#despite the teasing you know she cares about him deep down :3

[cosmicporos]

What would Arcane characters call their partner? What pet/nicknames would they use?

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE! Thank you anon :3

Synopsis: A lot of little cut scenarios where arcane characters call you by cute pet names!

Characters: Sevika, Vander, Silco, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor

((awkward Ekko x reader, Teasing Viktor x reader (he calls you an airhead…))

Warning: Angst for Silco, called you “Pet” but ends with comfort!

Not proofread

Sevika

Nicknames for you: Darling, Dear, Sweet thing, Babe, Dove.

Okay maybe I’m over sentimental but imagine her calling you Dove because you bring her so much peace in life. So you’re quite literally her little peace dove.

Sevika leaned against the bar, her mechanical arm resting on the counter as she watched you move around the room. It wasn't anything special-just you tidying up after a long day-but to her, it was everything. "You know," she started, her voice low and gravelly, "you've got this way of makin' the world feel... quieter."

You paused, glancing at her with a small smile. "Yeah? That a good thing?"

She smirked, pushing off the bar to walk toward you. "It's a damn miracle, is what it is. You don't know what it's like Dove… how loud it gets up here." She tapped her temple with a finger, her gaze softening. "But then you show up, and it's like everything just... stops."

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in her voice, but you kept your focus on folding a stray cloth. "I didn't think I was doing anything special."

Sevika snorted, stepping closer. "That's the thing. You don't even try, and still... you're it for me. My peace. My little Dove."

Vander

Nicknames for you: Peach, Love, Sweet Pea, Darling, Sunshine, Lass/Lad.

The Last Drop was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of mugs and background chatter of conversation was replaced by the occasional cough or sniffle from the makeshift beds spread around the common room. Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Vi lay bundled in blankets, their fevered faces flushed as they sipped the herbal tea Vander had brewed.

"Peach," Vander called softly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness as he approached you. You were perched on a low stool, dabbing a cool cloth against Powder's forehead. He knelt beside you, resting his broad hand on your shoulder. "You've been fussin' over them all day. Why don't you take a break, huh? Let me handle things for a while."

"I'm fine," you said, though your hands trembled slightly as you wrung out the cloth."They need us."

He tilted his head, giving you that steady, knowing look of his. "And I need you to take care of yourself, Peach. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Powder stirred, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. "Don't go," she mumbled, her voice weak.

You smoothed her hair back, glancing at Vander. "See? They need me."

Vander sighed, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite himself. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Alright, Peach. We'll do this together, then."

Silco

Nicknames for you: Darling, Precious, lovely, Pet, Beloved.

After Jinx’s fiasco over at Topside it was obvious Silco was more than simply stressed.

In fact tension in the room was palpable, suffocating as it weighed down on your chest. Silco's piercing gaze bore into you, his lips pressed into a thin line. You'd overstepped-at least, in his mind-and now his sharp tongue was letting you know it.

"Stay out of matters you don't understand, pet," he snapped, the word cutting and cold as it left his mouth.

You flinched, the sting of his words settling deep. Your jaw clenched, and you refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cracked edge of the table.

“I was—I was only thinking about Jinx.” You gulped down the bile that burned in your throat. “Temporary keeping her from missions is keeping her safe.” You spoke finally looking up at him with your wet pathetic eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Silco's breath hitched as he realized what he'd said, the regret settling in almost immediately. His tone had been cruel, and the look on your face drove a pang of guilt through his chest.

“I apologize…” he said softly, his voice no longer harsh. "That was... uncalled for." He spoke as he stood up, fixing his cuffs as he walks over towards you.

Silco stepped closer until he was within arm's reach. "I shouldn't have said that. You didn't deserve it," he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You mean too much to me for me to speak to you that way."

When you still didn't respond, he hesitated for a moment before tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his mismatched ones.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his tone sincere. "You are not my pet. You are my beloved. The only one who stands beside me, who understands me."

Caitlyn

Nicknames for you: Petal, Cheeky one, Muffin, Trouble, Dearest.

Flour completely dusted the countertop and your face as you tried to knead the dough. Caitlyn stood across from you, her sleeves rolled up, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Petal," she said, tilting her head, "you're supposed to knead it, not wrestle it."

You huffed, brushing flour from your cheek. “It's sticking to my hands! I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to tackle this.”

Caitlyn chuckled and walked over, gently taking your hands in hers. "Here, let me show you." She guided your movements, her hands warm and steady.

When the dough finally started to cooperate, you couldn't resist smearing a bit of flour on her cheek. She froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Trouble," she murmured, her voice teasing.

You grinned, backing away. "You love it."

Her soft laugh filled the kitchen as she grabbed a handful of flour. "Oh, I do. But you're not getting away with that."

Ekko

Nicknames for you: Firefly, Sugar, babe, baby, Cutie

You sat on a spinning chair in ekko’s workshop mindlessly spinning while watching him work. He was trying to fix a circuit board, but his focus seemed to drift in your direction. You caught him glancing at you a few times, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking of something important.

After a moment of silence, Ekko cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering slightly. He set down his tools and looked at you with a small smile, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey, uh... can I tell you something?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden and strange behavior. "Sure. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well, I've been meaning to call you something... I dunno, it's just, uh, you're always so sweet, you know?" He glanced up at you briefly, cheeks turning faintly pink. “So, I was thinking... Sugar?"

There was a long, awkward pause. You blinked, processing the nickname, unsure how to respond. "Sugar?" you repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

Ekko's face reddened even more. "Yeah, I mean-because, uh, you're sweet... like sugar? You know?" He shrugged, clearly flustered now. "It's not like, weird, right?"

You couldn't help it you laughed, the sound light and teasing, but not unkind. "I don't know, Ekko. It's a bit... unexpected," you said, still grinning.

His gaze shifted, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Okay, okay, I get it. That was dumb, huh? Just trying to be smooth, but I guess it's not my thing." He shifted uncomfortably.

against his arm, your smile softening. "It's cute," you said, voice warm. "But I think you can do better."

He met your eyes, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his awkwardness. "Yeah? You think so?…Well, I'll keep working on it then."

Viktor

Nicknames for you: Beautiful, Trinket, Dearest, Cheeky, Airhead, Sweetling.

You were fiddling with a complicated piece of tech, the gears and wires all tangled in a way that made your focus drift. Viktor stood beside you, watching with a raised eyebrow as you muttered to yourself.

"Careful, darling," he teased with a sly smile, his voice smooth and mature. "An airhead might break something important."

You shot him a playful glare, a little flustered. “I'm not an airhead! Besides…I'm working on it!" you said, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice.

Viktor chuckled, reaching over and gently fixing the wires with practiced hands. His tone softened as he met your gaze. "I didn't mean it, Sweetling. You're far from an airhead. You just... get a little lost in your thoughts sometimes." He smiled warmly. “And I think it's kind of endearing."

You felt your heart warm at his change in tone, the teasing replaced by something far more tender. "Geez thanks, Viktor." You pouted and sighed out quietly.

He smiled and chuckled softly, his hand now brushing against yours. "Anything for you, Sweetling."

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT<3 thanks so much for all the support on my last post :>

FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REQUEST AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED IT! (I love reading comments and any feedback!)

[pixelatedraindrops]

Getting sick from the rain? Jeez. You’re so pitiful, master…

…but as your adorable partner I can’t just leave you to suffer. So don't worry, I’ll help you out!

I’m forever haunting you, in sickness and in health 🌡️👻

[inkedells]

cowboy!logan teasing his girl when he figures out she likes him sweaty and messy from work...

[god him in this gif has me scratching the walls]

pairing: cowboy!logan x f!reader

wc: 587

Cowboy!Logan coming home to you after a long day of herding cattle.

His face is shining with sweat, his scent deliciously musky. Not far off from how he looks when he’s just orgasmed, you think, despite your best efforts not to let your mind go there. Dark denim stained with mud at the hem, his boots in a similar state. Plaid button-up tucked into a fat belt, the sleeves rolled up his thick, veiny forearms.

Yeah, you’re gonna make sure he fucks you. As soon as possible.

“Missed you, baby,” He says with the softest barely-there smile. He slides off his dirty boots by the entryway, mumbling an apology for the mess he’s causing. “And I’ll clean that up soon as I’m outta the shower.” It’s said with a grin and raised hands, as if he’s expecting you to scold him.

But you’re too busy staring at his arms.

“Something wrong?” He asks, his smile falling as he walks toward you.

“Don’t shower,” You say simply, quietly. You meet his eyes and watch his confusion transform into understanding—No, smug understanding. There’s a lump in your throat now, but you swallow it down quickly and stand up straighter. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

He’s smirking, even as he speaks. “‘Cause I’m dirty. And I stink. Don’t wanna ruin that pretty dress.” He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your body in the thin, sheer fabric. Of course, you go red in the face at his words and his scrutinizing eye, and of course, he takes it as his cue to crowd you until you’re backed up against the kitchen counter.

“But…” He starts, placing a calloused hand flat on the expanse of skin just above the swell of your breast. “You,” He pushes his fingers under your strap, “Don’t,” slides it off your shoulder, “Care.” He rushes to give your bare breast a long, firm squeeze, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you when he does. But then he pauses his actions to whisper teasingly, "Do you?"

You shake your head immediately, and he starts back up again. He plays with you, slow and methodical and loving, yet perfectly aggressive. Like a man. 

While you watch his hand, hypnotized, Logan is intently observing your face and subconsciously mimicking your expressions. When your eyebrows knit, so do his. When your mouth falls open, so does his. And when you’ve only just begun to lean in for a kiss, he’s leaning in the rest of the way, capturing your mouth with searing hunger as he moves his lips against you expertly.

He’ll carry you into your shared bedroom eventually. Make sweet love to you until the clouds shielding the moon settle into a low fog in preparation for the morning dew. Until you’re just as sweaty as he is, until the only words coming out of your mouth are "I love you," and, "Don’t stop," and, "Faster."

And it’s that last command which consumes him as he kneels between your legs right here, right now, stroking you over your underwear while he fantasizes about fingering you open. He'll take his time with it, do it properly, so he can fuck you as deep and hard as he wants to much later—after your greedy pussy is inevitably tired of the decorum involved with simply making love for hours. You’ll want to fuck, dirty and messy and rough, and he’ll wonder how such a sweet girl could get so drunk on cock. He would bother spitting the question at you between sharp, relentless thrusts, if he didn't already know the answer. Only for you, Logan.

a/n: my requests are open! gimme all ur ideas <3 also reblog to support ur fav authors!

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

LATE NIGHT, SAFE HANDS.

• jude bellingham x gf!reader

• warnings: just the horrible title. (Also, English is not my first language!)

• summary: Jude Bellingham’s quiet night is interrupted when his girlfriend arrives home drunk after a night out. Amid playful chaos, he faces the ultimate challenge: getting her to finally sleep, revealing the warmth and humor of their relationship.

PART 2: EARLY MORNING, SWEET KISSES

His girlfriend had gone out with her group of friends tonight. She´d had been looking forward to it all week. They had been together for about eight months, and things between them felt easy, natural, despite their busy lives. Jude was head over heels for her, and though they weren´t living together yet, they spend a lot of time at each other´s places. He trusted her completly, however he couldn´t help the subtle flicker of concern that burned in his chest.

Earlier that evening, she had sent him a picture of her outfit for the night, teasing him with a playful "Rate it out of 10." He remembered grinning at the sight―she looked stunning in that red dress that left Jude staring at his phone for way longer tham he´d like to admit. His reply was a teasing, "Solid 11. You´re gonna have every guy at that club staring at you. Take care, yeah?"

She´d reply with a string of laughing emojis and a lot of hearts of different colors and added, "Promise! Love ya."

Hours passed, and with her occasional messages about how much fun she was having and how the club had "grwat music bt terriblw cocktailss" and a few blurred slefies, Jude couldn´t help but laugh before texting her to be careful, trying not to admit that maybe he was a little bit unease.

Around 1:30 a.m, the messages and slurred audios from her had started to slow down, but he wasn´t too worried. He figured she was just caught up in the fun, dancing with her friends and enjoying the night. After all, it was still early. Still, he checked his phone more frequently, feeling a little restless as the minutes ticked by without a response.

"Everything okay?" he´d sent about an hour ago, hoping for an answer.

Nothing.

Jude sighed, staring at the screen for a moment before tossing the phone back onto the couch beside him. He told himself not to worry. She was probably, no, she was definitely fine, just lost in the music, and her phone was somewhere deep in her bag. But a small voice in the back of his mind kept telling him otherwise.

He tried not to be that boyfriend. You know, the one who texts every five minutes to check up on her. But as the clock ticked closer to 3 a.m. and still no word from her, his foot started tapping nervously against the wooden floor. He shot her another text, "You good? Getting kinda late..." Jude stared at the screen, waiting for those familiar typing dots to appear, but after two minutes of nothing, he sighed. He set his phone down, leaning back against the cushions, trying to keep his mind out of it.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

By the time it hit twenty, Jude was seriously considering calling her. Just to check, he told himself. He had refreshed the chat multiple times but there was no response. He unlocked his phone and was about to hit her name when the sound of the doorbell cut through the quiet.

Frowning, Jude stood up, wondering who could be visiting at this time of night. As he approached the door, a series of knocks came, maybe a little frantic. His heart race just a little. Who could possibly be knocking at this hour?

He then swung the door open and froze.

There she was, standing in front of him, her makeup smudged, her hair slightly tousled, and that same red dress clinging maybe a little bit higher than when she went out. But what really stood out was the way she was standing, as if she was going to fall at any minute, with sparkling eyes and cheeks flushed―whether from the cold air or the alcohol, Jude wasn´t sure.

But the smile she gave him? Bright as ever.

"Juuuuude!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up as if she´d just seen him for the first time in weeks.

He couldn´t help but grin at the sight, feeling the relief flood through him. She just threw herself into his arms before he had a chance to react. He caught her easily, wraping his arms around her waist as she giggled into his chest.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, trying to hold back a laugh of his own. "You alright?"

She pulled back slightly, swaying on her feet as she looked up to him. "Of course I am. Why wouldn´t I be?" Her words slurred together, and she had to repeat the question a few times.

"You´re plastered," he stated plainly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Your plastered," she tried to imitate him. "Am not," she protested, though the wobble in her stance told him otherwise. She tried to step forward, but Jude quickly caught her before she could topple over.

"Please tell me you didn´t come walking all the way here like this," he asked, closing the door behind them with one hand, the other firmly around her waist.

She gave him a pout. "Wanted to see you."

“Yeah, I figured that much.” He chuckled, guiding her over to the leather couch. “Come on, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

She let him guide her but promptly flopped onto the couch with dramatic flair, kicking off her heels and curling her legs beneath her. She looked at him, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Jude?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, love?”

“I'm hungry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to make you something?”

“Nooo...” She shook her head, grinning mischievously. “I wanna cook.”

Jude immediately burst out laughing, kneeling beside the couch as he looked at her incredulously. “Babe, you’re drunk. You can’t even stand up properly, let alone cook.”

She squinted at him, clearly not appreciating his lack of faith. “I can cook. I make the best... sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches? That’s the bar we’re setting?”

She nodded eagerly, but before he could protest further, she was already struggling to stand, making a beeline for the kitchen. Jude quickly jumped up to intercept her, catching her around the waist before she could get too far.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, pulling her back toward him. “You are not cooking in this state.”

She notice how warm he was. “Jude…”

He laughed, tightening his grip around her. “Nope. Not happening. You’re going to hurt yourself or burn the kitchen down.”

“That is not true.”

“I’ve seen you try to use a toaster when you’re half-asleep. I don’t need you burning down my kitchen with us inside.”

With a huff, she slumped against him, clearly defeated but still playful. She tilted her head back to look at him, her frown returning. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m a lot of fun,” he corrected, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll see how fun I am tomorrow when you wake up with a hangover,” he teased. “Now, how about we get you some water and you go to bed, yeah?”

“I don’t want water,” she mumbled playfully, leaning her head onto his shoulder and putting her hand on his back. “I want… you.”

Jude felt his heart do a little flip at her words, though he tried to play it cool. “Yeah, well, you can have me tomorrow after you drink some water.”

He got up and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and bringing it back to her. She was now sprawled across the couch, one leg dangling off the side as she stared up at the ceiling, mumbling something incoherent.

“Here,” Jude said, sitting her up gently and handing her the glass.

She took it begrudgingly, sipping at it like a child forced to take medicine. “I didn’t want this,” she muttered.

“I know,” Jude said, rubbing her back soothingly. “But you’ll thank me in the morning.”

After a few sips, she set the glass down and looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. “You’re so good to me,” she said softly, her voice suddenly tender.

Jude smiled, feeling his chest tighten in that familiar way it did whenever she said something sweet, even in her drunken state. “Of course I am. Someone’s gotta take care of you when you decide to get hammered.”

“Jude, I’ve already told you that I’m not—,”

“Alright, alright,” he said defeated. Then, after making sure that she had drunk all the water, he lifted her as if she was nothing and carried her to his room.

The softness of the mattress and the sheets made her yawn. As Jude carefully wiped off her makeup and gave her some of his clothes, she couldn’t help to smile, adoring his features. When one of his hands brushed where her ribs where, she giggled at the motion, leaning her head against his chest. “You’re my favorite person,” she whispered.

His heart melted. “And you’re mine,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

They stayed like that for a while, she snuggled up against him as Jude absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her into a more peaceful state. Her tipsy giggles slowly faded, replaced by soft, sleepy breaths.

“You okay now?” he asked quietly.

“Mhm,” she hummed, half asleep against him.

Jude looked down at her, his chest swelling with affection. Drunk or not, she always managed to make him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. And despite her occasional recklessness, he wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything.

[suugarbabe]

omg ok ok ok, I love your Sirius, so, I'm wondering if you could write a sirius x fem!reader who is maybe the grumpy to his sunshine? he's the one who is always super flirty and outgoing and the life of the party, and she would sort of rather die but begrudgingly puts up with it for him? OH but maybe one day she has a bad day and he gets to see a softer side of her 🥹 IDK idk I'm too excited to request this is so bad sorry my love xoxoxoxo kisses for youuuu

I am *living* for this okay. l i v i n g. because Sirius is my sunshine to my grumpy. I am the grumpy reader. okay let’s do this baby. kiss kiss kiss yoooou <3

Opposites attract right? At least that’s what others seemed to deem as the explanation for your relationship. Sirius was in a category all his own as far as you were concerned, but that category was nearly the opposite of where people would place you. Sirius was a people person, it came so easily to him it was like he never even had to try. It annoyed you to no fucking end when you first met him.

Being a descendent of the most noble and ancient House of Black had its advantages. Like incredibly sharp cheekbones, beautiful alabaster skin that contrasted perfectly with onyx locks and eyes so deep and blue you could drown in them. Sirius exuded this energy that seemed to pull people towards him; like he had his own force field. He could walk into a room and everything shifted, like he breathed extra life into the area and everyone was desperate to live.

Most people when asked about you would say you were…short-tempered. Your housemates tended to steer clear of your presence. Which was fine with you because you were easily annoyed by most of them. Ravenclaws were known for being know-it-alls and truthfully you found it rather repugnant. Thankfully you had Pandora as company. Usually her overly sweet demeanor would drive you insane, but you knew more than the rest. Being a Rosier sorted into Ravenclaw essentially meant she was the black sheep of her family. But that seemed to be your soft spot.

Pandora would tease that this was why you started falling for Sirius. Despite your more grumpy demeanor, you were never quite as grumpy when it came to Sirius. Hearing the ins and outs of what was going on over breaks from Pan made you want to take care of him.

The first time Sirius brought you around the rest of the marauders it was not without sideways glances. “Er, Pads, you seemed to have picked up a shadow,” James nodded towards your frame just behind Sirius. “Sod off, Potter,” you’d grumbled, Sirius’s palm big and flat against your back moving in slow circles. “S’alright love, he’s just teasing. Be nice, Prongs or she’ll hex you into next week and I won’t be able to stop her.”

“Not that you’d try to stop her, would ya mate. I’m Remus, but all these miserable gits call me Moony,” Remus gave a small fingered wave as he plopped onto the couch ceremoniously. He would eventually turn into the one that’d help you gang up on Sirius, if ever needed.

On this particular night, though, you were feeling just…down. It wasn’t often you felt like this, despite outward appearances. However when this feeling did hit you, there was only one person that could fully get you out of it. You knew that the Gryffindors were having their annual Halloween party. Which meant if you wanted to find Sirius that’s where he’d be.

You had of course agreed to come to the party ages ago; much to do with Sirius begging and pouting his pretty pink lips and sucking you in with his pretty blue eyes. Sirius had insisted that costumes were required, “Even for an angel like yourself” which earned him a particularly large eye roll. Thus, you threw on some fishnet tights and a black minidress with your signature black boots. Atop your head a small pair of black cat ears, thanks to Pandoras charm work.

She was dressed as an actual angel, charmed halo floating above her nearly white blonde locks. Any muggle would think they were truly hallucinating if they would have seen her. You greeted the fat lady with the password, “Hiddlypunks,” and she swung open. Within the first few steps one would be none the wiser. But two steps into the commonroom and the barrier was broken, music and singing and murmuring filling the room.

“Drinks yes? Please yes,” you nodded at Pandora who found her way to to the drink table to create what you were hoping were very strong concoctions. You didn’t need to look around in order to find him. That magnetic pull leading you closer and closer until you heard the boisterous laugh of Sirius Black. You were quiet in your approach, not drawing any attention to yourself on purpose. Even though you yearned for his touch you knew how much he enjoyed entertaining and didn’t want to interrupt.

Remus spots you of course, the observant bastard. He throws a playful wink in your direction; you responding with a middle finger and a forced smile. Sirius is in the middle of recalling “a truly amazing play, great play” from the last quidditch match, but Remus’s low chuckle from your display of affection towards him causes your boyfriend to turn around in search of who could have possibly pulled attention away from him.

His furrowed brows disperse as you catch his sights and smile lights his face, “Well, hello there, Kitten.” You give a weak smile in response, “Hi Siri.” His brows are furrowed once more. The others try to greet you but immediately you’re swept away to a farther corner of the room. Sirius swirls his wand around you both, muttering a quick muffliato, coating you both in silence. “Okay, out with it what’s wrong?” Sirius’s hands were laid gently on your waist, head dipped down to force your avoidant eyes to keep contact with his. “Come now, pet. You know I can’t do anything without knowing what’s wrong,” he urged, giving your waist a small squeeze.

You met his eyes and yours immediately began to brim with tears. In an instant Sirius has engulfed you, one hand grasping your head and holding you close to his chest while the other wraps around your back, squeezing you as close to him as possible and hoping the pressure of his pull is soothing. His heart breaks ever so slightly at the muffled sobs against him. Your emotions seem to be everywhere but embarrassment is toping the list as you begin to pull away, aggressively wiping your face with the heel of your palms, hoping no one but Sirius is noticing you in this state.

"I-I'm sorry Siri, 've just..." you trailed off, choked breaths causing your intake of air to stutter. Sirius's touch has yet to cease, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other finds solace in the dip of your waist, "Rough day, love?" You nod once, looking to the ceiling and willing any tears to fall back into your head instead of trailing down your face. "Alright, let's go," his head tilts towards the spiral staircase that would lead to his dorm.

You sniffle quickly, shaking your head, "N-no, I'll be okay. I'm not going to take you away from the party, Siri. Not gonna steal you from your friends like that." Sirius can't help but scoff, "Fuck my friends." You laugh a little at his brashness and the sound makes Sirius grin again, "There you are, love." He takes a quick peek over his shoulder, "Now. Let's just go tell the others we're going up, Remus will make sure we're left alone for a good few hours then, hmm?"

You nod, agreeing, knowing that there's no use in arguing with Sirius when he's made up his mind. His fingers laced with yours and the cool feeling of his rings are such a contrast the the heat in your body that it's calming. He gives your hand an extra squeeze as you approach the group. You decide to try and stay hidden behind Sirius, almost burying your face against his shoulder blade, barely peeking one eye out to see the others.

Sirius explains that he's feeling tired and wants to go back to the room with you. James does not look convinced in the slightest. He looks even more confused by your seemingly shy and reserved demeanor. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so...vulnerable. Remus is the only person you make eye contact with and he gives you a simple wink and a nod. The reassurance from the smallest action making you sigh in relief.

It's almost like Sirius can feel you relax slightly, turning to you and asking if you're ready to go. You give a feeble nod and a shy wave to the others, most of which look a little skeptical but say no protests in return.

When you make it to his dorm Sirius immediately goes to his trunk, pulling out his favorite concert tee and handing it to you. You take off your outfit slowly, pulling his shirt over your head and letting it consume you, the additional scent of Sirius now enveloping your body and adding to your relief. Sirius changes himself and then pulls back the duvet, "In you go, pet."

You oblige, going and getting comfortable on your back. Sirius climbs in after you, crawling over your form and placing two soft kisses on either apple of your cheek before giving you the most gentle yet firm kiss. He rests his head against yours, asking you almost in a whisper, "D'you wanna talk about it?"

"No," your response so soft it would've been missed had it not been only you two in the room, "Will you just...lay on me?" Sirius kissed you softly once more, scooching down just enough to lay his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around you, relaxing himself and allowing his full weight to now lay on top of you. The weight of your boyfriend was the grounding you needed, your breathing now finally able to even out.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

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The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately. 

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress. 

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule 

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr 

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me? 

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

“Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter. 

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?" 

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold. 

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could—"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision. 

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more. 

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you. 

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light. 

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said. 

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine. 

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?" 

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table. 

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her. 

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike." 

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

[passengerprincessblog]

“Intern”~ pt. 1 Max Verstappen x reader

Disclaimer: Reader doesn’t have to be blonde! The images is just to show she’s working for the team!

Warnings: degrading? Mean max.

Summary: The series follows Y/N, a fresh and slightly timid media intern for the Red Bull Racing team, who is thrown into the chaotic, high-stakes world of Formula 1. Her job quickly becomes challenging not only because of the high-pressure environment but because of Max Verstappen, the star driver with a talent for making her feel small and flustered. Max’s arrogance and relentless teasing leave her feeling out of her depth, yet strangely captivated. Despite his condescending demeanor, there’s an undeniable pull between them, a tension that seems to simmer just beneath the surface.

I sit quietly in the corner of the motorhome, tapping nervously on my phone as I check my messages. The whole atmosphere here is intimidating, even more so when Max Verstappen and Checo stroll in, laughing at some private joke. Their easy confidence is almost tangible, filling the room with a sense of belonging I can only hope to someday feel.

Max’s eyes land on me for a split second, and I quickly look away, pretending to be engrossed in a message from my boss, Adam. I can feel my cheeks heat up just from that brief eye contact. It’s silly, but he’s… well, he’s Max Verstappen. There’s something intimidating in the way he looks at people, like he’s sizing them up and finding them lacking. And, of course, I’m not immune to his scrutiny.

The only time he’s spoken to me before, he’d made a throwaway comment that left me red-faced. He wasn’t even trying to be mean—it just slipped out, something about me “looking lost.” The memory of my blush and his faint smirk is still fresh, and I can’t seem to shake it.

My phone buzzes with a message from Adam: Can you come to Meeting Room 3 ASAP?

With a deep breath, I make my way to the meeting room, hoping Adam’s request isn’t something beyond my skill level. When I arrive, he looks a bit frazzled, glancing up from his stack of papers with an apologetic smile.

“Y/N, I know you’re still new, and I haven’t had the chance to train you properly…” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “But we’re short-staffed this weekend, so I need you to help the media team cover for the missing people. Think you’re up for it?”

I swallow hard, my nerves tightening at the idea of being around Max and the rest of the drivers more than I already have been. But I don’t want to let Adam down; he’s been nothing but encouraging since I started, always pushing me to do better, to learn more. It’s why I like him so much as a boss.

“Of course, Adam,” I reply, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “What do you need me to do?”

He hands me a tablet and goes over the details. My main job will be to record the drivers’ answers during interviews, ensuring we have accurate records. I’ll also assist Andrew with media release forms. It’s straightforward, but the thought of messing up in front of Max makes my stomach churn.

Later in the day, Adam decides it’s time for a proper introduction. He drags me into the garage, where Max is leaning against one of the cars, arms folded as he talks with a mechanic. When he sees us approaching, he raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he already knows I’m way out of my league.

“Max, this is Y/N,” Adam says cheerfully. “She’s helping us out with the media coverage this weekend. We’re a bit understaffed, so she’ll be shadowing you a lot.”

Max looks me up and down, his gaze almost clinical, as if he’s evaluating whether I’ll be a help or a hindrance. He smiles, but it’s the polite kind—the one people give when they’re forced to interact with someone they don’t particularly care about.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, offering a brief nod. “So, they haven’t trained you yet, huh?”

My cheeks flush, and I look away, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. There’s something so arrogant about him, the way he stands there, completely sure of himself. Why does he have to be like this? He’s just a driver, after all. A very talented one, sure, but still just a person. But his energy—the way he carries himself—makes it clear he’s used to people fawning over him.

“Not yet,” I reply, managing to keep my voice steady.

He just chuckles, clearly amused. “Well, I’ll break you in.” He says quietly enough for me to hear.

What? What did he just- I blink and smile at him.

A few hours later, we’re on our way to the media pen after qualifying. I’m clutching the tablet tightly, going over my mental checklist to make sure I have everything. Just as we reach the interview area, I realize with a sickening jolt that I’ve left the team phone back in the motorhome.

I take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment already creeping up my cheeks. “Um… Max?” I ask hesitantly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you mind waiting a minute?”

He looks at me, eyebrow raised, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You forgot the phone, didn’t you?” he says, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Let me guess—you didn’t think you’d need it?”

I nod, my cheeks heating up further, and I try to apologize. “I’m sorry, it won’t take long—”

“Oh, don’t worry, intern,” he says, emphasizing the title like it’s an insult. “I know you’re new, but I figured you’d be a bit smarter than that. Or is this your way of making sure I remember your name?”

His tone is light, but the words sting. I try to laugh it off, but it comes out more like a nervous squeak. “It’s just… I thought I had everything.”

He leans closer, making me meet his gaze, his expression full of condescension. “Don’t look so nervous. I’m asking you a question,” he says slowly, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable I am.

“I… I know. I just—”

“Didn’t think?” he cuts me off, chuckling to himself. “It’s fine. Go on, intern. Fetch the phone. I’ll wait here, seeing as you’re so eager to do a good job.”

I nod and practically sprint back to the motorhome, my mind racing. By the time I return with the phone, my cheeks are still burning, and I can tell from the look on his face that he’s pleased with himself.

During the interviews, I focus on recording Max’s answers, refusing to make eye contact. I can feel him glancing at me every few moments, as if he’s waiting for me to make another mistake, something else he can latch onto. But I keep my head down, determined to finish this task without another hitch.

Later that day, Adam calls me aside, a slight frown on his face as he glances at a form in his hands. “Y/N, I need Max’s signature on this media release form. Looks like you forgot to get it earlier.”

I feel my heart sink. Another mistake. Another opportunity for Max to remind me just how out of place I am here. Swallowing my pride, I head to his driver’s room, my hands shaking slightly as I knock on the door.

“Come in,” he calls, sounding a bit exasperated.

I step inside, holding the form and pen. He’s lounging on a chair, scrolling through his phone, barely sparing me a glance. “Um, Max… I just need you to sign this release form.”

He finally looks up, an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. “Intern, I thought we went over this,” he says, leaning back with a mock sigh. “Didn’t I tell you earlier to get it all done at once?”

“I… I’m sorry. I just—”

“Forgot. Again,” he interrupts, looking like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. “Is this going to be a habit with you? Or should I expect you to keep knocking on my door every five minutes?”

I can feel the embarrassment flooding my cheeks, but I hold out the paper and pen, refusing to let him see how much his words sting. “It won’t happen again,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

He takes the form from me, signing it with a flourish, but not before giving me one last smirk. “Let’s hope not. I don’t have time to babysit, intern.” he says, clearly enjoying himself.

He doesn’t hand the form back to me. Instead, he holds onto it, his fingers curling around the edges, teasing me as I reach out, waiting for him to relinquish it. But he makes no move to do so. His smirk only widens, and I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach.

“Maybe,” he begins, his tone dripping with mock thoughtfulness, “maybe I shouldn’t give it back to you. Maybe you should learn from your mistakes.” He pauses, watching as I grow visibly more uncomfortable under his scrutiny. And then, with a single, swift movement, he crumples the paper in his fist.

My mouth falls open in shock, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself.

“Do you need a babysitter, Y/N?” he taunts, his voice soft but laced with condescension. “Is that what you’re asking for? Because that’s what it looks like to me. Someone to hold your hand, make sure you don’t make any more silly mistakes.”

His words sting, each one hitting me like a small slap to my pride. I can feel frustration bubbling up inside me, the urge to snap back at him nearly overwhelming. But I bite my tongue, swallowing the retort building in my throat. I can’t risk my job, no matter how badly I want to put him in his place.

Instead, I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “No… I’m sorry,” I mumble, trying to keep any hint of annoyance out of my voice. It takes everything I have not to glare at him, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible.

Max’s smirk only grows at my response. He seems to revel in my discomfort, enjoying every second of this little power play. He lets the crumpled paper fall from his hand, watching it drift to the floor near his feet. “If you’re so sorry,” he says, gesturing to the paper on the ground, “then pick it up and make it work. I’m sure a little crease won’t stop an intern like you, right?”

I hesitate for a moment, the indignation flaring up again, but I bite it back. He’s baiting me, waiting for me to snap so he has another reason to belittle me. So, without another word, I crouch down, reaching for the paper that lies just near his feet. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, that smug satisfaction radiating off him as I pick up the wrinkled form and straighten back up, clutching it tightly.

I want to say something, to tell him off, to make him realize how unbearable he’s being. But all I do is nod, the words caught in my throat as I straighten the paper as best I can. Max watches me, one eyebrow raised in clear amusement, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Say thank you,” he commands, his tone soft but dripping with authority.

I clench my jaw, every fiber of my being resisting the urge to roll my eyes. But I know better. I swallow my pride, forcing myself to look up at him, though the words feel heavy on my tongue. “Thank you,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

He tilts his head, that smirk growing, clearly pleased by my forced gratitude. “See you tomorrow, intern,” he says, his tone dismissive, as if I’m nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his day.

Without another word, I turn and leave, clutching the wrinkled paper in my hand, his mocking gaze burning into my back as I step out of the room.

——————————————-

Thank you for reading! 😇

Remember, liking and following let’s me know you want more writings! 💜

[velarisdusk]

Before the Dawn

Day 3: Edging | Tamlin x Reader word count: 1.2k author’s note: TAMLINNNNNN omfg. he’s gorgeous i love him. hope i wrote him well!! <3 ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

“Tamlin, come on!”

“Patience, darling,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your sensitive skin. His canines peek out from behind a smirk that promises both torment and pleasure. 

You throw your arms over your face with a frustrated groan. You’ve been more than patient! It’s been an hour — an hour of tantalizing touches and relentless teasing, bringing you right to the edge of climax, only for him to pull away completely. The ache is unbearable, your core throbbing with a desperate need that he’s cultivated so expertly. Despite your previous efforts to mask your mounting pleasure, Tamlin knows you too well.

“Why did you wake me for this if you had no intention of letting me finish?” you whine, your voice cracking with frustration as he digs his nails into your thighs.  

“I never said you wouldn’t finish,” he murmurs against your skin, his deep, raspy morning voice vibrating directly over your clit. The sensation makes you squirm, seeking more contact, but he only pulls back with a raised eyebrow. 

“Tam, please!” 

He huffs a soft laugh against your thigh, pressing a tender kiss to it. This was how he loved you best — completely at his mercy, utterly desperate. He would never tire of seeing your arousal transform into frustration, and then into raw, desperate need. The moment he finally grants you release, it’s as though he’s watching your every ounce of tension wash away, leaving behind only the serene glow of an angel. His angel. 

“Please what, my love?” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your wet pussy just enough to be maddeningly teasing. His hands explore your legs, tracing over your hips and waist as he continues his slow torture. “Say it. I want to hear you say it, my Lady.”

Fuck. He knew exactly what that title did to you — calling you his Lady in that deep, commanding tone as if he hadn’t tormented you enough. 

“Tamlin,” you tell him, voice deathly quiet. “I want you to make me come. Now. Not in another hour — now. Can you do that?”

“Ah, there she is,” he murmurs, grinning that feral, wolfish grin of his. This tone in your voice is a rare, electrifying shift, and gods, it drives him crazy. Raking his nails down the backs of your thighs, he purrs, almost lazily, “Are you giving me an order, my Lady?” Despite his relaxed demeanor, he’s barely containing his own need. He wants this just as badly as you do. 

Without a word, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him into you, his lips and nose flush against your dripping cunt. A silent command. He growls, and he’s certain you’re about to tear his hair out, but he doesn’t care. No, he wants to do this. He relishes in your desperation — when you beg and whimper, it’s pure bliss for him. He loves this.

Tamlin's breath mingles with your wetness, his deep, throaty groan vibrating through your core as he shifts into position. The heat from his breath and the relentless pressure of his mouth are almost unbearable. He dives in with renewed fervor, his tongue working with precision, determined to bring you to the edge as quickly as possible.

The bravado you had mustered quickly dissolves as your grip on his hair tightens, your legs twitching involuntarily, the sensation overwhelming after so long. Each flick of his tongue sends electrifying jolts through your body, but he keeps you just on the brink, never quite letting you tip over into the release you so desperately crave.

“Tamlin,” you whimper, your voice breaking with frustration and need. “I need it. I need you.” His eyes, clouded with arousal, flick up to meet yours as he continues his ministrations. There’s a fleeting glint of mischief in his gaze, but it’s quickly replaced by an intense, almost primal focus.

He cuts you off by pressing his tongue flat against your clit, the heat and pressure making you gasp. The action is insistent, and rhythmic, pushing you closer to the brink with each stroke. The edges of your vision blur, and your body trembles uncontrollably, caught in the throes of unfulfilled desire. 

Just when you think you might lose your mind, Tamlin’s dark, lust-filled eyes lock onto yours as he pulls back slightly. His breath is hot and heavy against your slick skin, and although you’re on the edge of release, trembling and desperate, he’s not finished with you.

He grips your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he begins to rise, a predatory grin curving his lips. He leans over you, his breath hot and tickling your ear. “I want you to come on my cock,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with need. “I want to feel you fall apart while I’m inside you. Do you want that?”

Before you can respond, he’s positioning himself at your entrance, the tip of his throbbing cock pressing teasingly against your aching sex. You can feel the heat of him as he teases you, barely brushing against where you need him most.

“Tell me,” he growls, his voice dripping with raw, unfiltered need. “Tell me you want it. I want to hear you say it.”

You moan, your body aching for the connection, the release that’s been so cruelly withheld. “Please, Tamlin. I want it. I need you inside me.”

With a low, approving growl, he thrusts forward, filling you in one powerful, decisive movement. You gasp at the sudden, intense sensation as he bottoms out, his cock stretching you and hitting every nerve in the most delicious way. He holds still for a moment, letting you adjust, his eyes locked on yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

When he begins to move, his thrusts are deep and steady, each powerful push and pull driving you closer to the brink once again. You cry out, your hands clutching the sheets, trying to hold on as he drives you relentlessly towards your climax.

Tamlin’s eyes are locked onto yours, dark and intense as he keeps pace. “That’s it, my love,” he murmurs, his voice low and encouraging, as he reaches down to circle your clit with his thumb. “Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you come all over me.”

The pleasure builds slowly, a wave of intensity that’s been simmering for what feels like forever. Your body trembles and writhes beneath him, the sensations gradually escalating as the pressure within you peaks. Your cries become more desperate, your moans a symphony of strained pleasure. 

With a final, powerful thrust, the dam breaks. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you in a series of drawn-out, shuddering waves. Your body convulses, your cunt clenched around him as you come undone, your cries mingling with Tamlin’s groan of satisfaction. He continues to fuck you through your release, his own pleasure building until he finally reaches his own climax with a shuddering gasp, his body tensing against yours.

The two of you lie tangled in the sheets, breathless and spent, the remnants of your intense pleasure still pulsing through you. Tamlin pulls you close, his breath warm and soothing against your skin. As you both try to catch your breath, you do your best to ignore the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over you both.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @isnotwhatyourethinking @julesvanslutta @90angiex

[badgers-and-cats]

hi!! how are you! i hope you’re doing well, i wanted to request a story! im imagining….

Reader being shy about exploring new things in bed and Loki slowly finding out what makes reader “tick” if you know what i mean…😉

And can you could implement some degradation kink and choking kink?, just if you want to and if you feel comfortable with that!

either way you can do whatever you want!:3

Thank you!!!🤎

Loki discovering your kinks…

18+ MDNI

female/afab reader

Hiii my lovely!! So sorry this took a while to get posted, I’ve been super low on motivation recently<3 I’m not really happy with the ending of this but wasn’t sure how to end it, sorryyy!!!💕

may write a part 2 if anyone’s interested👀

Warnings: smut below the cut. Unprotected P in V sex (wrap it before you tap it). Choking kink. Degrading kink. Degrading pet names (dirty slut etc). Praising (good girl, you did so good etc.) loki says he’s gonna breed reader… but not really a heavy breeding kink. let me know if I forgot anything.

Word count: 944

Masterlist

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. In fact, you would probably argue that you’d trust him with your life more than you trust yourself with your life. And in this, completely hypothetical, situation, it was… in a way.

How would you even bring it up? You wonder. He wouldn’t judge you for it… and it wasn’t THAT unusual of a request. Plus, there wasn’t anything wrong with wanting your boyfriends large hands to be wrapped around your neck, teasing by applying pressure - occasionally cutting off your airflow.

Even when he has you on your back - legs spread and pussy dripping, his hard cock pounding into your heat, you can’t bring yourself to ask, no matter how much you crave it. How much you need it.

He groans with every thrust of his hips, relishing the feeling of your soaking heat welcoming his cock so easily, like you were made for him. Because you are.

He knew. He knew that, deep down, there was a part of you that wanted more. That craved more. He knew that you were secretly the dirty little slut he knew you could be. The dirty slut that already makes him painfully hard, despite not coming out yet to play. He didn’t want to push you. Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He loved and cared for you too much to push you out of your comfort zone and make you feel uncomfortable and anxious.

That didn’t mean, however, that he couldn’t start to new things with you. Only subtle things - things that would allow him to feel the changes in your body - feel if your pussy pulses around his cock, gripping it desperately. He’s figured out through this technique already that you have a thing for praise. It was subtle - very subtle - but it was something. Baby steps, he thought.

What if he tried the opposite, he thought. How would you react to being called exactly what he knew you were deep down. A slut. His slut.

“That’s it, darling… taking me so well, just like the dirty little slut you are. My desperate whore…” he groans, feeling the way your body positively reacts to his words. Your back arches as you moan highly at his words, enjoying the degrading words, unexpectedly.

“You like that? You like being my slut. God I love you… love your slutty pussy, look how desperate she is for me… how she’s leaking pathetically around my cock, so desperate… so pathetic,” you let out a cry at his words, moving your hips for more friction as he chuckles. Finally, he thinks. He’s breaking down that shy exterior.

“Yes… please,” you beg. You know what you want to ask for. But the way he’s making you feel - especially now that his thumb has made its way to your already sensitive clit, you can barely think of anything else. You sounded truly pathetic as you whimpered underneath him - and you both knew it.

“Is my baby too dumb to talk? Have I fucked the slut stupid already?” He pouts as he continues his assault, admiring the way your breasts move with every movement of his hips.

You can only nod your head weakly as you look at him pout mockingly. You grab his arm - in attempt of showing him what you want, pulling it to your throat.

He knows immediately what you want - wrapping his hand round your neck, chuckling, his eyes completely full of lust.

“Oh you dirty girl… I knew you had some fantasies in that pretty little head of yours,” he stops his thrusting, now completely still and balls deep inside of you. He applies pressure to your neck, seeing the slight smile appear on your lips, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way your pussy is gripping onto his cock desperately.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes roll back, or the feeling of your juices somehow soaking him even more, when he tightens his grip even more, temporarily cutting off your airflow. Feeling you struggle underneath him only makes him harder, more desperate for you. He wonders how far you’d let him go with this.

If it wasn’t fuzzy already - the lack of oxygen has definitely made your mind fuzzy now. Only being able to focus on his hand and his cock buried deep inside you. Before you pass out completely, he loosens the grip on your neck - but still keeping a firm grip as he kisses your lips harshly.

He flips you onto your hands and knees, yanking your head up by your hair, using his other hand to play with your breasts, “I hope you’re ready slut… I don’t intend on stopping until you’re leaking with my seed, gonna breed you… my perfect slut,” he groans.

And he was right. You lost count after orgasm number 5 how many you had. He was now holding you closely, after cleaning you both up.

“That’s it… my good girl, you did so well for me, dove,” he kisses the top of your head as you cuddle into him.

“I didn’t hurt you… did I?” He asks, for what feels like the 100th time.

“No, I promise my love,” you say, smiling up at him, before sleepily mumbling an “I love you,” before falling asleep in the arms of the love of your life.

[jarofstyles]

21. “Go and lock the door for me.  I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

meanH would kill this.

mwah 😚 to you and your stories

FUCK YES LETS DO IT!!!!

Patreon

Warnings- Mean Dom!H... Fratrry

------

Y/N knew it was a bad idea to go back up to his room. He had been badgering her at each party for a repeat of their sex a month back, and for 3 weekends in a row he was making it his personal mission to get her to repeat the process.

It fueled her ego to know that she was that good, that he wasted his time at the parties to follow her around and tempt her. A game of cat and mouse, a sensual back and forth. He'd cornered her in the hallway just 4 days ago as she was leaving the lecture hall, pulling them into an alcove and teased her about her leggings. They were flared and tight, no secret to her that they flattered her well. Secretly, she knew she'd pass him in the hallway and wanted him to look.

Her reservations were simply because he was a bit of a dick. Cocky and arrogant and all the things she shouldn't like, but it sent heat between her thighs when he gripped her chin and kissed her hard and deep, reminiscent of the kiss he'd given her in the dingy bathroom while she sat on the countertop with his prick pounding into her, the music muffling her whimpers.

Of course she wanted a repeat. No one had made her orgasm, not like that. For as cocky as he was, he had a right to be. Fucking her with that hat sitting backwards on his head and that pretentious old rock shirt, getting down on his knees mid fuck to taste her- that had thrown her for a loop. He was mean, which worked out in her favor considering she liked it. His hand around her throat and the filth that left his mouth. He'd made her see stars not once, but twice. Shaky knees as she left, despite his furrowed brow asking her to stay.

She didn't obviously, and he'd been chasing her since. It must mean he held similar sentiments to her, found her to be extremely compatible- to the point of scaring off other men. That had done it for her tonight. What had been meant to be a fight about him following her around had turned into her sat in his lap with his stupid fucking hat knocked off on the ground and her hands in his hair, her bandage dress pulled up to her hips as she rocked on his lap. He tasted like mint and cheap beer, but she didn't mind when he kissed her like he couldn't breathe without her tongue in his mouth.

Breaking apart from her, he held the back of her neck as he pulled her to look at his face. "You want this?" He murmured, slipping his thumb under her lip to clean up her smudged lipstick. "Want me to fuck you like the pretty slut you are?"

Y/N knew she was pathetic, nodding wildly as she tried to reconnect their lips. He wasn't done yet, though. "Good. Made it to my room this time, and you're not gonna run off on me after we finish once. Been Makin' me chase you around because you've got some golden pussy and it's been making me crazy. One time isn't going to be enough for me." He warned, making her melt. His voice had an edge of threat to it that only made her hotter, her clit swollen as she still rubbed up against his jeans. "You sure you're okay with this?" His tone softened a bit as he looked at her face. Despite being a dickhead he'd cared a lot about consent both times they'd fucked around.

"Yes- Yes, I really want it. Please." In the morning she was going to regret being so needy, so whiny. Giving him more fuel to feed his ego. But right now, she craved what only he seemed capable of giving her.

His swollen lips curled up in a smirk, humming in his throat. “Go and lock the door for me.  I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.” He sent her off, watching her on wobbly legs to flick the lock on his door. Peeling off his jeans, he kicked them to the side and stood expectantly as she made her way back to him. "There we are. Looks like you've got enough thought in that pretty little head to follow instructions." His hand came up and gripped her cheeks, making her lips pout out before dipping his head down to rest his forehead against hers. "Lets hope you keep that up. Know you get a bit dumb when you cum." He placed a sloppy kiss to her pouted lips before releasing her face.

She never imagined anyone talking to her this way would make her that horny, that melty and soft, wanting to get on her knees and listen him, but it did. He knew how to coax her, this near stranger. He pulled the dress off of her form, cursing under his breath as he pushed her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her. "Insane body, y'know that? Fucking mental." Her breasts were bare, as they usually were in outfits like this. His fingers ran down the valley of her chest, past her belly button and the waistband of her stupid thong. "Did you know you were going to give into me tonight? Couldn't handle a vibrator one more time?" He clicked his tongue. "Needed to be fucked until you're a begging mess? Didn't even do half of what I wanted t'do to you last time." His fingers tugged on the flimsy panties, tugging them down her legs. She let him. All she could do was nod.

It was like her mouth and brain weren't connected with him. All she wanted to do was say yes, please, more.

"Dunno why you fought me so hard when you know how good we feel together... But you're not going to be able to hobble out of here when m'done with you. So..." He grabbed her phone and placed it in her hand. "Let your friends know you're with me, you're safe, you've got a ride home tomorrow. Or not." His lips kissed sloppily over her breasts before he licked the right nipple. "Maybe you'll come to your senses and stay the weekend, let me do all the filthy things you want. Deprived, needy whore like you would probably love that."

She typed with shaking fingers, pausing when he sucked her nipple into his hot, wet mouth- only for him to pull back with his teeth grazing the swollen bud. "Not dumb for me already, baby..." He clicked his tongue in faux disappointment. "S'pathetic. Type out the message while I play with your pretty tits, and then I'll give you what you want."

[dedeinthewild]

Omd please if you could do a story where arvids girl is teasing him abt being more boyfriendy with pepe bcos they're in the 'honeymoon" phase and she gets jealous

soo, I'm really sorry 'cause it isn't exactly what you requested but I had an idea with Pepe and I wrote it down. Let me know if you like it anyways, or I will make one just like you wanted it!

pepe martí x reader, established relationship

~ "that's a terrible one"

Pepe was determined, kind, and so intelligent that he could make anyone smile just by meeting him.

But above all, he was dedicated.

He was deeply grateful for his journey in motorsport and always trusted the Red Bull driver academy and his team, despite the terrible luck that had made his season challenging.

With the two-month break from Formula 2, and his girlfriend busy with school, lessons, and studying, he had plenty of time to reconnect with the junior categories and work alongside the academy’s new entries.

Among them was the incredible Formula 3 rookie, Arvid Lindblad, who had left everyone in awe and was set to join Campos in the 2025 season.

In the preceding weeks, the Spaniard had traveled to Barcelona to watch the Eurocup3 and Spanish Formula 4 race weekends, reconnecting with his roots. Then, at the team’s request, he and Arvid attended the final MotoGP race, surprising everyone with their instant chemistry before even racing together.

On one side was the tall, polite, composed Spaniard who listened and responded with a smile. On the other was the whirlwind of words that was the British rookie, dressed in oversized trendy outfits, bringing a fresh vibe to Campos.

They had spent a lot of time together, laughing and creating content around the circuit, perfectly delivering what the team wanted while giving fans exactly what they loved.

A week later, Gaby and Christian had decided to organize a weekend in London with Pepe and his girlfriend.

“He’s got Arvid now; he won’t even look at me” his girlfriend joked to the British woman walking beside her, loud enough for Pepe to hear from ahead where he was walking with Christian.

“Sorry?” the Spaniard turned around, hands buried deep in the pockets of his blue jacket.

“I said you don’t even look at me anymore. You’ve got Arvid now.”

“He’s been cheating on me, and you didn’t care to tell me?” Christian chimed in, clutching his chest dramatically as they strolled through St. James’ Park.

Everyone burst out laughing while Pepe’s girlfriend tucked her hands into her scarf, hiding her nose and cheeks, which were slowly turning red from the cold.

“I’m sorry for cheating; Gaby will treat you right” Pepe teased Christian, pretending to steal his girlfriend while Christian clung to his own.

Pepe’s girlfriend, a petite five-foot-something figure walking beside him, smiled. Her hair was tucked into her scarf, and she breathed in the air of a London she loved.“Are you cold?” Pepe asked, taking her hand and slipping it into the pocket of his Red Bull jacket, his thumb stroking her knuckles.

“I’m always cold, Pepe” she replied, knowing full well that her constant chilliness was something he always took care of.

Pepe and Christian had a strong bond, and seeing them together was a joy. So, when the F3 driver invited them for the weekend, they had packed their bags immediately. Spending time with Christian and Gaby also brought the two women closer, as they, like their boyfriends, perfectly complemented each other, creating a fun and close-knit group.

They loved teasing and joking with each other, and this was the perfect moment to poke fun at Pepe. His girlfriend seized the opportunity without hesitation.

“And what do you mean about Arvid?” Pepe asked, glancing down at her as they walked along the little path that ducks shared with their ducklings.

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past month. Don’t even get me started on those videos.”

Pepe chuckled, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if she was serious. She, however, maintained an honest expression.

“Are you saying that for real?”

“I mean, you’re really boyfriendy with him.”

“And I guess you’re implying that I’m not with you.”

Her head tilted back slightly, the wind brushing her cheeks as she gave him a playful smile. She was joking, and both of them knew it, but they were curious to see how far it would go.

“I mean, you spend a lot of time with him and look at him as if he were the love of your life.”

“And what should I say about you and Gaby?” he retorted, grinning. “You’re always going on your dates; I think she’s a pinned chat on your phone, and—”

She couldn’t help but laugh as Christian and Gaby lined up at a café while she and Pepe stopped, standing face-to-face.

This spot was one of her favorites in London, where she loved walking with a hot chocolate in hand, headphones in, and music blasting.

“I should remind you that it’s only because you’re in your honeymoon phase with Arvid. You’ll see the bad sides later.”

Pepe took her other hand, slipping it into his jacket pocket to warm it with his, moving closer with that sweet look he always wore.

“I have to say, it’s a great honeymoon nonetheless.”

She bit her cheek to keep a straight face, though her playful expression was giving her away.

“And what do you mean by bad sides?” he asked, curious. “Are there bad sides to being with me?”

“Many, many for sure.”

Pepe leaned down slightly, wrapping her completely in his arms and burying her face in his blue Red Bull jacket.

“List them, then,” he teased.

“You’re too nice, and everyone loves you.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders, hugging him back, as Christian and Gaby returned with steaming cups of tea.

“That’s a terrible one" joked the Campos driver, kissing her forehead before handing her the cup Christian had given him.

As they strolled down The Mall, the four chatted, surrounded by a slightly windy but not too damp London, kissed by timid sunshine.

The scent of falling leaves mixed with the sweetness of candied almonds from nearby stands, while some passersby asked for directions, and others watched them laugh and enjoy their time together.

“Pepe and I decided something” his girlfriend suddenly announced, grabbing the attention of Christian and Gaby while Pepe played along.

“We’re splitting up but staying good friends,” she said seriously.

At that moment, the world seemed to crumble for the Australian and the Brit, whose jaws dropped as they stared at Pepe to figure out if it was a joke or the truth.

“We realized we have some differences that the other doesn’t enjoy, unlike with other people, so it’s better this way.”

“What do you mean?” Christian asked, his eyes wide in shock.

“We’ve had some flings” she replied casually.

Gaby, convinced that if those two broke up, she’d never believe in love again, couldn’t process it. Pepe and his girlfriend were the perfect match—two people who effortlessly connected in ways she’d never seen before.

“No, you haven’t” Gaby declared, shaking her head.

Pepe and his girlfriend smiled, struggling to keep the joke going, even though their friends’ sad, confused faces made them feel a bit guilty.

“With who?” Christian asked, earning a gentle smack on the hand from Gaby, who thought it wasn’t the time for such questions.

“Your girlfriend” they replied in unison.

The Australian furrowed his brow, confused.

“Both of you? Pepe?” He was at a loss for words.

“No, stop this nonsense; it’s not funny” he said, visibly upset.

At that moment, Pepe and his girlfriend burst into laughter, exchanging looks as if they had just pulled off the joke of the decade while walking ahead of the group.

“You assholes!” Christian exclaimed, exasperated.

“You actually believed it?” Gaby asked, holding onto Christian’s arm, relieved to see them laugh it off.

“As if you didn’t” Pepe retorted.

That evening, after a lovely dinner at a restaurant near Chinatown, they all headed back to their hotel, trying to teach Pepe how to navigate the Tube using a rule his girlfriend had devised.

“If you miss a train or anything, just get off at the first stop and wait there. We’ll come find you.”

“I’m not a child,” the Spaniard protested, sitting on one of the Piccadilly Line trains with his arms crossed, playfully nudging his girlfriend’s feet as she studied the map.

“I’m quite positive you are” she replied with a smile, focused on the intricate map, unaware that Pepe had taken out his phone and snapped a picture of her.

Later, once they were in their room, changed into their pajamas, and cuddled in bed watching a movie, Pepe sent her the photo.

As she opened the message, he began to speak.

“Honeymoon or not, you’re the only thing about me without bad sides” he said.

She smiled, her eyes soft and warm.

“And I love you like I love yapping about nerdy facts.”

“I think that’s the most thoughtful way you’ve told me you love me.”

Pepe leaned his head back against his hands.

“Still, maybe you’re right. I’m rather boyfriendy with Arvid.”

“Be careful, I’m a little jealous of you,” she said, giving him a quick kiss where his ear met his jawline.

“You said it—everyone loves me,” he joked, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer, breathing in her scent and feeling as though, even fifty years from now, they would still be just like this.

Because, as Gaby thought, if those two ever broke up, no one would believe in love anymore.

Beyond all the jokes and teasing, Pepe and that girl had found each other through some stroke of fate, and they were never meant to let each other go.

~ not proofread or anything so there might be a few errors, I hope you all like it 🍀

(please find me a pepe, thanks)

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Hello I’d like to request something :3 what if miguel was a maifa boss and he was both Spider-Man and the worlds deadliest maifa boss and he teased reader as spider man, like when he saves her.

“You should really be careful. Wouldn’t want a monster swallowing you up now~” and one day she’s in danger from a tentacle monster (or something) and his identity is shown and the two go home after the monster is defeated and just have the most steamiest of S E X-

OmggGGGGG- yes yes yes

Miguel x F!Reader - Savior

CW: NSFW, mafia, s e x w/ plot

Word count: 1,435

The infamous Spider-Man had saved you many times now. Honestly, with how much you needed rescuing it seemed like you were just asking for trouble. You never got close enough to learn anything… personal. He’d swoop in, save you, carry you off to a safe spot or even your apartment, and that was that. Despite not knowing him personally, you started developing feelings for the masked hero.

Every time he saved you, you became distracted by him. How tall he was, the way his tight suit defined every curve and muscle of his body. That sexy voice that made you wet every time he spoke. His entire being turned you on. Your body had very inconvenient timing. You couldn’t believe you were more focused on swooning over him than your life being in danger. Maybe your body just knew you were safe in his presence, and all worries washed away.

Today was no different. After so many encounters with villains and criminals, they started to not scare you, you knew he’d rescue you. So when a giant slimy tentacle monster grabs hold of you, the usual sense of fear didn’t overwhelm you it like so often did. You did scream at first, as the monster coiled it’s long tendril around your ankle and houses you up in the air. Blood flowed to your head quickly and you squirmed. Of course this happens the day you wore a skirt.

Just like clockwork, you saw the familiar neon red webs go flying by as Spider-Man swung in. And like every single time you grew so wet at the sight of him, your mind completely forgetting about the danger you are in.

“You should really be careful. Wouldn’t want a monster swallowing you up now~” Spider-Man teased as he tied the beast up with his webs. He did take notice of your skirt, exposed panties so wet. He’s so distracted he doesn’t notice the monster swinging a tentacle at him, slamming him against a building.

His suit glitched, and you could see his face for a brief moment. Your eyes widen in shock when you immediately recognize him. Miguel O’Hara. The mafia boss that practically ruled the country with his power. He was Spider-Man? He was the one saving everyone? The one that made you feel so incredibly horny every time you saw that blue and red suit.

He quickly got his suit fixed before getting back in the fight, easily defeating this monster. The tendril let go of you and you fell to the ground with a yelp. He caught you in those muscular arms and your heart skipped a beat. Spider-Man, well... Miguel, brought you to the rooftop of a tall building and set you down to make sure you're not injured.

“So...” You started, “You're Miguel O'Hara, huh?” That was a very bold starter sentence, even for you. His head snapped in your direction, the eyes of his mask squinting as he looked at you.

“Who told you that?” He growled.

You suddenly realize what the fuck you just did and you back up against the railing. “Well your suit glitched and I saw your face and-” You cut yourself off when you heard him chuckle. He was laughing at you?

“I figured you'd find out eventually, Carino. With how wet you are I just knew you'd learn sooner or later.” A deep blush spread across your cheeks as you realized he had seen your panties, soaked with your slick just from watching him as he saved you. You subconsciously closed your legs, and he definitely noticed.

Without saying another word he scooped you up again and took you to your apartment. You knew where this was going, and the thought just soaked your panties even more as you clung to him. He entered your apartment through the window and his mask dissolved so you could see his face clearly. He truly did look intimidating face to face, but you didn’t feel any fear.

Miguel looked around your apartment before looking back at you. He smirked before pushing you against the wall, and you pulled him into a deep kiss, feeling a bit impatient now. You didn’t know what came over you, you didn’t understand why you had this deep need to get fucked by him.

His hands are all over you as the two of you make out, your hands on his big shoulders. You felt the rest of his suit dissolve and his bare skin on your hands, letting out a small gasp when his hard cock sprung free against your clothed pussy. He shivered a little feeling the wet fabric on his dick.

You were lifted with ease, your legs wrapping around him as he pinned you to the wall. With a free hand he ripped your panties off using his talons. He rubbed his cock between your wet folds, getting it all slick and lubed up. You let out another gasp when you saw the size, now you were scared. How could that fucking fit? He was huge!

As he rubbed against you, the tip kept teasing your needy hole and covering your pussy with precum. You pulled him closer with your legs and he grunted when he felt the tip almost enter you.

“Cálmate…” He groaned into your ear before dipping his head to kiss your neck, nipping and leaving hickeys. His actions as well as the feeling of the cock tease your clit made you moan. You whine and try to pull him against you more. He gives in this time, pressing the tip into your hole slowly.

You moan as he enters you, feeling your pussy stretch so tight around him. He goes slow at first, pushing in inch by inch until he’s completely buried in you. His hands grab and grope as your body, your hips, your tits, your ass, he wants to feel all of you. He groaned when he couldn’t and started ripping the rest of your clothes off so he can see your skin against his.

His hands settled on your hips as he started rocking his slowly, moving his length in and out. It was agonizing. You needed more. To feel more. Your hands found their way to his waist and you tried to make him pick up his speed. He let out a chuckle, and suddenly your hands were tied with red webs, suspended to the ceiling. Now you were truly at his mercy.

You moaned as his pace quickened, your pussy clenching around his girth as he fucked you into the wall. Your mind went fuzzy, all thoughts consumed by Miguel and how fucking amazing he felt inside you. Your head fell against his shoulder as more beautiful moans escaped your lips. He whispered praises in your ear, telling you how good you felt on him and how amazing you sounded.

As you clenched around him more he groaned. He had been pent up all day, and everything about you was just pulling him to the edge. He did not want to release first, and he started thrusting faster in hopes to make you cum first, to give you a mind blowing orgasm. You moan against his shoulder as the tip of his cock hit that special spot.

His hand traveled down, and he started to play with your clit. You squirm and cry as he rubs circles around your bud, feeling that familiar tightness in your stomach.

“Shit I… fuck I’m close…” You moaned and he nodded in response, speeding up with hand to match the pace of his cock. A few more thrusts and you were undone, letting out a loud cry as you came all over his dick, tightening around him over and over. He grunted and hilted in you as he released as well, filling you up with his cum.

He rocked his hips slowly as you both rode out your orgasms, placing kisses to your neck and shoulders. Once you both calmed down you whined as the overstimulation as he continued his slow thrusts. He finally pulled out and you sighed in relief, your clit twitching from so my stimulation.

“Does this make me your hot trophy wife?” You joked as you panted, earning a grin from him. “You know ‘cause of the mafia thing. We could make this a regular thing~” You chuckled.

“I guess it would keep you out of trouble. So we’ll see, depends how much you can take.” He smirked, and your eyes widened when he moved you to the couch, cock already hardening again as he positioned you for round two…

[tayytae]

You should do one where bill fuckes a Freader and overstimulates her cause he’s so sexually frustrated till she uses a safe word and then he takes care of her like a princess 🫶 I love your writing you just might be my new fav writer 🧏‍♂️ if your not comfortable you defs don’t have to do it <3

AW THANK UUU!!?? I LOVE U

“Melody of Frustration”

Synopsis: Bill, who comes home angry after a disappointing band practice where he kept messing up his singing. His bandmates' teasing adds to his frustration, leading him to take his anger out on his girlfriend..

BRO IK THIS ISNT EXACTLY WHAT U WANTED- BUT I REALLT NEED TO PIST I FEEL BAD (NOT PROOF READ)

Bill stormed into the house, his face flushed with anger and frustration. He had just come from a disastrous band practice where his singing had been off-key and filled with mistakes. To make matters worse, his bandmates had teased him mercilessly, poking fun at his missed notes and laughing at his expense.

As soon as he entered the living room, he saw his girlfriend sitting on the couch, reading a book.

“Hey," I greeted him with a smile, unaware of his mood.

Bill scowled and tossed his shoes off and onto the floor. "Don't 'hey' me," he snapped, his voice sharp with irritation.

I looked up, surprised by his tone. "What's wrong, Bill?"

He paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair. "Everything's wrong! I can't believe how awful I sounded at practice, and then those idiots won't let me forget it."

I frowned, concern clouding my features. "I'm sorry, babe. That sounds really tough."

"You have no idea," Bill muttered, still seething with anger.

Suddenly, without thinking, he lashed out at me. "And what are you doing just sitting there? Why don't you ever understand how I feel?!"

I recoiled slightly, hurt evident in her eyes. "I do understand, Bill. I'm here for you, always."

He immediately regretted his harsh words, realizing he had unfairly taken his anger out on the person who cared about him the most. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just so frustrated."

I nodded, a small smile returning to my face. "It's okay, Bill. We all have our moments. But remember, I'm on your side no matter what."

Bill took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I know, and I'm grateful for that. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to make it up to me, Bill. Just know that I'm here to support you, even on your bad days."

Bill looks at you with teary eyes, his expression full of gratitude and love. "Thank you, love. That means everything to me. I don't deserve you." He leans in and presses his lips against yours gently. "I'm lucky to have you in my life."

I felt Bill’s hands grab me by the waist and pull me closer, then trailed his hands down to my ass. I let out a slight moan as our kiss continued to grow more rough and demanding.

Feeling my body respond to his touch, Bill deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth as his hands squeeze my ass firmly. "God, I want you so fucking bad,"

“Gonna make it up to you love, I promise..” Bill said, just above a whisper as he removed his lips and attached them to my neck.

Bill trails kisses down my neck, nipping at my skin lightly as his hands roam up my body, reaching for the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up over my head, revealing my bare chest and gasps at the sight. "You're absolutely breathtaking, my love."

I covered myself with my arms, a bit embarrassed and shyness of my body takes over; despite Bill’s compliment. Bill notices my hesitation and immediately pulls my hands away from my body, holding them gently in his. "No, don't hide yourself from me, love. You're perfect in every way. I want to see all of you, but only if you're comfortable."

I nod and then glance up at his towering figure, “Please.. I need you.”

Bill's eyes darken with desire as he takes in my words. "Thank god, because I need you too." He swiftly removes his own shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs, before moving his hands to my pants. "May I?"

I nodded again, my eyes watching his movements intensely as i felt my legs get hotter. Bill slowly undoes my pants, sliding them down my legs along with my underwear until i’m standing in front of him completely naked.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous." He leans down and presses a kiss to your stomach, causing you to shiver at the sensation.

With a swift motion, Bill carefully lays me down on the couch, his eyes drinking in every inch of my body as he kneels between my legs. "You're so fucking beautiful." He leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, causing me to gasp at the sensation.

“Oh, bill-“ I couldn’t finish my sentence as I felt his lips suck my clit. My hands gripping his hair as I throw my head back in pleasure.

Bill smirks against my skin, his tongue swirling circles around my clit as he sucks gently. He uses his fingers to tease my entrance, occasionally sliding a finger inside to prepare me for what's to come. "You taste so fucking good, love. Better than I even imagined."

Bill groans against my skin at the feeling of my thighs tightening around his face, the vibrations only adding to my pleasure as he continues to suck and tease my clit with his tongue. "Mmm fuck, you're so fucking wet. And for me, all mine."

I’ve been occasionally moaning, but at this rate im whimpering and letting out loud moans as his fingers move faster in me, curling them to my g-spot with such good memory.

Bill smirks against my skin, his fingers moving faster and faster inside of me as he continues to suck and lick at my clit, his memory serving him well as he expertly curls his fingers to hit your g-spot. "Fuck, come for me beautiful.”

I clenched around his digits as I let out a loud moan, my white juice coating his fingers.

Bill's smirk widens as he pulls his fingers out of me, watching as my white juice coats his fingers. He brings them up to his mouth and sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savors the taste. "Mhm- you taste amazing.”

I glance up at him with tired eyes, before bill quickly unbottons his pants and pulls down his jeans; along with his boxers.

Bill's cock springs free, already hard and ready for me. He steps out of his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the couch with me, positioning himself between my legs. "Do you want me to fuck you, baby?"

I nod as I wrap my legs around him, “Fuck Bill, I would want nothing more.” my red cheeks becoming more noticeable as I smile slightly.

Bill lines himself up with my entrance before slowly pushing inside of me, giving a low groan at the feeling of my tightness surrounding him. "Fuck, you always feel so good. But right now, I need to fuck you hard and fast.”

At that moment, Bill speeds up his pace and fucks me dumb. My face completely twists as I feel every inch of him in me. “Mm- Bill!” I moaned, my hands resting on his chest as he takes me rough.

Bill grips onto my hips, pulling me against him with each thrust as he fucks me hard and fast. He watches as my face contorts with pleasure, the moans that leave my lips driving him wild. "God damn, you're so fucking tight. You wasting my cock like that?"

I nod, moans and whimpers leaving my mouth. His name being repeated and repeated, as if it’s the only word i’d ever known.

Bill groans as he feels me starting to tighten around his cock, my moans and whimpers driving him even closer to the edge. He speeds up his pace, fucking me even harder and faster as he feels himself getting closer. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Cum with me."

As if I could tell the future, my juices cover his dick and a ring appears at the bottom of his cock. A loud moan escapes my mouth as I gripped onto his shoulders.

Feeling me tighten around him and my juices coating his cock sends Bill over the edge. He groans loudly as he releases himself inside of me, the ring at the bottom of his cock pulsing as he fills me with his release. "Fuck, baby..”

Bill's breathing is heavy as he collapses on top of me, his sweaty forehead pressed against mine. He pant from the intense orgasm that just ran through him and rest his weight on me. "Shit, babe..”

“Y-You still mad..?” I panted through my heavy breathing.

Bill chuckles and tilts his head to press a soft kiss on my lips before answering. "No, I'm not mad anymore. That dumbass band practice just had me heated, but seeing you like this... It takes all the anger away and just leaves me wanting to give you more..”

I nod, Bill leaning over and kissing the top of my head.

“Round 2?..”

—

BYE BRO I LOVE THIS LOWKKKKK

Ok so like i havent posted ina minute.. so idk

[flomelias]

the boys ; nsfw alphabet!

requested by anon! afab, feminine reader. includes the deep. warning for nsfw. fandom masterlist found here. 🖍️ . . . author notes: sorry this took so long to roll out! my mental health’s been so up & down <\3 but i think i’m back on track!

the deep

— a = aftercare — doesn’t know the world aftercare. he does know generally to hold you for a few minutes afterwards. but i’ll be honest his street name with women is probably “get off and go”… the ridiculous way he fucks and ducks would be funny if it wasn’t so annoying. just coax him ( or demand of him ) to stay. you’ll have to train him a little like a pavlov dog but he’ll get there.

— b = body part — not sure about your favorite body part of his but his favorite part of you is likely your tits. i think kevin’s a total boob guy, they’re just so aesthetically pleasing to him. doesn’t matter if they’re big enough for him to rest his head on or small enough to fit fully in his palm; he loves tits.. first thing he does when a girl undresses is sucks on her nipples. he’s actually really good at palming, kissing, sucking, and occasionally nipping at your breasts.

— c = cum — a tinge salty. usually a warm off-white color. thick, also. the deep’s favorite place to cum is of course on your tits, but he also enjoys seeing your thighs all sticky and shaky too.

— d = dirty secret — is not an anal virgin! i just know he’s taken it up the ass at least once, though he refuses to say whether it was from pegging or from a man. one day you bring pegging into the picture and moskowitz’s a little too casual about letting you slide that strap of yours into his eager hole. it’s a lot less tight than you imagined, too.. that’s when you realize he’s not new to the concept.

— e = experience — he’s fairly experienced especially in the realm of vanilla sex. he’s not new to toys or to taking it up the ass but he doesn’t exactly say that he’s experienced with those things.. so you’re introducing them and thinking he’s never done it before and then you’re like “wow he’s taking this really well… wait.” i feel like he goes on freaky side quests so he’s got knowledge on some more taboo things but he’s slightly ashamed of it in a way? he’s ashamed of getting off to things like being pegged or being in positions where his partner’s in power. fragile masculinity and such.

— f = favorite position — he would probably tell his friends something stupid like “whichever one where she’s bent over and i’m fucking her from behind”. but secretly? kevin’s favorite positions involve you standing up or sitting in a chair and him on his knees or somehow lower than you. when he gets to kiss up your legs or eat you out from under — sometimes you make him ride your boot and ( despite his hesitation each time ) he likes it a lot more than he cares to admit. he likes being put in his place. loves when you ride him like he’s nothing, too. he’s fucking you but you’re still in charge.

— g = goofy — he’s usually pretty goofy, making jokes until you tell him or force him to shut up. on the bright side, things will never be awkward! he’s relaxed enough to let a lot of mistakes slide if you’re inexperienced. he’ll laugh it off, though he might bring it up to tease you later. i think the only time he’s not so goofy is when you’ve got him needy and restless, pleading with you for something. when he’s all desperate, his only focus is behaving for you. no jokes, just pleas and whimpers and those darling eyes of his tearing up as he begs.

— h = hair — shaves when you ask. doesn’t shave unless you ask him to or unless he gets bored and wants to clean himself up.

— i = intimacy — the deep is definitely not the most romantic in the book but he tries during foreplay. he’ll press his forehead to yours and maybe make a corny ocean related love pun. you’ll laugh and he really likes that, your laugh, and he’ll kiss your neck and then.. he’ll see your chest rise and fall and.. fuck, he’s getting hard. and then it’s all out the window — sex, now. please. he’ll be romantic again afterwards if you’ve schooled him on aftercare but — babe, when you look so good and you’re already so close to him? sex, sex, sex.

— j = jack off — sometimes calls you in the middle of the work day just to jerk off. he finds it so hot when you talk him through it from wherever you are.. also, moskowitz has definitely jerked off in the seven meeting room when no one else is around 😭 don’t flash any uv lights around his spot at that fucking table. if you tell him not to masturbate, he’ll try his best not to. but, i do think he is a victim of supe libido ( though not as much as a-train.. ).

— k = kink — being dominated easy. this is a man born to be a sub, forced to be a dom. doesn’t mean he doesn’t love pounding into your cunt every so often and making you scream his name despite yourself. but he is just as, if not more interested in being your little boy toy to use and abuse and all those things. and then tell him he’s a big strong man afterwards, that’s the cherry on top. he just took your strap like a champ — only real, tough men can do that!

— l = location — if you’re down, he’s down, especially when he’s horny. any location will do, though preferably somewhere with a little bit of privacy so he doesn’t have others seeing your body.

— m = motivation — the deep’s not extremely easily motivated but, c’mon. it’s you. if he’s in love with you he’s going to be aroused by whatever you happen to do in relation to him. you compliment his work? hard. you laugh at one of his stupid jokes? hard. you slap him? ouch.. hard. and probably needy too.

— n = no — don’t touch his gills ever or he will freak out. it honestly takes a bit of time for him to even be comfortable taking off his shirt around you. i think this is something you could try to work on but even as he grows more confident in himself and his body, kevin doesn’t want you touching his gills. you can kiss around them, however, once he’s close with you.

— o = oral — oral king. loves to eat, loves to be sucked. absolute adores oral, it’s easy and it’s fun and it makes his toes curl, giving or receiving. genuinely, i think he’d be a big fan of it.

— p = pace — depends on his mood, your mood, and what you’re both wanting in that moment. he’s usually not very sloppy until the very end unless he’s been edged for a while. every now and then he wants it fast and reckless but most of the time he’s fine with going at a medium sort of speed.

— q = quickie — if it’s oral then yes to quickies! but a strong no outside of that. moskowitz doesn’t want to fuck you for ten minutes, no, he wants it to stretch. to be fair, head is like perfect for quickies anyways. especially if you’re giving and he’s been pent up that day.

— r = risk — generally, if you’re down, he’s down. just talk to him about it while you’re kissing on each other, don’t spring it on him. you might have to walk him through the concepts you’re bringing up, maybe have a video handy.

— s = stamina — supe stamina is nothing to play with. he stops when you tell him to but if you don’t speak up he knows to stop when you’re all fucked out and babbling or out of breath. especially if he’s sub, he stops when he thinks you can’t take anymore because he’s a good boy who can take care of you. the deep doesn’t want to fuck you to death, silly.

— t = toys — not inexperienced with them but not a full fledged toy master. he’s open to using whatever you have if it looks interesting or sounds promising.

— u = unfair — every time he tries to play unfair, you quickly put him in his place and he loves that. just a little bit of a brat sometimes. he’ll tell you to beg for his dick and all you have to do is pull his hair a little — he’s rolling his eyes all playful and pretending like he’s not harder from that. “okay, okay, miss impatient…” as kevin lines himself at your entrance.

— v = volume — not loud, not quiet. kind of just average or normal? he doesn’t like it when you’re quiet though, makes him feel like he’s fucking a dead fish. react, respond, insult him, anything. just don’t be quiet, don’t seem bored.

— w = wild card — i think you guys should try using vibrators on each other throughout the day. i think he’d enjoy that. you both come home all shaky and aching and desperate for each other, barely making it to the bedroom because you’re undressing each other in the hall. 🫶

— x = x-ray — again, not good at describing penises. i don’t think his is the prettiest but it’s definitely big. homelander’s is the prettiest in my mind.

— y = yearning — medium to high range supe libido. jokes about fucking you all the time but he’s really not as sex obsessed as you’d think.

— z = zzz — he likes sleeping with you after sex a lot.. it’s something that surprises even him, as usually he does the good ol’ fuck and duck. he loves when you cuddle into him or when he’s able to cuddle into you, holding onto you by the waist and finally relaxing. he’s so content with the sound of your breathing or snoring. like constant ocean waves.. so comforting. you’re like home to him, in moments like these.

[ap41cu5]

ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US (lars pinfield fan!!!!) if you’re still taking requests, could you possibly do one where lucky teases lars on his obvious crush on the reader/character? and reader/character picks up on his nervousness and awkwardness?? sorry if it’s a bit vague. remember to take care of urself and thank you in advance <3 :)

Stifled

Lars Pinfield x Fem! Reader Rating: Slight NSFW - Suggestive Themes Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2464

A/N: thanks so much for your request anon! i really hope this is what you were looking for. ive noticed im struggling to write him completely in character, but i did my best! i hope you enjoy <3

“Oh, please. You totally do! There’s no point in denying it anymore!” You heard Lucky exclaim from the other room before she was hastily hushed.

“Would you keep your voice down!?” Lars seethed as he attempted to hush Lucky. 

You were quite literally just one step away from the door, but clearly you were about to walk in on a conversation you weren’t supposed to be hearing.

At first the plan was to come back later, but the next thing you heard immediately motivated you to stay. While you normally weren’t the type to eavesdrop, maybe just today you’d listen for just a few seconds longer.

“Well, it’s not like it matters anyway! You always get so nervous and uptight around her. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you hated her,” Lucky commented.

Who are they talking about? 

Shooting her a glare, he refused to answer and only turned back toward his desk.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” He irritatedly asked, his tone making it clear that he wanted her to leave.

Lucky hopped onto one of the tables, “why? You want me to go so that you’ll both get some precious alone time once she gets back?” Lucky teased him, a smug grin plastering across her face.

Lars has a crush. The realization struck you right in the gut, one of your hands clutching the side of your uniform. 

You couldn’t help the fact that you liked him. There was something about his high intelligence, his attentiveness to detail, and occasional sass that drew you to him, despite him always acting standoffish whenever you were around. 

The possibility of him catching feelings for someone else broke your heart. You couldn’t stand the thought of him being with someone who wasn’t you.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go. But I can already smell the look on your face once she gets back!” Lucky giggled on her way out the door.

You immediately began to panic. You could hear her footsteps rapidly growing closer, and there was nowhere to hide in the sector of the lab you were in. So you took the only choice you had and tried to walk through the door as casually as you could muster.

Taking a quick deep breath in and walking in through the door, you were immediately met with Lucky’s face just inches away from yours.

An awkward split second passed where you both just stared at each other before she finally said, “(First Name)! Funny seeing you here!” She raised her voice, making sure Lars could hear her.

“I work here,” you chuckled, “I just got back from my lunch break.” You held up a paper bag containing your leftovers.

She animatedly nodded, “I see, I see. Well, I’ll catch you later, (First Name)!” She slipped past you, “have fun, Lars!”

She gave Lars a knowing look as she walked off, shooting you a quick wink as well.

Lucky was always energetic and cheerful, but she carried a much more playful attitude than usual. Your interest piqued, especially given the previous conversation they had. 

You placed your lunch bag down onto your desk as you turned your head to look at Lars. The moment you looked over, you saw his head shift back down to his desk, as though he was already looking at you. Part of you immediately pondered what that look could have possibly meant, but you tried not to overthink it. He probably wanted to see who was approaching, as if Lucky somehow hadn’t made it obvious enough. But you tried not to overthink it. Last thing you’d want would be to get your hopes up only to get shattered once you found out who it was that Lars truly had feelings for.

Despite all of your jumbled thoughts and feelings, you felt a bit bored. You finished the majority of your experiments earlier. You had astute problem solving abilities, but Lars was the one case you just couldn’t crack. 

You just couldn’t understand why he hated being around you so much. You were almost always nice, polite, and sweet. And every morning for the past couple of months, you’d arrive at work with a fresh cup of coffee sitting atop of your desk. He had taken the time to memorize how you liked your coffee, and that had to mean something, didn’t it? He couldn’t hate you that much, could he?

Approaching his desk, wandering eyes took a curious peek at what he was working on.

“How’s your experiment coming along?” You asked from over his shoulder.

He immediately seemed to be startled by your presence. The contraption he had been so carefully inspecting clattered to the ground as he flinched, hastily spinning around to face you.

You couldn’t tell if you were imagining it, or if his eyes seemed to soften just for the ephemeral moment they met yours. His expression quickly went from surprised to a mix of embarrassment and fear. A notably unfamiliar expression from him.

“What do you want?” He awkwardly cleared his throat before quickly turning back around.

Just for a second could you see a soft hint of blush tinting his cheeks as he made a clear effort not to look at you. But what did it mean? Why was he so nervous all of the sudden?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you meekly apologized. “You seem a bit uptight. Is everything okay?”

He huffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sure,” you replied, sarcasm evident in your voice.

“Maybe you’re just more annoying than usual,” he spat, giving you the cold shoulder.

You sighed at his unsurprisingly cold response.

“Have I done something?” You asked, feeling a bit remorseful.

He seemed to tense up all over again at the question as he fumbled with whatever tool he had in his hand at the moment.

“No, everything’s fine. There’s something I must tend to,” he paused for a half second, presumably to come up with a place. “In the bathroom.”

A few seconds passed where you couldn’t find the words to respond. He’d been acting so awkward lately, more awkward than usual.

“...In the bathroom?” You reiterated, unsure if you really heard him correctly.

“Yes– yes, in the bathroom. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he hastily set down the tool, the other gadget he was holding fumbling out of his grip and clattering onto the surface of his desk.

His boots squeaked against the tile flooring of the lab as he made a beeline down the hallway to the restroom. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit heartbroken. The way he acted so disgusted with you to the point where he couldn’t even stand being in the same room as you made you sick.

“Gee, what’s his deal, am I right?” You heard a voice emerge from behind you.

“Oh, hey Gary,” you greeted him, unable to hide the pain in your voice.

“Agh, don’t sound so disappointed!” He gave your arm a light pat as he crunched on an apple, “seems like he’s like that with everyone. If you ask me, though, I get the feeling he likes you too.”

You scoffed, almost laughing at his response.

“I highly doubt that, Gary. You saw how he acted around me. It’s like he hates me, or something!” You groaned into the palms of your hands like a petulant teenager.

He leaned closer to your ear, “let’s keep this between us, but for him to get all awkward and riled up like that? That’s gotta mean something. Take it from me, he likes you.”

You sighed. While he did sound convincing, you really didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I guess so. I hope you’re right,” you replied, until it finally dawned on you.

“Wait, how did you know I liked him?” You asked, brows furrowing.

He wheezed in response, nearly choking on a bit of his apple.

“Well, shit, is everyone in this lab oblivious, or what?” He chuckled, “trust me, though! I’m a guy. I know how guys act. I mean, he brings you coffee every morning, for Pete’s sake.”

“That’s exactly what makes him so confusing! He took the time out of his day to memorize how I like my coffee, and yet every time I try to talk to him he acts like– he acts like I’m some sort of pest!” You couldn’t tell if you were angry or sad, probably both.

“That’s what I’m telling you! He just doesn’t know how to act around you.” He took another bite of his apple, “I’ve gotta go help Trevor with something back at the firehouse. I’ll catch you later, (First Name),” Gary took his leave, making his way down the hall.

You sat back down at your desk, sinking into your chair as his words replayed in your head. Was it really true? Could it be possible that the person Lucky was teasing Lars about just before your arrival– was it you?

After what seemed to be a few more minutes, Lars finally returned to the bathroom and began working on his usual projects. You decided to leave him alone, sinking into your own work, or at least trying to. But you couldn’t help the fact that Lars was living rent free in the back of your mind, hindering your focus at every opportunity.

Looking back down at your paper, you finally came to terms with the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn’t be able to get any work done until you found out the truth. No matter how painful that truth may be.

“Lars?” You called out, turning in your chair.

“What is it this time?”

You huffed, part of you wondering if you should have just taken that response as an answer in itself.

“Why do you hate me so much?” The question came out sounding far more vulnerable than you intended.

He sighed, one of his hands messily making its way through his hair.

“I don’t,” there was a painfully long pause, “hate you.”

That response in itself was enough to surprise you. But you wanted more.

“I don’t understand.” you replied. “You avoid me at almost every chance you get, and you’re always mean to me. You bring me coffee every morning and yet every time I try to get closer to you, you push me away.”

You heard him groan, his head in his hands as he exasperatedly threw his head back. 

“You’re intolerable,” he said. “I hate the way that you bite the tip of your pen, I hate how you twirl your hair around your fingers, I hate your stupid sense of humor, I hate–” 

You were about to open your mouth and you weren’t sure if you were about to tell him to go fuck himself or that you hated him just as equally. Neither of which you would’ve actually meant, but you could feel yourself grow hurt, angry, and confused all at the same time with every word he said.

He seemed to contemplate whether or not to continue, “I hate how beautiful you are without even trying! Do you know how hard it is to focus whenever you’re near me?”

Oh.

It all made sense now. You felt your fists unclench and timed seem to slow down as your brain needed time to process what he just said.

Your legs seemed to move on their own as you approached Lars’ tense form. His hands clutched either side of his desk as his head hung low.

“Lars–” your voice was low and gentle.

“Please don’t say anything,” he pleaded. “I know you must be repulsed by me and that’s no one’s fault but my own–”

You’re not sure what came over you, but you quickly tilted his head towards you, standing on your tippy toes as you pressed your lips against his. His breath seemed to get caught in the pit of his throat as he stood completely frozen.

You quickly pulled away the moment you didn’t feel him kiss back, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked–”

Your apology was quickly interrupted by the feeling of his hands tenderly gripping the sides of your face as he pulled you back in for another kiss. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and gently pressed your body up against his, a low grumble escaping his chest.

Your tongue gently grazed his bottom lip, requesting an entrance as you felt him exhale against you. He melted into you as he pressed your back against the front of his desk, one of his legs finding their way in between your thighs. Your hands made their way into his soft blonde curls, gently tugging on them as he let out another groan. Your bodies felt like they were melting into one other, like you belonged with each other. 

“Do you have any idea how painfully irresistible you are?” He grumbled into your skin, his lips pressing against the lower part of your jaw.

You sharply inhaled through your teeth. The feeling of him kissing down your neck sending a shiver down your spine.

“I hadn’t realized you were so pent up,” you replied, nails digging into the back of his uniform.

“Spent so many late nights where you were all I could think about. You have no idea how frustrating that was, do you?” his leg pressed against you, making you squirm.

“Why d’you think I kept trying to get closer to you? I love looking at your stupidly handsome face,” you murmured, licking your lips and going in to kiss him again.

“That right?” his head was tilted as his teeth sunk down on your lower lip.

“It is,” you felt yourself growing needy.

“Ahem!”

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat could be heard throughout the lab as you both quickly pulled away from each other. Eyes darting to the source of the nose, you were both met by sight of Winston standing in the doorway.

“I was about to congratulate the both of you on your latest findings, but it seems like the two of you are.. busy right now.” He bore an awkward expression, “look, I’ll come back another time. But please not in the lab. That’s disgusting.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “yeah, no. Of course. That’s– we’re at work that would be so unsanitary. And gross. We would never–” Lars had to interrupt your awkward rambling by giving you a quick nudge.

Winston gave the both of you an awkward nod as he quickly walked off.

“Would you want to get takeout on the way home? I can drive you,” Lars meekly suggested.

You couldn’t fight the smile that pricked at the sides of your mouth, “that sounds lovely, Lars.”

[97keanu]

Digital Angel

Premise: In chapter four, we finally reconcile these two nerds into speaking again. A new deal is struck, and our two hackers might just be able to find love along the way. That is, if Neo can quell his new obsession with watching you without your knowledge…

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slowburn, eventual smut, loser!neo, perv!neo, goth!reader, hacker!reader, reader is trying to forget Neo existed, Neo is not going to let that happen, enemies to friends to lovers, stalking, obsession, themes of loneliness and longing.

Words: 2.4k

Read chapters 1-3 here! Be added to Neo’s taglist here!

Last night’s rain has begun to tame the heat of Chicago, which you now walk down without a care in sight. You bounce on platform heels that come up just under your knees, hair teased to delightful extremes, and a black lipped smirk that has strangers moving out of your way. You were sick of being holed up in your apartment for so long, waiting on some half assed ‘knight in shining armor’, or should you say, trench coat. Even though it still hurt that Neo ghosted you, after a few weeks, you had to move on. It was more important than any hacking case he sent you tonight, you needed to feel like yourself again, first and foremost.

You enter Club Hel and greet the bouncer, who of course asks where you have been. You shrug and give a nonchalant answer before moving towards the call of the dance floor inside. Nine Inch Nails blasts through the speakers, Reznor whispering all sorts of filthy things he would like to do to all who can listen. You find the beat in your body and join the other gothic souls trying to get lucky on a Friday night.

You grind into a girl who has bright purple hair and a lip piercing, she laughs along with you as you kiss along her neck and hold her hips into yours. Tonight was all about having fun, you’ve decided. Not to think about Neo and his stupid cute face and the way he has avoided you for so long. You instead, turn your attention to feeling the fishnets on the thighs of the girl dancing with you, and soon enough the wind changes and you’re happily dancing with someone else.

That’s what you liked about being here. That you were so free. Free to do what you pleased, enjoy others' company without even saying a word, perhaps even quell that deep pit of loneliness that has opened inside you with a kiss from a stranger. You do just that as someone else pulls you in, letting their drunken lips taste yours, red lipstick meeting your black ones.

You have no idea that while you forget your inhibitions, the person whose attention you want most is watching from the balcony…

———

Neo knew you were coming out tonight. He saw you getting ready through your webcam, and broke down and checked your IM’s to see where exactly you would be. That’s why he’s standing here, holding some kind of red liquid he doesn’t even really want to drink in a cheap black goblet. He leans his elbows on the balcony’s edge, looking down at the dance floor, watching as your lips connect with another’s. A part of him is pissed seeing this kind of behavior. He wants you all to himself, that much he has come to understand. The other part of him is turned on by watching your form move, tight black latex dress holding your curves better than any dance partner, the color glistening under the red lights.

Neo knows what he has to do. He has to get your attention, but he was never a good dancer. Or at least, he had never tried, he should say. This type of crowd was a place he had never been invited to before you, so the idea of going down there, working his way through the sweaty bodies, until he could plant himself there to grind against your lovely form, was a nightmare. He tried not to let his nerves get to him, instead watching you.

Despite initial jealousy, he knows he can’t be mad since you two aren’t officially dating, nor have you been on an official date whatsoever, no thanks to him. He was the one who got scared, who got too close to your flame that the warmth frightened him off. What could he expect from you? To have you wait forever? You were never the type, that much was easy to see. Instead, Neo finds himself appreciating that you kept doing what you do, being yourself in face of his rejection. It was really quite sexy actually.

He watches as you’re sandwiched between two other women, screaming out the lyrics to Love My Way by The Psychedelic Furs, full of life and laughter. Neo considers leaving, not ruining your night, letting you have fun with people your own age and all but forgetting about him besides the hacking projects you two complete together. Even that, he could try to turn away from, if it meant you more happiness. It was clear how down the whole situation had made you, too many nights spent all alone in your room, too many nights coming home early when you should have been out.

Letting you go would be the right thing to do.

But Neo has never done the right thing when it comes to you.

———

Your fair share of drinks have been bought for the night, and you feel the world around you move hypnotically. Your thoughts are lost in heavy bass and droning music, songs that you love coming on so you can shout your heart out without shame. You had almost forgotten that hole in your heart that had been consuming you the past few weeks.

That was until you felt a new pair of hands snake around your hips, fingers enjoying the feeling of the latex on your dress. You grind into the stranger as you have been doing, letting them feel your ass against them. To your surprise, they react differently than the other club patrons have been to such a move. Usually, you were being fondled and groped deeper when you invited it in such a way, but instead, the fingers of this stranger linger, slowly moving down your dress to touch your exposed thighs, almost marveling at how soft your skin feels there. Everything was perfect until you turned to see who this unusual, mysterious stranger was, your drunken eyes going wide with the sight.

There, in his best gothic attire(which wasn’t saying much), stood Neo. You looked into those dark eyes of his and could see there was caution there as well, as if he was unsure of how you would react to finding out your dance partner for the last minute or so was him.

“What are you doing here?” You blurt out over the speakers, confusion bringing your thin eyebrows together.

“Only place I knew you frequented.” He responded plainly, walking a bit as if to offer to find a better place to speak, knowing that a talk was in order.

You watch as he begins to move through the crowd of writhing bodies, and for a second you consider not following, letting him go after how cruel he’s been to you. Instead, you stomp after him on your platforms, wobbly after so many drinks.

You feel frustrated as he moves from you, making you physically chase after him now, not to mention ruining your night of fun away from thoughts of him by simply just being here. You two finally make it to a nearby booth, a few discarded drinks still sitting there, but Neo moves them to the side. You sit across from him, your chest bared and waist tight from your latex dress, putting you on almost full display in front of him. You hope he doesn’t think you dressed this way just for him to see.

“Look, I think an apology is owed…” He begins, looking around as if he’s nervous to be seen talking to you.

You almost scoff in his face. Who does this guy think he is?

”Um, yeah, I think it is,” you say bluntly, the liquor making you madder than you probably have a right to be in this situation. “You totally ran out on me.”

Once again, the thought that you two aren’t officially dating, so he doesn’t technically owe you anything as such crosses your mind. You throw that thought to the wind, you’re too pissed to care about the ethics of it all.

Neo hears your words, the tone in your voice, and looks down, fiddling with a black napkin that was sitting nearby. He opens his mouth to speak, his shoulders moving towards his ears as if to protect himself. He doesn’t know what to say, that much is clear.

“I just…” He tries to get out, but nothing more passes through his soft lips.

“Just? Just what Neo? Didn’t care if it hurt that you left without saying anything? Didn’t even want to come check on me at all? Just want to order me around to help you with your hacking, which I still haven’t seen a lick of pay from by the way.” You add the last part as an insult to injury here, crossing your arms underneath your breasts with a huff.

Not checked on you? If only you knew…

Neo clears his throat and puts a hand into the inner pocket of his trench coat. He pulls out a small, black bag. He passes it over the expanding space between the two of you on the table, then taps his fingers against it.

You say nothing, taking the bag and opening it. It was filled with cash, and from your short look through, enough to cover your rent for a few months or more. It was fair, for the work you’ve been doing. Your eyes glance up to where he sits nervously across from you.

“So, what? You grind up on me in the club just to hand me what you owe?” You say with snark.

“Hey, I seem to remember it was you who was doing the grinding.” He pipes back, holding up his hands in defense.

And in that second, you’re drunk enough to laugh out loud at the look on his face and the whole situation. This seems to calm his nerves for a second.

“Well, thank you, I guess,” You finally say, getting ready to stand and leave, seeing as there isn’t much else to talk about if he isn’t willing to talk about it.

As your hand moves across the table when you try to leave, Neo’s large one wraps around your wrist.

“Wait,” He starts, deep eyes looking into yours, a sense of pleading coming from him.

“You have every right to be mad at me. I shouldn’t have left when I did, and I especially should have reached out to you for more than just work after that night. I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes as he talks, as he’s afraid to see what your face will betray to him from being so open.

You say nothing, watching his eyes open, unable to contain seeing your reaction for that long, and you crack into a smile.

“Okay, okay. You’re forgiven,” You sit back down across from him. “But, I want to add a condition to our agreement.”

Neo nods along as you talk, almost ready to agree to whatever terms and conditions you have so long as you’re not mad at him anymore.

“And that condition is?” He says with wide eyes.

”That condition is,” You drag the moment out, looking down at the table before the confidence to say what you want comes. “I want us to be friends.”

Neo blinks, then blinks again, as if he hadn’t heard you right.

“Friends?” He says, as if the word is a foreign concept.

“Yep,” You say with a nod, holding out a black manicured hand across the table. “Friends. I want us to be able to talk to each other whenever we like without all the awkwardness. And I would appreciate it if we could go and hang out with each other sometimes.”

Neo’s hand nervously slides into yours, as if he’s afraid of what he’s gotten himself into.

“Go out together, sure, we could do that sometime.” He says, then looks down at the table. “But why?”

Now, it’s your turn to be confused.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, curious as to why he would ask such a thing.

“I mean,” He sighs out, then looks around again before speaking, then leans in. “I mean, why do you want to hang out with me? I’m hardly the type you usually go for if your dance partners for tonight were any hint.”

“I don’t ask my dance partners to go out with me during the day…Usually.” You say with a laugh, trying to make him understand that what happens here isn’t as deep of a connection as he thinks it is.

“But, I’m like ten years older than you, at least. And I’m not super into all this,” He waves a hand to the environment around him. “Goth-y kind of stuff. Not that there’s anything wrong with it…”

“I’m sure there’s a baby bat hiding in you somewhere, Neo.” You tease him, leaning forward as you speak. “Besides, I don’t care if you like the stuff I like. I just want someone to talk to…”

You don’t know if it was the liquor that made you comfortable enough to say that last part, or if your overwhelming need for true connection had finally come to a head, but you’re glad you said it. After you did, Neo sank back into the booth, thinking the whole thing over, before leaning in once more.

“Okay. Friends. I think I can manage that…” he says with a smile, a genuine smile that sneaks up to his eyes, makes his ears move with a tinge of delight at the concept.

“Friends it is.” You hold out a hand, and he takes it once more. “Now, as friends, let’s get our ass out on that dance floor!”

You yell with glee as Neo lets you pull him along back into the crowd, anger in each other forgotten. The promise of having a genuine connection with someone in this city was enough to sedate both of you into a more blissful night.

Still, you couldn’t help but kick yourself a little. You knew you wanted to be more with him, knew that you touched yourself just last night thinking of him, his name falling off your lips sweet like honey. But there was no way you could admit that this early. You still had no idea if he felt the same way.