to the after party, save time ;)

of course he had to type like that. asshole. you huff and throw your phone back inside your cluttered bag, hurriedly changing into your night outfit. a white corset top alongside some black leather lace up shorties, black tights and some slightly heeled boots. you decided to keep your hair as is, because who would want to waste a professionally done hair-do? you didn't dare to change the makeup either. a black smokey eye was perfect for the event.

you leave the venue for the show hurriedly, saying goodbye to all your friends as you hail a cab back to your model apartment. you drop your bag there before hailing yet another cab to go to the afterparty.

the place was so luxurious you almost felt out of place until you saw some of your friends. you rush over to them, your faces lighting up as you embrace, laughter and excited chatter filling the air. you hang out for a bit before you walk off to the bar, promising to find them by the dance floor later.

you're about to ask the bartender for a mojito when you feel the warmth of a hand on your shoulder, fingers reaching to caress the curve of your neck. you turn back abruptly almost blurting out a "what do you think you're doi-" before cutting yourself off upon seeing who it was.

patrick stands there, his trademark grin in place. "i said i'd pay for the damn drink yesterday, or did you forget?" he teases "anyway" slightly guiding you to move out of the way "a whiskey sour and a...?"

"mojito." you repeat in annoyance "actually ask for 2 already" if he was gonna buy you a drink and startle you like that he might as well double it

"aight," he replies, never once letting go of that grin. aight, you repeat in your head, forcing yourself not to mock him. you have to be nice, he just got you two drinks. at once even.

patrick hands you the mojitos and gestures towards the dark leather couches in the corner. "let's take a seat," he suggests, his eyes twinkling with that same mischievous energy.

you follow him to the couches sitting down, the soft leather sinking under your weight.

"busy girl didn't even answer my text. nice shorts" he quips, almost cornering you

"you knew i was coming.. why would i answer?" you say softly batting your lashes and sipping from the straw, seemingly unamused by his attempts at getting closer

you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to maintain composure when he doesn't divert his gaze. "flattery won't get you anywhere, zweig."

"who said anything about flattery?" patrick counters, his voice low. "i'm just stating the obvious."

you arch an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "yeah, for a pro athlete you don't seem very good at the straightforwardness thing." giggling and cutting through the tension "watch my drink for me"

patrick grins, watching you as you slide off the couch and head to the dance floor. he remains seated, his eyes following your every move with an amused expression. you lose yourself in the music for a while with your girl friends exchanging the newest gossip

"ugh, i don't know, he's obviously super hot and is into me but..." you say over the music, your voice almost cracking trying to make your friends hear you. they scold you saying it's patrick fucking zweig, telling you to let loose, and to go for it. you dance to one more song before dipping "i'm thirsty, gonna go back to grab my drink"

you strut towards patrick once again, who's lounging comfortably on the couch, his arms sprawled, eyes never leaving you. his fingers fidget with a pack of lucky strikes, a cigarette hanging from his lips. seeing your glance, he wordlessly hands you one, his lighter already poised, but a stressed employee interrupts with a warning that smoking inside is forbidden unless you use the smoking area.

patrick swiftly rises, grabbing your hand without a word and leading you towards the door. as he opens it, revealing a crowded smoking area typical of a fashion event, he smirks to himself, feeling one step closer to his goal.

"so, guess we have to brave the cold outside... or," patrick suggests with a playful glint in his eye, "we could head back to my place."

"your place sounds warmer" you concede, slipping your hand into his

outside, you find his van waiting discreetly in the shadows, slightly shielded from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. you duck behind patrick as he opens the door, cameras catch a glimpse of you both. once inside, the atmosphere shifts, the air thick with anticipation. he's gleeful once he realizes his stupid plan worked, cig still dancing on his lips he gets the pack of lucky strikes and places it back. zweig instructs his driver to go.

his hands playfully pull at the thin fabric of your thighs during the whole drive, sliding up and down to the hem of your shorts. your breath hitches, scooting his hand away a few times, trying to be discreet but his banter with the driver isn't helping your case at all.

the car finally stops by a luxurious apartment complex, he grabs your hand again and leads you off the car into the elevator. clicking on floor number 5 and frantically pressing the closing doors button. you lean back on the cold steel surface, eyeing him up and down with a smile "had to drag me back to your place for a smoke huh? addiction is a bitch zweig"

patrick takes a step towards you, cupping your face "such a smarty pants you are" he mocks in a higher tone before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. you quickly oblige, parting them and letting him in. the kiss is full of pent up tension, his hand cheekily squeezing your ass as the elevator door opens "come."

he slams the door open dragging you inside, almost making you trip. the moment the door clicks shut, he pushes you against it, his body pressing into yours taking a second to admire you. the rustle of his jacket coming off snapping you out of it.

"thought we were only coming here to smoke?" you raise an eyebrow, voice barely above a whisper

"oh fuck you" he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky. a smile creeping in. patrick wasn't used to your attitude at all

"i know you want to" softly reaching for his hair, pulling it just enough so he hisses and before you know it you're thrown over his shoulder squealing and being dropped onto the bed. his body now looming over yours, hands slipping under your top, pushing it up and over your head. no bra.

his eyes rake over your bare skin, fingers caressing your nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. back arching hoping to feel as much of him as you could. tugging at his shirt he smirks and leans back to take it off. eyes following his happy trail

patrick leaves a trail of kisses on your torso leading to your shorts, untying them with his teeth and then slowly pulling them off your legs revealing some black panties "you dont even know the amount of restraint i had not to fucking jack off on set in between the wardrobe changes. couldn't stop thinking about your body on mine"

"yeah?" you reach for his pants unbuttoning them

"fuck yeah, open that mouth up f'me don't be greedy" pressing his fingers on your cheeks and spitting into it. lightly slapping you when you swallow with a smile "holy shit.. "

your eyes widen when he just takes everything off. you sit up and patrick takes no time to grab a fistful of your hair guide his cock to your lips "now you're gonna be good and take it" he commands. you lick around the tip, cupping his balls, eyes on his and slowly begin to move back and forth when he just pushes your head in on his hairy crotch. eyes filling with tears as you gag on it. he groans, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrusts deeper into your throat

after a few intense moments, he pulls back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft. he smirks down at you, wiping the saliva away with his thumb. "fuck you're better than i ever imagined"

you could cum right then and there at the sight

he pulls you up, flipping you onto your stomach and you just arch back out of instinct, your ass wiggling against him. extending your arms on the bed, almost stretching. you feel his hands on your hips, pulling down your panties, leaving you completely exposed. he spits and spreads it with his thumb, caressing your puckering hole all the way until he reaches your pussy. lowering himself and licking a generous strip of it. "please" you bite your lip, your pride battling with your desire. but the ache between your legs wins. "please, patrick. fuck me."

"so fucking wet for me" his voice hoarse

he thrusts into you with a force that makes you gasp, filling you completely. he sets a relentless pace, his hands gripping your hips as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. "so good" you mewl gripping the sheets

your moans mix with his, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. you can feel every inch of him, the roughness of his thrusts, the way he hits that perfect spot inside you over and over.

he reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. the combination sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you, your walls clenching around him.

with a final, deep thrust, he follows you over the edge, his hot release filling you. "i love this tight pussy of yours" he collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily, the room filled with the scent of sex. he lingers inside for a while, until he catches his breath and pulls out.

you slowly turn and lay on your back reaching for your aching slit and bringing one of your fingers to your mouth, tasting him as he gazes with his mouth wide open

"you're gonna fucking kill me" he says, still out of breath

"you asked for it" you grin at his words, feeling a rush of satisfaction. "and here i thought athletes had the stamina to keep up," you tease, your voice breathy.

"whatever,” he begins, “time for the smoke break” he reaches for his nightstand, grabbing the pack of lucky strikes and his lighter handing you one.

[kyeomszone]

fever ○ lee dokyeom

tags. vampire! seokmin. biting. blood drinking. dub con (?). public sex. fingering. penetrative sex (vaginal).

Synopsis: Knowing who your boss was, you knew you would encounter some rather eccentric groups of people. What you could've never predicted was encountering an actual vampire.

A tired sigh falls from your lips as you take a seat at the bar, feeling thin tendrils of exhaustion curling under your skin. You raise your hand, flagging down the bartender to order yourself something light to drink so you don’t promptly fall asleep.

You give the bartender a polite smile as you order a mojito, your nails drumming against the cool glass of the countertop, waiting for the man to return with your drink. Your eyes wander along the hall, taking note of the guests and making sure that the expressions on their faces are nothing short of pleased.

It was the first gala that you had been given the complete reigns of and you’d be damned if there was anything out of place or if the guests had anything to complain about.

You thank the bartender when he sets your drink down in front of you, going back to people-watching. A frown tugs at your lips when you spot your boss standing in the corner, a strained smile on the usually bright man but before you can stand up and make your way to him to prode at what, Mingyu is approached by another man.

You can’t see the other man’s face, just the side profile but even that is not clearly visible. He’s slightly shorter than your boss but just as broad, shoulders accentuated by the blazer he’s wearing and you can see the shape of his nose, long and straight and one that you could climb.

You take a sip of your drink, realising where your thoughts are headed. If it had been any other day, you would’ve let your mind venture in that direction but today, you couldn’t be distracted. However,━ it’s not a crime to look.

You take slow sips of your drink, watching Mingyu talk with the man, a grin on your boss’s lips, a laugh falling from his lips and then, he’s looking at you, hand raised as he beckons you over. You bite back a sigh, leaving your drink at the bar as you walk over to him, your steps slow so as to not trip over the hem of your dress or the too-tall heels you’re wearing.

“Lee Seokmin,” The man introduces himself with a charming smile after you do, the name immediately grabbing your attention because you know it━ know that name. This whole gala had been for your boss’s mentor, a month of you working yourself to the bone for a celebratory gala for Mingyu’s mentor, Lee Seokmin.

You subtly glance at your boss who nods and you have to bite back the barrage of questions that now sit on the tip of your tongue.

But where you had expected greying hair, sagging skin and wrinkles, the man before you looked barely older than your boss. A head of dark locks styled into a half part, skin a rich shade of honey, moles littering his skin cheeks, jaw and neck and he’s handsome, a little too handsome.

The suit he’s wearing hugs his form well, trousers making his long legs appear longer, blazer stretched around his arms and back and a simple t-shirt underneath that gave away to rich expanse of skin and you can’t help but swallow when you spot the mole that sits just above a pec.

There is almost an ethereal glow to him. The pull you feel toward him is borderline magnetic and━ alluring, and it amplifies the longer you stare.  

“Oh,” you blink, your cheeks flushing when you realise your thoughts had trailed off to that direction again. You clear your throat, putting on your best smile, ignoring the way his gaze seems to burn into you. “I hope you liked the gala.”

“I did, I was just telling Mingyu that,” Seokmin says with a grin, his smile all teeth and you can see hints of sharp canines━ too sharp to be human and oh…

Oh.

The beauty to him that looked uncanny, the sharp teeth, the fact that he had been Mingyu’s mentor since your boss was a kid and yet Seokmin looked barely older than him?

You knew of the existence of vampires, knew that these creatures of the night walked alongside humans, breathed and lived among them and despite the horror novels and shows, they weren’t more beast than human but you can’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine, thin tendrils of fear curling in your chest.

“You have nothing to fear,” Seokmin’s voice is closer to you, breath fanning against your cheek, nose brushing against your ear. You can feel your whole body tense at his proximity, your heart thudding in your chest. Slowly but surely, your heart starts to slow down, your skin soaking up the dulcet tone of his voice. The erratic beat of your heart grows steadier and steadier by the beat. 

You swallow the lump in your throat when you realise that it’s just you and him now, Mingyu nowhere to be seen and internally, you curse your boss for leaving you with Seokmin. His touch his gentle against the bare skin of your back, nails racking your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Mingyu said you were smart,” There is an amused tinge to his syllables, “Suppose I should’ve expected you to figure it out,” his words have now taken a honeyed tone and you can’t help but feel like 

“Don’t hurt me,” You can’t help but choke out, your voice shaking.

Seokmin lets out a laugh, the sound soft and like twinkling bells, “Sweetheart, you’d be the last person I hurt. Don’t think Mingoo-yah would appreciate it if I do anything to his precious secretary.”

You swallow and nod, letting yourself relax slightly. His hand doesn’t leave your back, fingers gently brushing against your skin and this time━ your heartbeat picks up for an entirely different reason. Now that the fear has washed away, you properly account for the close proximity, the way his body was a breath away from yours to the point where you can feel the heat off of his skin.

You blink, looking up at him only to see that he is staring back at you, dark set of eyes boreing into your skin and you can’t help but flush at the intensity in them. You lick your lips, suddenly finding your mouth incredibly dry and you desperately try to ignore the way his eyes seem to darken further, tracing the movement of your tongue.

“Mr Le━”

“Seokmin, love” The man interrupts, thumb brushing against your bottom lip, “Just Seokmin.”

Your brain seems unable to respond as you just dumbly nod, staring at him wide-eyed as he leans down, lips millimetres apart. “I saw you staring, you know,” Seokmin’s voice sounds darker now but doesn’t lose the honeyed quality, “could smell the arousal as you walked over here.”

You flush further at his words, cheeks on fire and skin taking on a pink hue. Gathering whatever confidence you had, you lift your hand up, curling it around the base of his neck as you tick an eyebrow, “and what will you do about it?”

Seokmin grins, sharp and shark-like before he surges forward and captures your lips, sharp teeth sinking into your bottom lip making you gasp. A beat and you find his tongue in your mouth, fingers digging into the skin of your waist as the other cradles your jaw. His kiss is all-consuming, the taste of him on your tongue almost dizzying and you feel like you're drunk.

Distantly, you remember the fact that vampire saliva has the same quality as an aphrodisiac but in this moment, you could careless.

His lips trail down from your jaw, nipping at the skin of your jaw━ biting more than kissing as he moves down and down until his mouth is pressed against your jugular, licking against your pulse, canines scraping at your skin and knowing that he could━ at any moment━ sink his teeth in and leave you at an ich of your life, makes a jolt of thrill run down your spine.

It’s stupid, to give yourself so completely to a predator, have yourself at his mercy but you find all your inhibitions gone, caution thrown to the wind as you try your best to curl into the heat of him.

You feel him move, pushing you back until your back hits the wall and his hand slips under the slit of your dress, thumb playing with the hem of your panties and fingers groping the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

“Seokmin━” you gasp out at the action, eyes snapping open as you stare up at him but he doesn’t move, sucking at your pulse point as his fingers slip under the lace of your panties, fingers running along your fold. “Seokmin, we’re in━”

“No one will look,” Seokmin states when he pulls away from your neck, his fingers dragging the soft material of your panties down until it falls to the floor. “just be quiet, love, can’t control sound like I do light.” 

You nod, biting your bottom lip to hold in a whimper when he presses his thumb to your clit, two of his fingers slowly pushing into your aching hole. But what has a moan almost slip out of your throat is his teeth━ fangs scrapping against the delicate skin of you neck almost hard enough to bleed.

“May I?” Seokmin’s voice is huskier now, a dark undertone that has you weak in the knees and you find yourself nodding fervently nodding, even though an hour earlier, it would have you high-tailing it out.

Seokmin smiles, presses a soft kiss before sinking his teeth in, breaking skin and causing blood to gush out and you?

You feel like you’re in heaven. Lightheaded and fuzzy in the best way possible, heat coiling in your stomach and you can feel an orgasm approaching just from the euphoria that flooded your veins when he sunk his teeth in. Your mouth falls open, head falling back on the wall with a silent moan, back arching as his mouth keeps sucking, the coils in your stomach finally snapping as your orgasm washes over you━ as evident by the way you clench around Seokmin’s fingers.

He stops drinking when your body sags against his, black spots dancing in your vision. You whine at the empty feeling in your whole when he pulls his fingers, blinking when he delicately holds your chin up, making you look him in the eye.

“Okay?” Seokmin asks, his voice soft and you find yourself entranced by the crimson stain on his lips. When you nod, he leans down again, lips slotting against yours and you groan at the taste of copper on his tongue. 

Your breath hitches as he effortlessly lifts you up, your dress pooling at the back, the slit revealing both your legs when you wrap them around his waist. You hands curl around his shoulder, nails digging into the deliciously hard muscles of his back.

“Your not fucking me out in public,” You hiss, realising what was to happen next when you feel his bulge against your core. Despite your words, you can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of him taking you right here and now, in an open ballroom with minimum shadows covering you. It fill you with shame but the throb in your cilt is too much to ignore.

“Aren’t I?” Seokmin’s voice is smug when he speaks, one hand on your waist while the other works to unbuckle his belt and undo the button of his trousers. “No one will see us, love, not unless you make noise.”

“Wha━” you question ending with a gasp as he pushes himself into you, the thick girth of his cock resisting slightly despite the wetness in you and despite your best efforts to hold a moan back, you can’t help yourself as your head falls back, a low sound falling from the back of your throat.

“Seokmin,” you moan out as he keeps pushing himself in, feeling each of the ridges and veins drag on your spongy walls. You’re overwhelmed by the feel of him, almost impossibly full when he finally bottoms out. Your brain barely works, mouth open and drool gathering as he shallowly fucks into you. Pulling back just the smallest bit before pushing back in. With each thrust, he pulls back more and more until his hips are slamming against yours, pace fast and rough, uncaring of you as he chases his own pleasure. His mouth finds itself on your neck again, teeth scrapping against the somewhat healed bite to reopen it.

And he’s drinking again, having you in the most intimate way possible, consuming everything you have to offer and it’s exhilarating and had your veins flooding in pleasure. Your body arches, presses against him when his thrusts grow erratic with each drop of your blood until he gives one final hard thrust and spills in you.

When he pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants, you can feel a trail of cum run down your legs and you’re sure you would’ve collapsed onto the floor if not for his hold on you.  It’s filthy and you’ve never felt this used in your life but you also can’t help but wish for more.

It seemed as if Seokmin could read your mind as he smiles again, the same, sharp shark-like one that has fear and arousal curling in you. “Would Mingyu mind if I steal you for the rest of the night?”

At your answer, Seokmin's smile widens.