#i hope i get time to sort shit out and play soon

[changingthingslikeleaves]

Buck keeps busy. He helps Eddie pack the house. The landlord in El Paso covers utilities, but he changes the billing address on Eddie’s NFL+ and MLB.TV subscriptions, reminds Eddie that the password to Buck’s Disney Plus account is in the email that Buck sent him the day after he signed up for it. He calls movers and gets quotes, finds Eddie a place to do the 60,000-mile service on his truck, maps the three closest grocery stores to his new house like Eddie didn’t spend the first eighteen years of his life in El Paso and is incapable of feeding himself.

It's what Buck does. He has to be useful, anticipate what Eddie needs, because that’s all he can do right now. Of course Eddie has to go, no matter what, because of course Christopher is the most important thing.

Keeping busy gets him through it all, from that first house viewing on Eddie’s couch to the last piece of tape on the last box. He doesn’t see Eddie off when he hits the road at 10 A.M. on a Saturday, because it’s hard enough saying goodbye at 8 A.M, when Eddie leaves after spending the night at Buck’s loft, his own bed packed into a U-Haul trailer attached to his truck’s towing hitch. Eddie’s got a couple final errands in town and then he’s getting on the 10 headed east.

And when Eddie’s gone, he finds stuff to do around his loft. He could go over to Maddie’s and help her sort through Jee’s old clothes and toys to figure out what she can use for the new baby, but it’s a better idea to stay home, at least this first day, to hide his red eyes. He rearranges his pantry, goes through his spices and throws out anything over two years old, moves his bed and nightstand to dust behind them.

Somehow he finds enough to occupy him the whole day, with occasional breaks to watch the most brainless documentaries he can find on Netflix. At midnight he falls into bed, hoping he’s done enough manual labor to exhaust himself and quickly drop off to sleep. At 12:03, his phone pings with a text.

9342

He stares at it a second, trying to parse why Eddie is sending him a random string of numbers.

everything ok????

this house has an electronic door lock that’s the code to get in. i guess it saves me from having to mail you a key

Buck’s surprised how much it hurts, the pain of Eddie being eight hundred miles away and yet right next to him, connected by cell phone towers and a bond that won’t break, no matter how much it’s stretched.

*

Eddie can’t be late on his second day of work. He should have had plenty of time, but when Christopher had called—actually called, on his phone—he’d dropped everything to have a conversation with his kid before his school day. By the time they’d made plans to meet up on Eddie’s next day off, his cereal had gone soggy and his coffee had cooled. He hasn’t stocked up on protein bars or shakes yet, so he’ll have to wait for whatever is available at the station.

As soon as he pulls the front door shut behind him, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything, he realizes that his phone is still in the house. The house, protected by the electronic lock, with the code carefully saved on his phone.

“Shit, code, what’s the goddamn code,” Eddie mutters. Four digits, can’t be that hard. After a few more days it will be worked into his muscle memory, but he’s only used it three times so far. 9234? No luck. 9423? Still no. At this rate he really is going to be late for work, and he reaches for his phone to call his captain, but the phone is still inside the house and the door is still locked.

“9342.���

Eddie starts in surprise. It’s not the voice of a helpful neighbor, or his landlord arriving in the nick of time, or even a divine intervention to help him get to work on time. He knows that voice, even before he turns around to see Buck, leaning against the side of his Jeep, legs outstretched and arms folded like the hero of a teenage rom-com. The captain of the football team, waiting outside the auditorium to surprise the gawky girl with the lead in the school play.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Buck unfolds his arms and walks toward him, his long legs closing the distance in five quick strides. “You sent me the code. I had to make sure it worked.”

He leans past Eddie and punches the numbers in the lock, which clunks satisfyingly open. Buck doesn’t move, his chest brushing against Eddie’s, his mouth a breath away.

“Good thing you did,” Eddie says, not even listening to the words as they come out. How can he pay attention to anything else when Buck is here, right in front of him, right where he’s supposed to be?

“You should probably write it down.” Buck moves somehow closer, and his hands settle on Eddie’s hips. “In case you ever lock your phone inside again.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be here very long,” Eddie says, closing that final inch between them in a kiss that’s sweet for a second before Buck sighs and opens his mouth, and Eddie is officially late to work, and he doesn’t care.

and well in a world where eddie does end up getting a rental in el paso for a little bit; buck is receiving a text from eddie the first night he’s gone that just inexplicably contains 4 random digits and nothing else. he is instantly replying: everything ok???? to which eddie responds with: this house has an electronic door lock 😐 that’s the code to get in. oh well. i guess it saves me from having to mail you a key. and buck has to actively rub at his chest to comfort himself over the fact that the only person he has ever felt so emotionally and intimately close to is now so physically far away.

[queercatboyrights]

current predicament

[d4yl1ghts]

Hi could I request a story where Anthony is away on business and his wife has a miscarriage while he’s gone

guilt

anthony bridgerton x pregnant, wife, fem!reader

summary: anthony is away for business and you unexpectedly lose your child

warnings: miscarriage, death, pregnancy, self-blame, panic attack

-

You groaned as you awoke to an empty bed again. Anthony was away for business and he had tried to stay home but it was required for him to go. He never usually wanted to leave you but he was especially adamant now as you were with child.

You slowly rolled out of bed and dressed into your undergarments as you awaited the arrival of your maid. She came and aided you into your outfit of the day. It was a deep blue, elegant yet simple dress as blue was your husband’s family’s signature colour. “Thank you, Harriet.”, you dismissed your maid.

As the Viscountess, you lived in Anthony’s childhood manor and so Violet and his siblings still lived there. You didn’t mind it, in fact you rather enjoyed it because you would be intensely lonely right now. Outside your door, you could hear the laughter of his younger siblings. You sighed contentedly as you imagined your baby that would be born in around sixteen weeks.

Suddenly, Violet pushed open your door. “Y/N, how are you feeling today? How’s the baby?”, she greeted. It was tradition for her to check up on you every day now that Anthony was away. “The baby is fine. Have you heard from Anthony?”, you questioned, changing the subject. “No. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, dear.”, she took your hand in hers. You attempted to smile but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Well, I’ll head down, breakfast is ready so come down whenever you want.”, Violet smiled politely as she left the room. You sighed to yourself as you were left alone again.

After five minutes of staring at the ceiling and simply thinking, you decided to go down for breakfast. You noticed that all of the Bridgertons were already there but you couldn’t ignore the absent seat at the end of the table where Anthony would sit. You sat down and quickly ate your food before dismissing yourself. You were thankful that you had entered the time of your pregnancy where morning sickness was not present.

You grabbed a book from your room and got comfortable on the sofa in the living room. You huffed slightly as you felt a pain coming from your stomach but you just ignored it and continued to read. Francesca and Eloise had also entered the room at some point as Francesca was quietly playing the piano and Eloise was reading like you.

After half an hour since the pain had begun, the discomfort became inescapable, you just couldn’t ignore it. You began wriggling around to try to get into a more comfortable position and Eloise glanced up from her book in curiosity before letting out an immense gasp. Francesca also looked up from the pianoforte and widened her eyes in shock. You stared in confusion between them. “I’ll get mama.”, Francesca hurried off. “What is wrong, Eloise?”, you asked timidly. “You’re kind of…”, she just pointed down. You looked down at your dress and only then recognised the stain of blood. You worriedly cast a glance to Eloise.

“Shit.”, you muttered as tears welled in your eyes. Your breathing rate and heart rate picked up increasingly. “Okay, don’t freak out. That’s not good.”, Eloise stated, unaware of what to do in such a situation. Finally, Violet arrived with Colin and Francesca in tow. “I have sent Benedict for the doctor.”, she simply said. She then glanced down at your panicked form with an expression of pity. “It will be okay, Y/N. The doctor will be here soon.”, she eased your worries. You silently cried to yourself. The only person you wanted was Anthony.

Violet sat beside you, hoping her presence would bring you some sort of comfort. She wanted to give you some space. Colin kept checking the corridors for Benedict and the sign of a doctor whilst Francesca and Eloise watched silently from the side. They all had saddening looks in their eyes.

Benedict finally returned as the doctor came rushing in. Violet stepped up out of the as she took your sweaty hand, trying to console you. “Colin, would you write a letter to Anthony, please? Make sure it gets there as soon as possible.”, Violet whispered. The doctor measured the baby’s heartbeat and confirmed what everyone had been dreading: there was no heartbeat- the baby was gone. You instantly broke down into more tears.

Gregory and Hyacinth heard your sobs from where they were located outside the living room door. Benedict made sure they weren’t allowed in. Violet had been containing herself, she didn’t want to be all up in your face but she needed to cradle you in her arms for her own personal comfort. She couldn’t bear the thought of you going through it alone, without your husband by your side. She could almost relate to you.

It had been three days since the incident and also three days since Colin had sent Anthony the letter. You were currently lying on your side, staring out the window. It was what seemed to preoccupy your time nowadays. You only left your room to eat and you would eat very little. Of course the Bridgerton siblings offered their help but it was only one of the siblings you wanted.

You sighed as you turned to your door as you heard a knock. “Who is it?”, you uttered with a shaky and croaky voice. Nobody responded yet the door creaked open slightly and you saw the brown eyes you had been hoping for each time someone knocked on your door. Instead of running towards him as one would have expected, you simply sat there.

Anthony stared at you before cautiously and hesitantly taking a seat beside you. He carefully took you into his steady arms and cradled you like a baby. It was almost ironic. As soon as you felt his skin on yours, water cascaded down your irritated cheeks. He gazed at you sadly before allowing himself to cry with you. He hadn’t been able to grieve yet as he rushed over to comfort you as soon as he received the letter.

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. I love you so much.”, he hushed you. “Tony… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”, more tears slid down your face. Anthony gently held your face in his calloused hands. “Y/N, I did not simply marry you for the sake of bearing my children. I love you because of who you are. I do not care what happens in the future or what has happened in the past. I need you. Never in my entire life would I think of or even fathom a life without you. I don’t know who I would be without you. You are the lighthouse to my boat, my love.”, he confessed.

Anthony suddenly moved away. “I should not have left you.”, he mumbled as his breathing picked up. “It’s my fault. If I had been here to protect you, you would not be suffering so much, Y/N.”, he rushed. You recognised it as a panic attack. He sometimes got them as a result of his father’s death. You knew how much he struggled with self-blame. “Anthony, it is not your fault. You could have never have known.”, you whispered as you kissed his ear. “It is my body.”, you said quietly.

Anthony then pressed a kiss to your temple and then a lingering one to your lips in which conveyed the meaning and honesty behind his words. You knew that with him by your side, you would be okay. “I love you.”, you simply replied, unable to put your thoughts into words. You placed your forehead against his, getting consolation from his touch.

[solbaby7]

Still Your Best

pairing: azriel x reader

inspo: Still Your Best - Giveon

warnings: jealous azriel, some teasing, sexual tension, misogyny, this some toxic relationship shit so don’t expect the right decisions to be made here

summary: You’re trying to move on after years of pining over a certain Shadowsinger but he’s not ready to let go

—

Damien was—nice.

A little predictable but he tried to be a gentlemen; held open your doors and pulled out your chairs at every dinner. He remembered the little things, was a decent cook, clean enough and worked hard.

But, you didn’t feel the spark.

Even after weeks of planned lunches and candlelit dinners accompanied with fine wines and good conversation but you couldn’t see yourself falling in love—at least not yet; not without effort. It’s partially why you’d never brought him around the Inner Circle; slightly worried about making your private life public in fears that it was moving things along too soon.

Was it normal to invite someone you didn’t love to meet your family?

There’s not enough time to really figure it out, to work out the kinds and tie lose ends before Damien is asking to meet them. “You’ve met mine.”

It was true; his family was—nice. A kind enough mother and a father who wasn’t exactly present but he was a good provider and Damien insisted that even without his dad around much, he still had a good life. You don’t think much of it until you start noticing little things; condescending responses when you tell him you’re leaving to go train with Cassian. “Enjoy it—a wife of mine will be too busy with our children to be running about playing with swords.”

You bite your tongue, deeming it too soon in the relationship to give him a piece of your mind and falling into a placating role is anything but love inducing. “You’re entitled to your opinion. It’s awfully early to be talking about that sort of thing anyway.”

Damien shrugs it off, already bored with the conversation and moving onto another. “Either way, I’d still like to meet them—your family,” Your eye twitches at the way he says it; like just because it wasn’t by blood that it wasn’t something real. “Get to know the people who’ve been stealing you away from me all week.”

You comply with a strained smile, dread beginning to settle in when you bring it up to Rhysand a few days later. You downplay it, reiterating multiple times that it wasn’t obligatory in hopes that he and the other would be busy for now and the foreseeable future.

Of course, that’s not the case.

“Don’t be silly, we’d love to meet your new boyfriend.”

He doesn’t miss the way you cringe at the title. “Oh, that’s just—that’s just wonderful. Great.”

Your mood is no less sour three days later when you’re getting ready for said gathering, form stuffed in a little black dress you’d been saving for a special occasion and you figured now was a better time than ever. Plus, the confidence boost would help sooth the nerves that wouldn’t stop swarming beneath your skin.

“That’s a little short, Angel.”

You try not to roll your eyes at the pet name—soft and sweet and completely non-threatening. As if you hadn’t spent the entirety of your life beating your knuckles into the bones of men five times your size in a ring meant for close combat.

Still, your hands slide over the fabric, staring at your figure in the mirror when you murmur, “Not too bad though right? I thought it was really pretty.”

“Very pretty, just not for other eyes.” Damien gives you a small smile, warm palms cupping at your arms when he continues as if he’s doing you a favor. “I’ll let it slide though, just this once.”

“How generous.”

It takes everything in you not to scream when he makes a point to throw a long cardigan over his arm before you leave; trying to distract you by asking for a full run down of everyone and you’re quick to skip over the fact that maybe, once upon a time, you and Azriel were more than just friends. But the steaming, boiling anger subsides when you winnow him to the Night Court, his cheeks green as he struggled to keep his breakfast down.

Damien hated winnowing and for some reason that made you love it.

Even as you soothing rub his back, acutely aware of the eyes staring into your back from the entrance doors. Damien composes himself fairly quickly, sparing you a look when you’d promised he’d get used to it after a while. “It happens,” The High Lord of the Night Court greets, a friendly hand patting at Damien’s shoulder and you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes roll at the gesture. “Welcome, I’m Rhysand and this is my wife Feyre.”

Damien’s eyes go wide, making a move to bow to his knees but you stop him with a gentle smile. “I apologize, I’ve never really met a High Lord before.”

“He’s just Rhys right now,” You soothe, tugging him along to introduce him to the others and they can tell it’s a little overwhelming so you’re both quickly ushered to the sitting room. “The same Rhys who always splurges on the good shit—“ You cringe at the way Damien clears his throat, a brow raised at the profanity and you have to hide the burn of embarrassment for being checked in front of your friends. “Stuff. He always gets the good stuff.”

Nesta and Mor share a glance, watching you pour up a glass just for it to be swiftly snagged by your date who offers you one too but it’s significantly smaller. “Should take it slow, Angel. It’s not ladylike to get drunk when you’re being hosted.”

Your friends watch you nod with a tight smile, quietly thanking him for looking out before taking a slow sip.

Azriel scoffs in the corner, eyes rolling as he fills a glass of his own and your jaw clenched in response, an arm looping through Damien’s to show him around. You point at art you’ve seen a million times and nod every now and then when he runs off into a winded explanation of a vase he was sure was a prized possession but you were certain Rhys had gotten it from Mor as a gift three Winter Solstice’s ago.

Cassian wanders over, striking up casual conversation that you use as a chance to slip away, re-filling your glass much higher than respectable and took it back in one go with a glance over your shoulder. “Where’d you find this guy?”

“Do you actually care or are you being a prick?”

Rhysand lets out a laugh, hands tucked in his pockets as violet eyes scan the room. “Are you even allowed to say that word?”

You scoff, a hand swatting at his arm but you can’t smack away the embarrassment that appears. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you guys to meet him.” You lower your voice, fingers toying with the stitching on your dress. “We’ve only been seeing each other a few months. I didnt have enough time to—“

“To dump him before we found out about him?”

A pause, your lips purse and your fingers twitch for something stronger than whatever had been filling the decanter. “Fuck off, Rhys. Not everyone gets to have a fairytale ending like you do.”

His voice is softer, more careful and it takes effort to even hear what he’s saying. “Why don’t you just talk to him? I know you’ve seen him brooding in the corners.”

“Azriel made himself perfectly clear,” You hiss, no longer caring who saw when you reached out to grab a whole bottle of wine and all out ripped the cork free. “He can brood in the corners for the rest of our lives for all I care.”

Your form radiates agitation, positivity seething over a nearly overflowing glass before taking hefty gulps to quench the rage but it only seems to fuel it. Taking you back to that night, the cool breeze sifting through a dragging duvet while standing on the balcony with Az. You could still feel the afterglow, body radiating perfect health and contentment when he finally faces you, a grimace on strong features. “I think I have feelings for Elain.”

It hadn’t even amounted to much, grazing fingers and hushed conversations; strolls in the garden and hours hunched over a table putting together puzzles.

But Elain didn’t want more, barely grasping at the strings of her life as she knew it and more anger burns when you’re robbed of the ability to enjoy it. Enjoy him being hurt a fraction of the amount you’d been but the feeling never comes, just breathtakingly aching love—the need to hold and cradle him close and make promises you weren’t positive you’d be able to keep. “I’m sorry,” Rhys rests a hand on your shoulder but you’re quick to shift away from it.

“Forget it, can we just hurry this night along?”

He nods stiffly, lips pursed at your agitation but it doesn’t stop him from swiftly blocking you from sight when Damien begins walking over, offering enough time for you to finish your glass and ditch the bottle. “Anyone hungry?”

Nesta grins beside her mate, a knowing look in her eye when she sits down, tugging Cassian along with her and it takes a moment too long to realize that she’d directed every seat be filled—except the one before you. Teeth grind against each other when the shadowsinger sits down, chair creaking against the hardwood as he scoots in until you felt the tips of his shoes against your own. “Absolutely ravenous.”

Azriel doesn’t play nice, smirking to himself over his mashed potatoes when those familiar shadows creep under the table, licking up your ankles and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You tense, grip slipping on your fork and Damien raises a questioning brow. “You okay?”

You refrain from looking at the dark haired man across from you and force a smile. “Perfect,” You lean in for a kiss, lips millimeters away when Damien’s head turns to the side, choking on nothing but air. It passes rather quickly but your hands curl into fists under the table, swatting away the shadows curling around your knees, teasing at your thighs.

“Damien, do tell us how you two met?”

Mor doesn’t acknowledge your grateful stare but you’re certain she’d noticed it, biding you just enough time to swiftly throw Azriel a look that could kill—but it only seems to spur him on further. “I ran into her in the city, asked her out to apologize.”

“Clumsy, are you?”

Az doesn’t even acknowledge your heels stomping at his foot, smirk growing over the rim of his wine glass and you straighten in your seat. “I try not to be but when in the presence of such beauty,” Damien grazes his knuckles against the curve of your cheek, watching as you pile food on your plate. “She didn’t have such an appetite back then though—slow down it’s not going anywhere.”

A brow raises, hands freezing in their place, serving spoon hovering in midair as his words settle but you’re quick to recover. Offering a smile, you put the spoon back, returning the dish to its place.

A beat of time passes in complete silence.

“Excuse me?”

“Az, don’t.” Maybe it’s the nickname that slips—one Azriel hadn’t heard you use in months—that forces him to clamp his mouth shut but the way golden eyes go dark is unmistakable. The others are staring; more so at your date than you but ever so gracefully you take control of the situation, resting a hand lovingly on Damien’s shoulder, sparing a quick kiss there over the cotton of his shirt. “It’s fine, he’s right, I had a big lunch.”

Rhys takes over, directing small talk and grilling Damien with subtle questions. Where he was from. His parents and their lineage and you wince slightly at the way he describes the relationship between his parents. “I suppose my family is like any other. My father always raised me to be a strong male who provides and instills order within his home and my mother handles the other duties—certainly none of this fighting mess my angel seems intent on participating in.”

Nesta perks up in her seat, fork scraping against her plate. “She’s actually really good—taught me when I first got here.”

“Be that as it may,” Damien doesn’t even seem to notice the displeased looks directed at him, the shared glances and mental conversations about just how fucking awful they thought he was. But, none of them say a thing, intrigued by your lack of irritation. In fact, you looked quite pleased with yourself, sparing the spymaster quick glances after each degrading comment—like you were getting off on his growing anger. “It’s just not how I was raised. Playing with swords isn’t where she belongs.”

“And where exactly do you feel she belongs?” It’s a loaded question and judging by the low growl that laces Azriel’s words you know Damien’s answer will dictate how the rest of the night goes. If he’d be able to leave the house in one piece.

Damien shrugs as if the response is as easy as breathing, not aware in the slightest of the cobalt glow beginning to push through the thickness of Azriel’s leathers. “In the—“

“Dessert?” You sharply interject, standing abruptly and smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. “Come help me carry it out.” You don’t even look back, ears catching on the linen cloth smacking against the table before the gentle scratch of the chair. You don’t make a sound until you’re behind the kitchens double doors, fingers raking through your hair when you spin around.

Damien is not behind you.

Azriel is, and he’s entirely too close, stalking forward with a growing snarl on god-like features. All sharp cheekbones and a dark brow, even darker hair that falls over his forehead and tickles at the nape of his neck but your eyes are caught on the shape of his mouth. The ripple of his nose and the tightly strung cord of his jaw as he cages you to the counter. “Dump him.”

The smell of his cologne nearly knocks you clean off your feet and your body’s reaction to the proximity was steadily becoming the ultimate betrayal. “What?” He watches you shake yourself from the momentary stupor, a hand smacking at his chest but Azriel doesn’t so much as flinch. “Are you crazy?”

“I will go fucking batshit if you keep throwing yourself all over that sorry excuse of a male.”

It’s the promise coating each syllable that has your thighs clenching but it’s the large hand that ghosts over your silhouette that has arousal pooling in your underwear. Azriel tracks the slow swallow you take, the roll of your throat and it’s like you’re catapulted back in time. Back when it would’ve been your right to lean forward and press your mouth to his, to let those hands roam wherever they pleased as long as he was planning on reciprocating the pleasure. Your fingers clench at your sides at the very thought and there’s no hiding your scent in the air. “You don’t get to do this. You wanted her—you chose her.” Your heart slams against your chest so hard you feared an imprint would begin to form. There’s nowhere to run; nowhere to go that wasn’t completely engulfed in everything Azriel and you have to close your eyes as to not get lost in the familiar touch of his shadows on your skin. “We are over.”

“No, we aren’t.” He noses at your cheek, free hand curling at the side of your neck to make room and you swear at yourself for allowing it. For falling victim to his fucked up game and the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch; plush lips pressing the softest of kisses along your racing pulse and he fucking groans. “It isn’t over—we’ll never be over.” So low and deep, hand tightening ever so slightly at your neck in such a claiming gesture that you have to rip yourself from the delusions beginning to set root. “You will always be mine.”

“You’re insane if you really think that’s true.” Hopefully it sounds more sure than it felt coming out and it takes every ounce of strength you have to pull away, to push through the thick cloud of darkness surrounding you until the glow of the lights were visible again. Fluffy cakes and neatly iced cookies rest on elegant trays and you can’t seem to stop yourself from grabbing one and retreating as far away as possible. “Absolutely insane.” A choked yelp escapes when you bump into the wall, mouth stuffed full of sweet dough and light icing to occupy from the grating thought of dropping to your knees and letting him shove his cock as far back as your throat could allow.

“I can be,” He nods, a smile pulling on his handsome features and your gut clenches. “I’ll be nice and ask you one time to break up with him.”

“And if I don’t?”

Shadows slink up the back of your legs, over your ass—higher and higher until they wrap ever so delicately around your neck. “Then, I’ll kill him.”

[vultbae]

small world ❀

art donaldson x female reader

part two (soon)

↳ summary: Art and Patrick were once your peers at the Mark Rebellato Academy —not the nicest ones. Five years later, you've made a friend that can help you fuck with their minds a little.

↳ warnings: making out, dry humping, manipulation, a lot of pettiness, mentions of bullying, and weight!! the dumbification of art donaldson tbh

↳ notes: Istg I be having the most random ideas, but I hope you enjoy!! as always, english is not my first language lolz

word count: 3.1k

Tashi enters the living room with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, moving gracefully in a beautiful blue mini-dress. With a soft pop, she eases the cork, instantly pouring the effervescent gold-ish liquid into the two glasses. 

"You shouldn't even worry about them," Tashi says with a wry smile. As she finishes serving you some rosé Veuve Clicquot, she hands you the glass. "What are you—like, the second or third in Europe? They are gonna be broke by their thirties," she concludes, staring at you with confident eyes.

You nod, taking a sip of champagne. "Don't see it as serious; it'll be fun."

Tashi raises her glass, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Im just saying, don't stress over men."

You clink your flute against Tashi’s. "Alright."

A year and a half ago, you had met Tashi Duncan, who you believed was a hard-hearted bitch but ended up being a close friend of yours. She is merciless, proficient, and goddamn; she has that vicious aura you worship so much. While living in Biot, you'd always look for the nearest CRT to watch Tashi flawlessly play, enchanted by how she unnerved her adversaries.

During summer break, your father dragged you out of the academy to visit California for a benefaction event. Amidst the glamour and chatter of the event, you caught sight of Tashi —most likely attending due to her relevance spiking around the area. Luckily, your connection rapidly deepened, fueled by reciprocal admiration and tennis dependence.

And the commitment to stay in touch despite the geographical distance worked. Tashi became pretty much your best friend, and you became hers. Aside from the workaholic aspect, the resemblances between you were too much to ignore. Sooner than later, you discovered much about Tashi's personal life, the players she liked and despised, and her daily anecdotes regarding tennis and her intimate life. And that's how you became acquainted with Fire and Ice's peculiar hyper-fixation on Tashi.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

You thought it was a unique offering from God. You didn't expect you'd get the opportunity to face the golden pair again. When Tashi told you she had met Zweig and Donalson, a powerful sentiment of gratitude washed over you. You nearly fell to your knees when she proceeded to explain they were a walking boner for her. If that wasn't high power granting you a second chance to delight yourself, it was an insane coincidence.

But telling Tashi the backstory was a different pain in the ass. Although she expressed some sort of disgust towards Zweig and Donaldson's brainless carnal-based attitude, you couldn't buy it.  And your skepticisms were demonstrated as valid when she —dreamy voice and all that shit— confessed through the phone she nearly had a threesome with them. A fucking threesome. You couldn't hold it back anymore, so you told her everything.

Tashi was aware of tennis's influence on your household, as you were raised by two renowned tennis coaches from the States. When you turned eight, your parents turned you in at the Mark Rebellato Academy —as if you were condemned to play tennis by default. The detrimental part of your journey was developing thyroid issues when you were twelve. Jesus, twelve years old — the commencement of the preteen period where kids either kiss your feet or bully you. One year after, along with the anticipated weight gain, you met Art and Patrick. And as if you weren't unfortunate enough already, the two —who at the time looked like fucking Beavis and Butthead— decided they didn't like your physical appearance. They hated it.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” Patrick’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

You froze, your heart sinking to the underground. You tried to focus on your serve, but your hands were immobile. 

Patrick sauntered over, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Ball too heavy for you to lift?”

You heard Art’s laughter behind your back. He joined in a kind of trembling voice. “Or maybe she’s saving her strength for lunch. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to eating.”

The echo of them and the rest of the kids on the court laughing was a sound that felt like daggers piercing your heart.

After two years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation—which also distracted you from tennis—your parents sent you to The Mouratoglou Tennis Academy in Biot, a small town in France. You are not sure if it was the harassment itself, the low self-esteem, or possibly your undeniable attraction for Donaldson. It didn't matter. By the age of seventeen, you were undoubtedly one of the major promises of European tennis.

So, explaining the theatrical, soap opera-like backstory to Tashi for your detestation of Zweig and Donaldson took time. But when you did, it was worth it because Tashi didn't distrust your testimony, and if anyone was exhilarated to play some moves against them at the beginning, it was Duncan. 

That's the explanation behind Tashi pitching a tremendous party to celebrate her commitment to Stanford. This was absurd, to say the least, considering she had college offers piling up, and no one doubted she would commit to a prestigious school. But Tashi knew you'd visit from France, and this was just the perfect instance to hook you up with both condemned.

Because, of course, her biggest fangirls would attend. 

It didn't take long until the country house was full of people ranging from Tashi's cousins to bare acquaintances. And spotting Fire and Ice was easier than you thought. 

Tashi elbows you discreetly and signs with her head the direction they are standing. "There they are."

Your gaze falls over Art, who is laughing with —who you assume is—Patrick. His features are sharper and more defined. The lanky, slender physique you remembered from his premature teenage years had filled out into a more athletic build, with broader shoulders tapering to a trim waist covered in a light pink shirt. His blonde hair, which was no longer too light, was now strawberry blonde-ish, slightly tousled, and cascading over his ears.

Patrick, standing a few feet away, was equally transformed. His brunette hair, just a bit longer than you remember, frames a face that had hardened over the years—angular jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem to miss nothing. The fucking smirk is still there, and you can see how he displays it every two seconds at whatever thing Art is telling him.

The interior of your stomach resembles a volcano about to erupt. You feel ambivalent, so many emotions overlapping each other. You see two cute, hell, gorgeous guys, and you wish you could approach them without considering crucifying them before. And you can't help but feel envious at how effortlessly Tashi managed to tame Art and Patrick while the only thing you got from them was hostility.

Your eyes can't seem to unbuckle from them. Tashi catches you slightly frowning at the panorama, and she isn't certain if you are infatuated or planning murder on the spot. "Come on."

You have no time to react before Tashi leads you through some partygoers to reach where Zweig and Donaldson are. Like dogs sniffling fresh meat, it's pathetic how their heads twist simultaneously when Tashi approaches them, conversation instantly pausing. It is as if Tashi's presence was magnetic for them.

"Well, hello, both of you," Tashi greets them excitedly, still holding your hand. "Didn't think you'd come."

Art's eyes widen, "Are you kidding?" he's about to keep speaking, but his gaze merges with yours for a split second, and he shuts off. Dead. Silent. 

"—Stanford's a big deal, Tashi." Patrick interrupts, compensating for the awkwardness of Art's sudden number. "I had to drag this lazy fuck out of his bed, but we made it."

Suddenly, Art's out of the trance, tearing his blue eyes off you to bombard Patrick with a killer look. "Hey—shut up, Patrick."

Tashi sweetly, softly giggles at their word exchange. God, she's good, you think. Tashi turns to gesture to you, "This is my friend, Claire, by the way. She is visiting from the Mouratoglou Academy—

To be fair, Claire is a believable name.

"Wait, the Patrick Mouratoglou Academy? In France?" Art runs over Tashis's sentence, incredulously shooting you a broad-eyed glare. You nod in agreement, still processing you are having a civil conversation with Art Donaldson.

You feel Tashi squeezing your hand at your quietness.

"Yeah, you know it?" you timidly ask, forcing a polite smile that, if you were Art, you wouldn't buy it. But, of course, he's as dumb as a pigeon.

"Heck... Of course, I do. I wish I could go there."

Tashi smirks, enjoying the spectacle. 

Patrick’s investment in the conversation piques. "Mouratoglou, huh? That's impressive. Maybe we could hit the court sometime."

And that's the first time Patrick makes eye contact with you. He's stabbing you with his stare. You abruptly wonder if he's as dumb as Art, probably not. 

You squeeze Tashi's hand.

Tashi leans closer to Patrick, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Hey, Pat... do you remember what you mentioned about erectile dysfunction? My aunt's a sexologist, I think—

Patrick loudly chuckles, apparently alarmed by the deficiency of filtering confidential information. "I need to smoke sum' stronger. Wanna come, Tash?"

Tashi purses her lips, casting a quick glance at you. "Sure."

Your point of view is like a sitcom scene, swiftly panning from Tashi's body leaving your radar to the boy in front of you, staring at you with soothing eyes and reddened cheeks. It's basically comical.

Art's eyes dart around the lively yard before landing back on you. He clears his throat. "So, uh, Claire? That's a cute name."

It takes tons of willpower not to drop the good girl act right there. You attempt to return the sentiment with a quirk on the corner of your lips. "I need to get a drink. Come with me?"

He shakes his head up and down, finding it easier than answering with words.

For the first time in a couple of months, the inside of Art's mind has more than a giant cardboard cutout of Tashi Duncan. He is in awe. 

You lead the way, weaving through clusters of drunk teenagers towards the house. You feel Art's gaze lingering on your back —or ass, you don't know—a magnetic pull that makes you hyper-aware of his presence.

You arrive in the kitchen and quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and a party cup. Art watches you closely with a look of hypnotic admiration as if you were concocting the most complicated cocktail in the world. You want to roll your eyes so badly.

"That dress looks amazing on you." Art blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts any longer. 

You look at him. Art is sitting on one of the high stools by the kitchen island, his elbow resting on the table's sleek surface, supporting his chin with his hand. There is a softness in his eyes completely foreign to you, an infrequent vulnerability that contrasts sharply with the characteristic asshole demeanor you remember.

To Art, you appear almost ethereal, like an ideal concept from a wet dream of his. His thoughts are a kaleidoscope of jumbled fragments of memory that make no sense. You look so familiar... but no. 

There's no way he would forget about you.

You glance up, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply, handing him a drink.

Art sips on his red plastic cup, eyes hooked on yours. "So, uhm. I just realized I never introduced myself properly. Im Art—

"Yeah, Donaldson, I know." you cut him off, leaving him completely silent and confused. "I've seen you play. Not bad," you clarify, with an unconscious hint of pride in your voice.

Art's smile widens. "Wait, you've seen me play?" he exaggeratedly emphasizes me. 

You nod.

His eyes twinkle with excitement. There’s this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's, uh, great. Next time you are watching, I'll play better..."

His innate nerdiness and try-hard flirtiness provoke nausea in you. If you didn't know him, it would be a different story. But seeing a former, intense crush who shamelessly bullied you for so long, giving you heart-shaped eyes...

It's fucking bizarre. And it pisses you off.

Art begins conversing about something else. You don't know what—tennis-related, maybe. You are not wearing earphones with noise cancellation, but you can't hear him anymore. It's a blur as his words course through one ear and depart through the other. Immediately. Your brain has simply blocked the action of listening to him.

You step closer, so close you can see the fine lines in his eyes, the flecks of green amidst the blue, with a hint of brown sectoral heterochromia on his right eye. You can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne, something spicy that makes you salivate. His lips keep moving, forming words that dissolve into the dim background noise. The music, the laughter, the chatter—they all blend into a distant hum.

Art's voice vanishes into oblivion as you fix your gaze on his mouth, the curve of his lips, the way they part and close as he speaks. "Art," you say, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, puzzlement, and a spark of hope. His adam's apple throbs as he notices you staring at his lips.

You lean in, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble that prickles against your touch. Art's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, too.

Your lips crash against his. Although you don't want to make it weird, you fail. It's not a gentle kiss or a precious, out-of-a-book lips meeting. It's fierce, instructing, a clash of sour sentiments and intent. You pour all your frustration, your pent-up anger, and your fucked-up desire to overpower him into that kiss. 

Art's shock melts away and quickly replaces it with an appetite that matches yours. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepens, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore, to taste the unmistakable flavor of cigarette and cheap vodka. You can feel the warmth of his breath and the way his hands tighten on your waist. It's almost as if he's frightened you'll pull away at some point.

And you can only fantasize about the moment you walk away.

—but not yet. You push harder, your fingers tugging slightly in his messy strawberry-blonde hair. He lowly moans into your mouth, a sound that dispatches a shiver down your spine. His hands roam your back, tracing the curve of your spine and dangerously lowering to your ass level. There's a distress in his touch you never thought would come from him.

The way he's dissolving under your venomous touch is already a win for you. You've managed to put him under you. And it's intoxicating, this control you have over him, this ability to make him forget everything else.

You pull back, your lips hovering just above his. Art's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and ridiculously red from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you in pure infatuation, "What- I... Did I do something wrong?"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him again. "Come with me."

You peek at the party going outside—most people are outside. The living room is nearly empty, with a few alcoholized individuals entering the country house to refill their drinks. It's perfect.

You take Art's hand, your fingers lacing through his, and you lead him toward the sectional, six-seat couch in the center of the living room. You push Art down onto the couch, and he complies without resistance, his lust-drunken eyes never leaving yours; he nearly chokes on his spit at the sight of you slowly straddling him, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his hips.

"Jesus, Claire—"

You get the ick at the roleplay name Tashi baptized you with. 

"Shh," you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss. "You never shut up, Donaldson."

And that's odd for him. He gives it a second thought because he isn't aware of how much he has talked, but definitely not that much. 

The overthinking vanishes as soon as you begin to kiss him again, slowly at first, savoring the way his lips deliciously move against yours. Art's hands rest tentatively on your hips, his fingers twitching as if afraid to hold on too tight. You guide his hands around your waist, urging him to hold you closer. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat of his palms through the delicate fabric of your black mini-dress.

A sigh rolls out from your throat when you perceive something hard putting pressure against your core —which, because of the dress, is only shielded by thin lace panties. The coarse fabric of Art's light denim jeans rubs splendidly against your pussy. 

A primitive groan slips out of Art's lips the moment you grind your hips against his clothed dick. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, and his eyes wander downwards. "Shit— you'll kill me," he pants into your mouth.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. They're dark with craving, his pupils dilated. "Then let me."

You are about to attack his lips again, but he hesitates. You tilt your head in confusion, murmuring a low what?

Art starts to speak, his voice shaky and breathless. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my hotel with me."

Before you can respond, Tashi suddenly appears in your vision behind Art's head. "Claire, there you are," she says, fucking loud with a knowing, manipulative smile on her lips. "Your dad called, he's outside."

You feel a surge of delicious triumph as you see the apparent dissatisfaction in Art's eyes. 

"Sorry, Art," you say, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Maybe another time."

There’s a raw sadness in his eyes, an almost childlike hurt that he can’t quite conceal. He isn't even drunk; he's fully conscious of the stunning girl he just met and now is evaporating as if she was going to turn into a wolf at midnight or something. 

As you are about to disappear from Art's vision, he shouts at you, "I'll see you later, right?"

But you don't answer.

Instead, you hurriedly walk with Tashi to reach the front yard. 

"I didn't lie about your dad being here, though," Tashi clarifies, pointing at the big Jeep parked in front of the country house.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, alright." You glance back at the house to ensure you are out of earshot. "I think fucking him would've been better. Do you think he's gonna remember about this tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. This is definitely gonna fuck his head up for a while." Tashi chuckles, "he's pretty obsessive."

You feel a swell of fulfillment at your best friend's words. "How obsessive?"

Tashi smiles. "A lot."

❀

[sserpente]

S T R A Y

Synopsis: The streets are not safe at night, not in the N109 zone, and even less so for a woman. When you realise you are being followed one night, panic surges through you, your heart pounding in your chest. You have to come up with a plan, fast. Hardly anyone still mingles at this time of day, yet there is a club nearby whose lights are still lit. A group of men are chattering just outside. One of them, you recognise. It is Sylus, the leader of Onychinus himself. Discarding all rational thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, hoping that he will play along and help you. It’s an encounter you’re certain you will never forget. So when you meet again a few weeks later during a fateful business meeting and your own father offers you up to him as payment to settle a dispute, only one question remains—did you get unlucky…or lucky?

Words: 5434 Warnings: bad parenting, being followed

Life in the N109 zone was…different. More than the booming trade of vitamin D pills and weaponry, there was a certain beauty to it. One that I had come to appreciate. The glooming lights, the abrasive darkness, and that mysterious aura were a balm to the soul that most people failed to appreciate.

It was life. Life was rough. This dream of Linkon City, an escape most people here longed for, was as unreachable as the sunlight.

As for me, my father made sure of that. I was all he had—and he wouldn’t let me leave to find joy elsewhere. Not unless he could draw an advantage from it himself.

I sighed, clutching the pile of neatly stacked documents tighter to my body. Confidential documents, retrieved illegally, of course, that were too precious to entrust anyone else with. It was already past midnight and the cold had crept in without mercy, crawling further and further into the heart of the N109 zone and freezing up its streets and alleys.

I breathed out through my mouth only to watch it mix with the crisp winter air. I wasn’t dressed warmly enough but there had been no time to put on several layers of clothing before my father sent me out with urgency in his voice.

He was mad. I could consider myself lucky if I made it home safely—without any vicious Wanderer attacks or thugs who wanted my father’s head as much as they wanted the pile of documents I realised now would be better off in my bag.

Perhaps it was a coincidence that I did. Or perhaps it was some sort of divine intervention because the very moment I closed the zip, I spotted a man wearing a black beanie from the corner of my eye. It was too dark to make out his face, only that he had stopped walking…and stepped forward again as soon as I did.

Shit. Don’t panic. It could just be a coincidence. Just change the side of the road and it’ll be fine. I drew in another deep breath, bracing myself. I took a sharp turn right, crossing the street over cracked asphalt and a discarded car tire only to watch the stranger do the same.

Perhaps now it was time to panic. There was no doubt about it. My gun was in my bag. Would I be fast enough to pull it out, cock it and aim before he realised what I was doing? Possibly not. He was getting closer already. I had to act fast.

The main road was the only one fairly lit in the N109 zone. I had to disappear out of sight if I wanted to gain an advantage and in order to do that, I had to merge with the shadows. I took another sharp turn, slipping into a side alley.

Old cardboard boxes and bins lined the narrow pathway, and the pavement was still glistening with the tears the sky had cried throughout the day in the artificial light of a shady poker club that was still open.

An opportunity, perhaps? I quickened my steps, heading straight towards it. Voices accompanied the weak source of light—cheerful chatter by men and women alike. Normally, I’d stay miles away from these places. But right now, it may be my only lifeline.

Another inconspicuous glance back proved the stranger was indeed still following me.

Ten more steps. Ten more steps and I could…could do what? I bit my lower lip. I hadn’t thought this through at all. People who visited these clubs were hardly of the trustworthy sort. If anything, there was a chance they were even deadlier than the man behind me.

Still, I had no choice, perhaps I would…

My heart skipped a beat when my eyes fell on one of the men facing the open door of the building. His hands were buried in his pockets as if he didn’t have a care in the world, a nonchalance unusual to the N109 zone. But it was his appearance that made my breath hitch.

White hair, red eyes…this…this was Sylus. I’d only seen him once before. As a real estate agent on the dodgier and more exploiting side, my father liked picking fights over property he believed he was entitled to—it got him on Onychinus’s bad side quickly, and onto their long list of enemies they were happy to strangle on sight.

My instincts should be telling me to run. I could only imagine the pure horrors they’d inflict on me if they knew I was his daughter. But I was also running short on options. Sylus was the most powerful man in the N109 zone. And as of right now, he was the only one I would trust to be capable of helping me out of my predicament.

He heard me approach before he turned his head to face me. One of his perfectly shaped eyebrows rose slightly when my eyes locked with his, yet before he could utter even a single word, I threw myself into his arms as if he was my boyfriend and I hadn’t seen him all week. He placed his hands on my waist presumably by reflex, a barely audible gasp escaping his lips in the process.

“A little stray kitten is seeking the protection of a lion. How…adorable,” he purred. Mockery swung in his dark voice. It sent pleasant shivers up and down my spine, reminding me of how dangerous this man was, and yet…I felt safe in his arms. Protected. With a shaky breath, I nuzzled up to his neck even closer.

“Please…I’m being followed. Help me. C-can you pretend we know each other?”

Sylus stiffened in my arms. For a brief moment, I worried he’d push me away and tell me to deal with this myself but instead…instead he tightened his grip around me with a start. I let out a sigh of relief before I could stop myself.

“Who? The guy right behind you?” he asked, his tone low and stern.

“Yes,” I whispered into his ear. “He’s wearing a black beanie.”

Sylus hummed, looking up when the strange man reached us at last. “Can I help you?” he growled.

I swallowed thickly, pressing my face against Sylus’s chest. Heavens, he smelled…good. His masculine scent calmed my nerves in an instant, my trembling ceasing a little.

“N-no…” I heard the man stutter behind me.

“Then what do you want from my girlfriend? You don’t strike me as the poker type,” Sylus continued, his voice carrying just a hint of a threat. My girlfriend… Why did I like the sound of that so much? I suppressed a scoff. I’d been reading too many mafia romance novels, that was for sure.

“Your girlfriend, huh? I’m just taking a walk. Enjoying the fresh air, taking in the night breeze.”

Clearly, he was not convinced. Yet it appeared he did not realise who Sylus was either—and that as of right now, he was playing not only with fire but death itself.

“Then keep on walking and don’t look back,” Sylus said. He leaned back a little, hooking his index finger under my chin to force me to look at him. His crimson gaze went soft, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Did you have a good day at work, kitten?”

I nodded, too stunned to speak. Studying him up close, he…he was attractive. Very attractive. Shit, what was wrong with me? This wasn’t just anyone, this was…this was the leader of Onychinus himself! Sylus is dangerous, I scolded myself. Your father’s arch enemy, your...oh please, don’t develop a crush on him!

“How can I be sure you really know the lady, huh? You could be blackmailing her, making her work for you, or some shit like that. She might need my help.”

Sylus growled. I was unprepared for the jolt of electricity rippling through me when he did. But what had me at his mercy was his following action. Without showing any signs of hesitation, Sylus leaned down and pressed his lips against mine, claiming my mouth in a kiss full of longing and the promise of more.

I froze. Panicked and melting into him both at the same time. By the time he released me, his hot breath ghosting over my face, the stranger scoffed and then, finally, took off.

Butterflies exploded in my belly, my heart fluttering in my chest to the point I was worried he could hear it.

I should thank Sylus. Show him my appreciation, shower him with grateful words, and yet…my throat remained paralysed as if his kiss had awakened something in me my body was yet to come to terms with.

“You are reckless wandering around the N109 zone unarmed at this time of night, kitten,” he said once the man was out of sight.

Damn it. I shook myself. Pull yourself together!

“I’m not unarmed. I have a gun in my bag, I just…I panicked. He would have reached me by the time I got my weapon out.”

“Then carry it on your hip next time. How far are you from home?”

“About a mile. That way.” I pointed down the alley—the exact same direction the stranger had disappeared into.

I only realised now that Sylus was still holding me. I cleared my throat, peeling myself out of his embrace.

And whoever he had been conversing with, they were all gawking and had been following the spectacle as if I was the main character of a reality TV show. Oh, how lovely.

“Luke, Kieran!”

“Yes, boss?” Two young men dressed entirely in black, their faces hidden by eerie masks stepped into view, answering Sylus in unison. I blinked. Where had they come from?

“Take my car and bring this lady home safe.” His tone allowed no contradiction—not from me and certainly not from the twins. Not that they were not inclined to read every wish from his lips anyway.

“Sure thing, boss,” one of them said.

“Follow us!” the other one added.

Expecting me to do as I was told, they disappeared around the corner, the way I came from, before I could protest.

I took a step back. “Uh… Sylus?”

His crimson eyes locked with mine. A mute invitation to continue speaking.

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “Good night, kitten.”

I did not look back when I took off. I couldn’t. I could still taste him on my lips along with the lingering aroma of expensive whiskey…

“In you go, miss!”

“Yeah, just tell us where you live and we’ll get you home in no time!”

Unable to tell who was who, I merely recited my address to them before I climbed into the back of the car hoping that this wasn’t a trick and they would indeed take me home.

Studying the interior as well as the exterior and taking into consideration that I didn’t know a lot about cars; even I knew that this one was expensive. Very expensive, surpassing the wealth of my father by far.

As soon as the engine was started and the twins stirred the vehicle further and further away from the poker club, my mind drifted off to Sylus and the way those stunning red eyes had softened with compassion upon learning of my precarious situation. A man with such a look in his gaze couldn’t possibly be a villain…right?

“Wait…this is where you live? This is the real estate agent’s mansion.”

“Are you his daughter?”

They both leaned back, staring at me through their expressionless masks. I swallowed thickly. Shit. I should have given them a different address. One that was right around the corner or something. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“I…I…”

“Explains why you’re sneaking around at night. That real estate agent is shady.”

“I was just trying to get home. I’m not up to anything. And I certainly don’t want any trouble.” Plus, I wouldn’t have thrown myself into the arms of my father’s greatest enemy, your boss, if I did.

“Ah, don’t worry, we won’t tell Boss about your dad.”

“Yet.”

The car doors unlocked, prompting me to breathe out audibly. “T-Thank you.”

“Good night!” they called out in unison when I got out of the car as quickly as I could muster. I’d barely closed the door again before they drove off already, leaving me behind confused and speechless. Yet? What was that supposed to mean?

It was a few weeks after this incident that my father announced I was to attend a highly important business meeting with him. So far, Onychinus had been silent. No surprise attacks, no kidnappings. I should have felt at ease that Sylus had acted like a true gentleman that night, ensuring I got home safe without expecting anything in return.

Luke and Kieran must have kept their mouth shut about my identity. And if they hadn’t, and Sylus already knew who I was and where I lived…

It should have been concern or even fear pumping through my veins. Instead, my thoughts kept circling back to the very moment the infamous leader of Onychinus had kissed me as if we were in love.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” My father stepped behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

I took a deep breath and straightened my suit. “Ready, Dad. So…who are we meeting tonight? And where?”

“Place is a shady poker club about a mile from here. We won’t stay there any longer than necessary.”

Shady poker club? I swallowed thickly. He couldn’t possibly mean…

“Dad, who are we meeting up with?”

“The less you know, the better, sweetheart. Now let’s go. We’re gonna be late. He doesn’t like it when you’re late.”

He. Who was he?

My father ushered me outside and into his car before I could pry any further. We soared through the streets ignoring speed limits and the occasional obstacle. He was nervous. The way his fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white had me shift back and forth on the passenger seat all restless and uneasy myself.

He hadn’t even told me why he wanted me there in the first place. Not knowing what to expect at all threatened to have me decorate the dashboard with my dinner.

But perhaps that was a lie. Part of me did know, precisely, what to expect. I realised that the very moment the car came to a stop.

Sylus’s crimson eyes locked with mine when I entered the poker club a few steps behind my father and his men, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. If Luke and Kieran had indeed revealed my identity to him, he did not show it. His demeanour was calm. Collected.

“Mr. Sylus… Thank you for your time,” my father said.

“Don’t thank me before you have made it worth my while.” He paused and my heart skipped a beat when he stepped towards me and raised my hand to his face, pressing a tender kiss to my knuckles. “We meet again, kitten.”

It lingered on my skin even after he let go, like the gentle wings of a butterfly caressing the back of my hand. I was on fire, my face and ears so warm I could practically feel the blood pumping through them. Airplanes took off in my body, making me nauseous for different reasons entirely now. Damn it.

“Good evening, Sylus,” I pressed out at last.

My father’s eyes widened. “You know each other?”

Sylus looked at me expectantly.

“Uh… Sylus helped me out of an iffy situation the night you sent me to retrieve those documents for you. He ensured I returned home safely,” I said.

It was a challenge to hide the trembling in my voice. I’d had good reason not to tell my father about my encounter with Sylus. I suppressed a gasp when he grabbed my upper arm.

“Are you kidding me, child? You’re telling me you put yourself in the leader of Onychinus’s debt?” he hissed.

And this was exactly why.

I spotted the twins, standing guard on either side of Sylus’s chair, their masks void of any emotion as usual. Sylus himself had sat down already in the meantime, an untouched glass of whiskey on the stained poker table in front of him. The place was deserted. Neither customers nor staff filled the place with life, leading me to believe that Sylus had made sure there wouldn’t be any unwanted eyes and ears present.

“I don’t have all day,” he called over. He almost sounded…bored.

“Mr. Sylus… Of course. Excuse me. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

My father’s men scattered across the room, taking position in every corner with one hand on the handle of their guns. I swallowed, relieved when my father finally let go of me and sat down opposite Sylus. I took a seat next to him, unsure of what he expected me to do next.

Already I was hardly looking forward to the ride back home. My father would give me hell for getting involved with Onychinus on my own terms. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

“So…Mr. Sylus. I heard you are currently investigating Mr. Edward Geoffrey’s efforts to create Evol serums?”

I frowned. Of course, Onychinus would be interested in Geoffrey’s Evol serums too. My father had always had an eye for opportunity. He surpassed himself, however, with this. Willingly setting up a meeting with the enemy was not only reckless, it was suicide.

“You heard correctly.” Sylus took out a coin from his pocket and began flicking it between his fingers.

I bit my lower lip, fighting for composure. The tension in the room was palpable. One wrong word and it would blow, causing a deadly explosion.

“I may be able to help.”

Sylus huffed a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Mr. Geoffrey is an old acquaintance of mine, you see.”

“And why would that information be relevant to me?” he replied, clearly unimpressed.

Hypnotised, I watched him play with the coin.

“Because I sold a property to him. I have access to the floor plans…and skilled men who know how to bypass the security system I set up for him.”

My father pulled out a small package and slid it across the table. Sylus looked up. Now he was interested.

“You stole a sample of one of his serums? Why?”

“Consider it a peace offering.”

“You are a fool if you think all will be forgiven because of this.” Sylus nodded at the package with his chin, then gestured for Luke and Kieran to take it. One of them snatched it off the table before my father could change his mind.

“Mr. Sylus… Let me be frank with you. I made myself very vulnerable by meeting up with you and I have no ill intentions, not tonight. I did this in good faith. My investors are not happy with me. My involvement with Onychinus has made them…wary of future collaborations.”

Sylus huffed another laugh. “That merely sounds like you are facing the consequences of your own actions. Were you expecting pity? Compassion?”

Compassion. He’d shown me compassion that night. But I was not my father. I was not here to strike a business deal. I was, apparently, here to look pretty and keep my mouth shut. It was in moments like this I resented the crudeness of my own flesh and blood.

My father shot me a brief look. He was desperate, I could see it glistening in his eyes. “Alright. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this but…how about we raise the stakes then?”

The stakes?

“An addition to your workforce, perhaps?” he went on. “My daughter is an excellent assistant to me. I’ve tasked her with many important missions in the past. She is reliable, resilient, and obedient.”

My heart skipped a beat, my stomach churning. Nausea crept its way up my throat, my limbs tensing. My own father…meant to sell me to Sylus? To Onychinus?

The shock and hurt must have been visible on my face. It was ironic, really, that my ability to keep a poker face was remarkably pathetic given the very place of this meeting.

Sylus’s crimson eyes flickered over to me before they focused on my father again. My own gaze followed him. There was no way he would agree to this. Sylus had shown himself to be nothing but a gentleman the last time we met. He’d respect my autonomy, he’d—

“Hmm. That does sound like a fair enough deal. I accept.”

What? My head whipped back in his direction, my eyes widening in pure horror. He…he couldn’t be serious now, could he? He wouldn’t let my father sell me to him like cattle…right? Right?

The man who was supposed to love and protect me turned to me. His hand felt heavy and sweaty when he put it on mine. “Go with him, sweetheart. Make me proud.”

“You’ve planned this all along.”

He nodded.

“How could you?” I choked out.

“Sweetheart…this is the N109 zone. It’s to kill or be killed. And you working for Onychinus? It will lift my reputation and respect tenfold. It won’t be too different from working for me, hmm?”

I should be surprised. Hurt. Heartbroken. And perhaps I was all of these things but instead, all I was able to feel was an uncomfortable numbness revealing to me what I had known for years without wanting to realise. My father had never truly loved me. I was a tool. A means to an end. Another mouth to feed that he was now finally rid of.

Sylus rose from his chair, flinging the coin in the air before catching it and letting it disappear in his pocket again.

“Come on, kitten. It’s getting late. Consider your name off my list. For now,” he added, addressing my father.

The twins approached me when I made no move to follow Sylus back outside and to his car. Their touch on my shoulders was surprisingly gentle. I wanted to cry. Wanted to ruin the makeup I had applied so meticulously only an hour before in order to please my father. Not a single tear was willing to escape my eyes though, not even when Sylus opened the door to the passenger seat for me and the all too familiar scent of his expensive car filled my nostrils. Moments later, we rushed through the streets as if we owned the place. In a way we did. Well, Sylus did.

I refused to take in the beauty and vastness of his home when we arrived. It reminded me of a gothic novel, one with mysterious counts and vampires luring in young women to keep them as playthings and living blood bags. Expensive art and antique furniture filled the place, our steps echoing all the way up to the high ceiling. I followed Sylus and the twins into what I assumed was both a lounge and a dining room.

Luke and Kieran placed the mysterious serum my father had retrieved on the table, removed the stopper, and gave it a little sniff before popping it back on.

“Now what?” I spat.

“Is it a fake, what do you think?” Sylus asked nonchalantly, ignoring my question entirely.

He… I gnashed my teeth. Why was he acting like I wasn’t even in the room?

“Looks genuine, Boss. We should have it checked though, just to be sure.”

Sylus nodded. “Leave it here for now. I’ll deal with it later.”

Three…two…one. I waited until Luke and Kieran had left the room before I all but threw myself at Sylus. This time, however, it was not to seek comfort and aid. This time, I was out for blood.

“You bastard!” I lashed out at him. “Why did you agree to this? Accepting me as a prize like I’m some sort of slave! I thought…I thought you were…”

Sylus’s reflexes were downright terrifying. He snatched my wrist before my palm got even close to his cheek, his red eyes darkening.

I gasped for air when he pushed me against the nearest wall and my back hit the golden frame of a painting, his large body pressed up against me and nullifying any chance at escape. Heavens, he was strong. I was well trained in martial arts, my father had insisted I learned to defend myself since my early childhood, but Sylus? Sylus could crush me. He wouldn’t even need to use his Evol for it.

“I agreed to your father’s proposal for your sake, kitten,” he growled. “Not for mine.”

“My sake? My sake? Am I supposed to believe that?”

“What kind of father bargains his own daughter away, kitten? You’re better off without him.” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment as if my behaviour was sawing on his nerves. “I have half a mind to send you back. You are acting obnoxiously ungrateful.” I…I couldn’t even tell if he was joking or not.

“How dare you?” I spat.

“Am I wrong? Your father doesn’t strike me as the type you say no to. What was your life like, I wonder? Running errands for him? Constantly putting yourself in danger like that first night we met, disregarding your own dreams, your own needs, all in order to earn the love of a man who was never willing to grant it to you in the first place?”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” I struggled against his steel grip, hot and salty tears now finally threatening to spill and stain my flushed cheeks. Sylus was right. He was right about everything and hearing him speak it all out loud was so painful my knees gave up on me. It all came crashing down on me like a landmine. My father’s betrayal, my services being sold like a pint of milk in the supermarket, Sylus…Sylus.

My attempt to shove him away caught him off guard long enough for me to slide to the floor the very moment he reached for the next best thing to steady himself—it was the dining table, the small bottle containing the mysterious Evol serum an inch too close to the edge.

Sylus cursed when it tipped over. The twins must not have stuffed the stopper back in properly, for when it did, its liquid contents spilled all over the smooth surface of his mahogany table and his long fingers. It sizzled when it made contact with his skin, throwing bubbles and emitting smoke before eventually drying into his pores in the blinking of an eye.

“What happened? What did it do? Are you hurt?” I didn’t want to show concern for this man. I ought to hate him, despise him, loathe him… I blinked my tears away. I just…I couldn’t. There was anger, yes. But…there was something else too. It was that feeling again. That very same feeling that had already filled me from head to toe the very night I had wrapped my arms around him begging for his help. It was security. Security and…protection. Like I could put my life in his hands and he would cherish it.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. Sylus shook his hand out as if that would help remove whatever substance had crawled under his skin, salvaged what was left of the serum, and then, finally, sank to the floor so we were eye to eye again, propping one knee up and resting his underarm on it. His dark red gaze met mine. He appeared to be…fine. Perhaps my father had lied and the serum was a fake after all.

“I suggest…a ceasefire for now.”

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, wiping my eyes. My palms came back bearing black streaks from my makeup but I couldn’t care less. Nevertheless…I nodded.

“If you don’t want me as your assistant…does that mean…I’m free to go?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“You are not a prisoner here. Although, I would prefer to keep you around for a while longer. Your father will notice if you go straying again too soon, kitten.”

It took me a sharp inhale to process his words. Safe, a treacherous voice in my head whispered. You are safe with him.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” I wish you’d never stop calling me that. My heart skipped a beat whenever he did.

Sylus chuckled. “Don’t act like you hate it. You are…” He did not finish his sentence. My jaw dropped to the floor when he was suddenly stopped by a pair of fluffy brown cat ears springing from his white hair. They were quickly followed by a long tail of the same fur colour. Sylus tensed and gasped audibly.

“W-what is happening?” I choked out.

With one hand, he reached up to feel his ears, flinching when he realised that they were part of his body and…assumingly sensitive.

“So that’s what the serum does…” Sylus mumbled.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my palm to stifle a hysteric laugh.

“Who’s the kitten now, Sylus?”

Shit, this… This was all so…so absurd! All of it! This whole evening, me being here, Sylus turning into an Evol cat…could anything else go horribly wrong at this point?

My emotions turned into a bubbling cauldron full of uncertainty. It was overwhelming, to say the least. And I was getting tired of trying to figure out which feeling I wanted to give in to. Wiping the wet tears from my cheeks one last time, I sniffled and sat up, determined to not let fate get the better of me. I’d get through this. Somehow.

“I’m glad you’re amused.”

“You…you have no idea how much I needed this. You…you’re going to be okay though, right?”

“Of course I will. I just need to find out how to reverse the effects.”

“Why were you interested in this serum anyway? My father’s motivations I can understand, he’s in it for the money but you are…you are filthy rich already.” And the more I’m speaking to you, the more I’m realising you’re not the brutal and cold criminal I thought you were.

“There may be links to the usage of an Aether Core. That is all you need to know, kitten.”

I raised an eyebrow, half a smirk battling the sternness on my face. Truly, I couldn’t care less about Protocores. “I think you lost the right to call me that when you grew a pair of cat ears and a wagging tail, Sylus,” I said instead.

I paused, biting my lower lip. I made my decision there and then. I was safe. For now. And…I trusted him. I trusted Sylus enough to keep me alive and well and that had to suffice for now. I could deal with those strange butterflies awakening in my belly whenever he was near me tomorrow.

“I…I want to stay. And help you fix…whatever this is.” I reached up, scratching his left ear. My eyes widened when a little moan escaped his lips.

“That…is sensitive.”

Oh. Did…did he just growl?!

“You are welcome to stay, kitten. Nothing will happen to you here. Besides…I could use another assistant once I’ve sent Luke and Kieran off to find an antidote for…this.”

He whipped his tail in my direction where it wrapped around my waist. I cleared my throat. I was starting to feel a little cheeky now that I was certain that Sylus would keep his promise. Banter helped. Banter kept me distracted.

“I could be of great assistance indeed. I’ll clean your litter box every day, buy you fresh milk, brush your tail…and I’m more than happy to take you to the vet to get you checked for fleas.”

His gaze darkened. Evidently, my joke was not lost on him. Nor was the playfulness.

“You’re dancing on very thin ice, sweetie.” Sweetie? Now that was a new nickname. I decided I liked it just as much.

“I like to live on the edge. I… I hope you’ll compensate me adequately for my services though.”

Sylus crawled forward and pressed me closer against the wall with a start, almost as if his newly won feral instincts had taken over, ushering him into showing his affection by rubbing against me. I suppressed a moan. Being so close to him had my mind wander off into dangerous territory I was certain there was no coming back from. And to make matters even worse… Sylus’s crimson gaze now dropped to my slightly parted lips.

“Generously…” he whispered.

I’d gotten unlucky before. All my life, to be precise. Maybe today, the tables had finally turned.

[writingmeraki]

men on a mission.

a kim mingyu drabble !

pairing : secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship ( they are married lmao )

genre : fluff. few rotten tooth worthy fluff.

warnings : kissing and mentions of alcohol/drunkness.

author's note : well. i was inspired by a sort of dream i had abt mingyu and this sprouted out of it lmao. i rlly do hope it makes sense <3 i kinda wanna make this a fic someday but i have too much shit on my hands rn so take this instead :D also unkept, unsaid,ugly emotions other units will be coming soon and maybe something for enha too cause it's been a HOTTT minute ☝️!!

sp. dt to my svt luvr moots 🩷!! @blue-jisungs ; @shuamorollss ; @odxrilove ; @flwoie ; @strxwberry-skiess ; @bambikisss ; @enluv !!!! ( this is my small attempt at showing y'all i am alive and do think of you guys everytime i open this app :( love u all even those who aren't mentioned ! )

word count : 0.9k

small drabble in the same universe ( continuation if you wish ) !!

Mission be darned, you may just get exempted due to murdering your assigned partner.

“Mingyu! Can you please stop drinking!?” 

You were sure your forehead might have become red from the amount of times you've been rubbing it and you can feel the grey hair seeping through.

Glaring at said man as he downed probably the fifth shot of some combo of liquor, you turned your attention to the bartender.

His eyes widened as he gulped in slight fear from the anger radiating in your gaze.

“I told you to stop. No more drinks for him.” 

You said calmly as he quickly nodded his head and went in a rush to clean the already cleaned up counter for the second time, finding it better to be anywhere but near a furious person.

He knew what he was paid was not worth getting into an argument about how customer service is the top thing and all that. 

“Loosen up! Have some fun babyyy!” His words slurred towards the end and you had to stop yourself from grinning at his words. You rolled your eyes at his words before hissing out lowly towards him,

“We are not supposed to have fun, if you remember, we’re here to collect some information!” You were whisper yelling at this point but you doubt anyone would hear you anyways from the loud music playing in the club which was already giving you a headache. 

“ ‘s fine~”

“I’ll get it out some other time, just relax yeah? It’s been a while since we went out.” 

Sighing at his words, you avoided looking at his face. You knew damn well he had that specific look. The look when he really wanted something from you which you weren’t agreeing on. You think it’s his eyes that get to you every damn time. 

Suddenly, he moved from his position and clinged to your arm, almost making you fall off the bar stool as he scooted closer with his, making a screeching sound that would have made you cringe if it weren’t for the fact you were trying not to fall over from the sudden weight added.

“Mingyu!” You yelped as you moved your right arm around him, trying to hold him as support,which was another mission in itself considering how broad his shoulders were. 

His face plopped itself on your shoulder, cheek smothered on it as he spoke, “You’re so warm, always are warm.”

You suppose he was somewhat fulfilling the actual mission you’d come for, which was acting like a couple in love as bait to get some information on a group that was specifically targeting couples for their acts and scams. 

“Uhm, are you alright?” You turned to the concerned bartender, who had immediately turned towards you once again when he heard your shocked yelp from before. 

“If he’s bothering you, I can call security.”

You rolled your eyes, for probably the nth time that night, murmuring under your breath how if he hadn’t given him the shots, he wouldn’t act that way.

“No it’s fine- he gets…clingy when he’s out of it.” 

“Gyu?” The coldness of the ring on your ring finger touched his cheek which made him slightly wake up from almost dozing off as you had turned your attention away from him.

The ring didn’t go unnoticed to the bartender as he nodded at you and went about his business. 

Turns out your mission was already halfway complete because you didn’t really need to fake being a couple, after all being married for six years is probably as real as it could get. 

“You’re so pretty, wanna marry you and just be with you~” 

You couldn’t stop the giggle now, your eyes sparkling underneath the club lights as you rubbed his cheek in adoration.

Well what was the point of trying to accomplish the mission anyways? You knew you would be able to get the information through other ways, so you might as well just 'have fun' as your actual partner ( for life ) said right?

Your anger was considerably simmered since it had occurred to you, it had been an actual while since you went out with him. Even if he was your husband, it was tough to get free time when you were both the best at your agency. 

“Well I think you’ve already accomplished that yeah baby?” You don’t think you’ll ever get over how your stomach feels like butterflies are roaming around when he grins at you the way he is at the moment. 

You’ll definitely never get over how he always and always looks at you like you hung up every star in the universe just for him to gaze at in awe. He looks at you, always did as if you held all the answers to his questions and perhaps in a sense you did. You were his everything, all the answers and all the stars. 

“I love you.” Your cheeks were probably hurting from grinning so much, you could never be angry at him. 

You moved your face a little closer to his, pecking his nose and pulling back,

“I do too. I mean I don’t think I'd have kept up with your annoying ass for the past almost decade if I didn’t.”

Before he could go on a rant about how mean you were being, you moved again, placing your lips on his, effectively shutting him up as his hazy brain tried to comprehend his long time–lifetime– crush kissing him. 

He would never get used to how you would make him feel like he’s a giddy boy in love all over again just from your mere actions. He’s probably been in love a trillion times by now but just with you and only you. 

Mission be darned, if he could have you like this at the end of the day, he doesn’t think he’ll ever regret anything. 

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

[fallinforgyu]

ateez reaction to riling them up in public? like maybe with other ppl around n you tryna feel em up under the table or sumn or like, in a movie theater, that sort of thing...

anon i will kiss u on the forehead... bless u

hongjoong doesn't like pda. he wants to keep intimate moments intimate and would give you NO reaction if you tried to feel him up in public. he might even shoot you a look or directly tell you to stop. you'd think he's mad at you until the moment the door closes behind him and you're alone. "What exactly were you trying to do?" he'd ask, walking closer and closing in on you, "Start something you couldn't finish?" And then, just to remind you who's in charge, he'd tie you up. You're excited just to feel his hands on you, but don't get your hopes up - you're not gonna get to cum for at LEAST an hour. "How does it feel to be teased? It's not fun, huh baby?"

seonghwa... i actually think he would really love this. first of all i think he might be a bit of an exhibitionist so if you feel him up in front of one of the other members that's a HUGE plus. idk idk i have this very clear image in my head of seonghwa making eye contact with and smirking at the members while he's getting his neck kissed idk idk... anyway. as an aries mars this man probably LOVES quickies, so feeling him up in public would almost always lead to you bent over a sink in some sleazy public restroom, his hands all over you and his lips against your ear, saying shit like "This is what you wanted, hm? Pretty little slut." God and then he LOVES putting your panties back on and making you go about the rest of your day with his cum dripping out of you.

yunho plays along with it. the second he feels your hand brushing against his thigh at the movie theater, he leans over and presses his lips directly to your ear. "What are you doing, pretty girl?" He'd smirk, knowing damn well what you're doing. Well, two can play at that game. he'd put his arm around you, starting by stroking your hair and ear, then brushing the back of his fingertips down your neck. once you're nice and covered in chills, he'd gently grope the side of your breast, smirking and kissing the side of your head when you squirm. by the end of the movie, you're so worked up that you forgot the whole thing was your idea. but don't worry, yunho's gonna remind you of that every few minutes when he's overstimulating you at home later. "Come on, sweetie. You can cum one more time for me, can't you? You were so needy for me earlier."

i'm picturing a very specific scenario with yeosang. walk with me. you're at the mall with him and when you walk past a lingerie store, you think it's the perfect opportunity to tease him. you ask him to go to the store with you and he nods, trying to act as chill as possible about it. that is until you're holding up pretty sets against your body, asking yeosang if he thinks they'd look good on you. he'd be pretty quiet but he'd give you his honest opinion, blushing through the whole ordeal. your mall trip ends shortly after that because yeosang is suddenly in a huge rush to get home, begging you "Please put that red one on for me" as soon as you're home. have i mentioned i think yeosang loves lingerie? bc i do. "Drove me crazy to think about you wearing all of those pretty things for me," he'd breathe, biting your neck, "Just so I can make a mess of you in them."

god there's something so romantic about san. i really think teasing touches and stolen kisses are just things that come with loving him. even if you're just at a cafe having coffee and chatting, your fingertips brushing up and down his arm while you talk to him just feels so comfortable and right. he's the type to pull you into an empty alley and press you to the wall and kiss you with everything he has in his body just because he felt like it. i'm telling yall... post date sex with san goes CRAZY because you will have spent the entire date subconsciously working each other up. "You know just how i like it, baby. You know just how to make me feel good," he'd groan through slow, passionate strokes and deep kissing </3

mingi's first reaction is to get giggly. i think his body is so sensitive and he's a little bit ticklish, so feeling your hands on particularly sensitive parts of his body might make him a little squirmy. but just be patient, be gentle and keep going because in a few minutes he'll mellow out and really allow himself to feel your touches. his eyelids might get a little heavy, his eyes might glaze over a bit but he's in heaven allowing himself to be loved on. "Doing okay, handsome?" you'd ask and he'd snap out of it a bit. "That feels nice." he'd nod, a dopey smile on his face. ask him if he wants more and he'll be home and underneath you in a matter of minutes - a moaning, panting mess who loves nothing more than being the center of your attention.

we're kidding ourselves if we say that wooyoung is anything other than the one who would be teasing you. this man is THE teaser. was quite literally born to tease. he'd constantly be coming up with excuses to try to rile you up - sucking ice cream off your fingers after it dripped down the cone and onto your hand, running his hand up your thigh while you're trying to watch tv, slapping your ass when he walks past you, the list goes on. he wants to see just how far he can push you before you break. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? You gonna punish me? Or are you gonna admit to yourself that you liked it, hm?" yeah that's wooyoung.

jongho just wants to make sure your needs are taken care of </3 as soon as you start trying to feel him up it's "Hm? What's gotten into you, baby? Do you need me?" and best believe he will prioritize your needs over ANY function he's at. the minute you nod your head or give him that desperate look, he has you in the passenger seat of his car with his hand on your thigh. "I'm gonna turn you into a brat if I keep giving you whatever you want whenever you want it," he'd smirk, kissing you and sliding his hands up your skirt, "But how am I supposed to say no to you when you're this damn cute all the time?"

[blackcatplushie]

Yandere in an Apocalypse

warnings: gun, blood, some violence

male yandere x reader

You run as fast as you can into the forest night. It's so dark outside you can barely see what's in front of you. Your feet hurt so much but you can't stop running, not while he's not far behind. It's colder outside than you remember. Or maybe it's because you're only wearing your pajamas. You didn't have the time to worry about dressing appropriately. 

Your lungs burn from running so hard. It's been a while since you've been so active. Hope springs into your chest as you see the fence come up on the horizon. You quickly throw your bag over and climb over not being aware of the jagged rocks behind the fence. You slip and slam your leg hard against a sharp rock. 

Blood oozes out and spills over your leg like a curtain. It's a large cut, from the middle of your calf down to your ankle. You whimper in pain and sit on the ground for a moment, cursing at the world for being so unforgiving.

Panic starts to rise as you look around for signs of any ghouls nearby. Zade went out often to "clean" the area and look for supplies but you weren't so sure about that anymore. The familiar groaning and stench of rot grows near as you struggle to get up.

You quickly try to wipe the blood away with your shirt but it's too late. They wander towards you with lifeless eyes and their jaws unhinging unnaturally, ready to devour. 

Your legs move before you can think. You try to run, ignoring the burning pain in your leg and the gush of blood that comes every step you take. You have to get to the edge of the forest no matter what. You remember seeing a motorbike rental shop there when you and Zade first came to this forest. It wasn't the greatest plan but maybe you could take a bike and get away from here. 

As you run, the smell of rot doesn't seem to go away leaving you confused. You realize too late that you're being surrounded by ghouls. They had been coming from ahead and behind you. They crowd around you hungrily. A crooked and manged hand shoots out towards you. Before it can touch you, a bullet whizzes past, shooting the ghoul in the head. 

You tremble and look behind you to see the man you've been running from. "Get down!" Zade yells. You get down and cover your ears. Bullets rain down on the ghouls taking them down quickly. You shake in fear hearing the gunshots. When did this become so commonplace? You wish you could go back to life before all this mess. When things were normal and you didn't have to spend everyday on edge. 

The bullets stop and you look up slowly, still trembling in fear. Not because of the ghouls but because now Zade is here and you know he isn't happy with you. His footsteps trudge towards you and you can't help but look down again. He sighs deeply before crouching in front of you and yanking your injured leg towards him. 

You yelp in pain and surprise which he scoffs at. "So fucking stupid. You did all this just to need me to save you. Do you know how pathetic that looks?"

You look away, not able to say anything. If he notices your fear, he doesn't mention it. Or maybe, he just doesn't care anymore. His rough fingers trace the edges of your wound. "Shit... I think you might need stitches," his eyes soften and the edge in his tone lightens after seeing the look on your face. "Don't worry, I'll fix you up as soon as we get home."

He pulls out a cloth and wraps it tightly around your leg. It hurts but you try not to let it show. He notices anyways. "It needs to be tight so you don't lose too much blood."

"I-I know..."

"You're so clumsy, how could I ever let you out?" he mutters to himself. "You could've died."

"What's that?"

"...Why can't you just let me go?" you mutter bitterly. 

"Why do I have to live like this? E-everyday I'm stuck waiting for you that facility for you to come back like some sort of dog... Or even worse I have to play nice and sweet so that you don't get upset and punish me!" you begin to sob, the resentment overwhelming you. "I'd rather die, but that's not allowed either! I hate you... I hate you so much!"

A unfamiliar expression appears on his face. At first it looks like anger and then guilt. He sighs, getting up slowly. "... Let's just go home. If you want to throw a tantrum right now, do it at home where the ghouls can't get you," he says. 

There's a rustling sound to the side of you and Zade. A ghouls stands up among the pile of bodies. Zade reaches for his gun, about to shoot but stops and looks back at you with a strange expression. "Huh, I guess I left one alive..."

He steps away from you leaving you confused and scared as the ghoul creeps near you following the scent of fresh blood. 

"Z-Zade? W-what are you doing? Hurry! It's coming closer!"

"Hm? Yeah... So what?" he says blankly. He tilts his head to the side smiling. 

"Please..! I-I'm sorry, just please kill it already!"

Your mind races, thinking about what he wants to hear. There's no time to think about being shameful right now. You want to get away from Zade of course but getting mauled by a ghoul is a painful way to go. Your pleading eyes dart frantically between the ghoul and Zade. In the end you spit out whatever you could think of, "Please help me, Zade! I'm sorry for running away, I-I just—Please I-I love you!"

"Hmm, okay, but only if you say what I want you to hear. I'm feeling a bit petty. You were just so mean to me." He puts his hand over his heart with and looks at you with a deep frown while wiping his nonexistent tears. You can't believe how annoying he's being right now. You're about to be mauled by a ghoul and he's sitting there joking around. 

In a swift motion, Zade pulls out a pistol and shoots the ghoul in the mouth right before it could chomp down on you. Its blood splatters on your face. You shake and sob, feeling tired and miserable from this whole mess. Zade comes down next to you and wipes the ghoul blood off your face with his sleeve. He's smiling down on you, a warm and satisfied look in his eyes. 

"Oh, you poor thing," he says softly, "Let's get you home, yeah? Get you a nice warm bath and some rest."

He picks you up and holds you tight for a moment. His brown hair tickles against the crook of your neck. You can feel him trembling a little before kissing your cheek and making his way back home. "I love you too... more than anything."

You lift your head slightly and see that the sun is starting to rise. Trails of ghoul bodies are littered across the trail. Ignoring the bodies, the forest looks beautiful in the morning. "Am I going to be punished?" you ask Zade tearfully. 

You sniffle, your cries easing into shudders as he carries you home. You can't help but feel comforted as he holds you. He's the only one you have left after all. The people you loved and the world you knew before has withered away into nothingness. You wrap your arms around him and cry into his shoulder. He pats your head softly. 

He laughs softly, his dimples showing. "Of course you are."

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 31

SUGGESTED POTENTIAL NON-CON

You have completed your contract admirably soldier, I think our mutts may miss you - Laswell

It’s strange. You wake up without your alarm in your own bed and it’s strange. You go put the kettle on for a cup of tea and it’s strange.

You are no longer under contract for the Kennel. The month had been defined as 30 days, so here you are with more money than you know what to do with, a body that is aching from all the hedonism of the past weeks and an utter uncertainty about what comes next.

You suppose what comes next is taking a week off to recover and not have to think about it yet.

So you showered (had you had to wash your own body at all in the last month or had there always been someone to do it for you?), dressed and went to get groceries. You caught up on TV shows mostly once everything was packed away.

It was sort of nice having alone time but sort of not knowing that it was probably going to be like this for the foreseeable future.

You had still been contracted at the end of the day, so it wasn’t like you were suddenly going to develop the ability to date. It was just sex. Just a release for people who needed it and were too dangerous to get it from civilians.

So why did you feel so conflicted about the likelihood of never seeing them again?

—

The day went quickly, but the evening lasted forever as you laid on the sofa and just tried to process. At least until you heard something from your bedroom. Could have been nothing, but you didn’t have a veritable shit ton of military and special forces training to dismiss things that could be nothing.

You had checked your house as soon as you had gotten back and it hadn’t been touched, so you knew there was a gun safely stowed away in a drawer of the coffee table. You got it out slowly and stood, going to investigate the bedroom.

Now you had never actually seen Ghost masked up before, it wasn’t like he cared about hiding his identity in the Kennel and the people he was around weren’t in any position to judge his scars, but you’d recognise those eyes anywhere. He was looking at the photo on your bedside table, you and your cat (she had died a few years back and it didn’t seem fair to adopt another when your work meant they would be staying with a neighbour most of the time).

“Gonna shoot me princess?” he asked, still looking at the photo.

“The Kennel shouldn’t be escapable” you said, keeping your gun trained on him.

“It’s not. Not if I was trying to get out alone. But give me a group of very motivated soldiers? Becomes a lot easier then” he said as he placed the photo back where it was and turned to you, arms crossed. “Get your sweet arse packed, I’m taking you home.”

“Nice try” you said, both hands steadying the gun.

“Gonna shoot me?”

“I don’t want to Ghost. You need to leave.”

“Then sink a bullet into me princess, because I’m not leaving without you and I don't much care if you're conscious for the trip.”

You aimed for his shoulder, just a warning graze but it must have hurt like a bitch as it took off a chunk of skin at the surface and his body jolted with the force. Good thing you picked a rural house, there were farms around here so gun shots weren’t totally uncommon with critters coming to feast on chickens.

“Yes you are.”

“Hmm” he chuffed, seemingly a little surprised you had actually shot him but not at all put out by it. “You never did let Mace fuck you with a gun did you? Could be fun you know.”

You were hopeful that it didn’t show on your face that your dumb hind brain found the idea a little hot. Mace had threatened it when you were playing the part of the doe-eyed step-daughter who idolised a daddy that definitely wanted to fuck her. Would he have went through with it?

“And if I said red?” you asked because there in lay the issue.

Under contract you had some protection. You did not imagine the same would apply if he took you back now.

You were furious with yourself when your wrists were twisted and Price disarmed you. You should have been paying attention behind you, should have considered that Ghost would hardly have come alone.

“Depends on my mood sweetheart. If I really think you need it I’ll let you safeword.”

You went for him, tried to get him down so you could rush past and get out of the situation. But your hand to hand was rusty and he was stronger than you, so it didn’t take him long to get you pinned against him and restrained.

“So what you just kidnap me? You’re supposed to fucking run the Kennel but I’m starting to think you should be a resident sir.”

“So am I sweetheart. Of course if you lived there then being a resident doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I’m not spending the rest of my life in a prison because you want a personal whore.”

“You’d be free to come and go so long as you came back to us” Ghost said, calmly watching the whole exchange.

“And what? I just get a brief everyday of who I’ve to service?” you asked, bitterness flooding your tone.

God it was so stupid. The deal was technically good. You got to live a life of luxury, got freedom to come and go and got to be intimate with people that you foolishly held affection for. Would it be so bad? So what if it wasn’t real? So what if you were just a means to an end for them while you would be doomed to pine forever for reciprocation of what you were sure would bloom into love?

“You’d get briefs from people who want to spend time with you so you can choose if you want to or not” Price answered, squeezing you a little.

“And if I never say yes?”

“Unlikely. We all owe you orgasms after being so mean with them yesterday, don't you want what you're owed?” Ghost laughed.

“I told you I’d only listen to a safeword if I thought you really needed it sweetheart. What you’re describing is a situation where what you’d need is a good fucking to remember who you belong to.”

“I belong to myself John Price.”

“Technically that’s true in the eyes of the law and God” Ghost said, considering, sly.

You could feel Price harden against your ass and you made a sound of protest.

“Can’t help it sweetheart, he’s got wedding bells in my head.”

“I- excuse me?”

“Seems a fair trade. You’d agree to belong to me and by extension all my dogs in the Kennel, I’d agree to belong to you and by extension they would too. Fuck you’d look stunning in white” he groaned, hips rutting against you.

“White?” Ghost said with a smirk.

“Doesn’t count if she was under contract. I’m sure Farah will lend her something borrowed if it comes down to it.”

—

She did. You wore a little reddish bead on a necklace on your wedding day. Price barely made it though the ceremony given that he was rock solid the whole time. Fucking wife kink.

It took place in the Kennel of course so everybody could attend. Things had changed. Velikan was a temporary resident now, mostly because he enjoyed trailing a step behind you when you went out shopping. Soap was permanent on account of Ghost saying he was sick of not having 24 hour access to his holes. You’d have thought it was romantic from how Soap preened about it. Valeria was gone but she visited sometimes. That iron control of herself she had meant the Kennel didn't have much justification to keep her locked up.

You met Nikolai in person and discovered him and Price made a hell of a tag team.

And you got to see what it was like when someone new was brought in with Kreuger. It wasn't pretty. You wondered if they had all been as untameably violent and angry about it when they first got here. If not for Mace and König you weren't sure the guy would even be unchained ever, but to your surprise they gelled well with him and turned out very good at keeping him in check.

By the time there was a second wedding he had calmed a lot. Enough that he got to attend with everybody else when Farah got a ring on Alex (another ring you thought given the ink that looped around his cock).

The only mention of the gunshot wound Ghost had was jealous looks from Nikto. Sometimes you thought about that little brand sitting on Ghost's skin and how it might look burned into yours. There were still silvery marks from the knife and you were almost sad thinking about how they would likely fade entirely.

You didn’t stop working, but then you were one of the monsters now so may as well do what you were trained for. Your radio and signals room was state of the art and half the kit in it was definitely not legal, but at this point legal was a pretty meaningless concept. You did horrible things, but at least there were always warm bodies to keep the nightmares away. Plus you had a little fluff ball companion keeping you company since a cat had shown up out of the blue (you were fairly certain exactly who had brought her in but he never mentioned it).

Sometimes you got whisked away. Ale and Rudy took you to Ale’s family vineyard for a week in the Mexican sun. Calisto surprised you with a romantic night in Paris. Keegan shoved you in a ridiculous dress so he could show you off to his team and you paid him back for every dig he took at you that night. Gaz took you to a football game during which him, Nova and Price argued the whole damn time. Lots of holidays, lots of laughter and dare you say contented happiness.

Now you just had to avoid giving in to that pesky fucking pregnancy kink half of them had.

[dixons-sunshine]

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader—Daryl With A Kid Headcannons

Word count: 733.

A/n: Requests are temporarily closed! I'll open them up again soon, though. Anyways, I hope you like this! (By the way, the child's age isn't mentioned, but it's set around the toddler stage!)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

★ Daryl was so amazed that he had a child of his own.

★ When you had first told him you were pregnant all those years ago, his world had turned upside down. However, the first time he held his baby, he knew it was in a good way.

★ As his child grew up, he did everything with them that his own father never did with him, subconsciously healing his inner child by doing so.

★ When I say everything, I mean everything. From teaching them how to ride a bicycle, to teaching them how to swim, to building pillow forts, to colouring or drawing with them. Anything his child felt like doing that day, he would make a reality.

★ Except if he knew it was dangerous for his child. Then it was an automatic no.

★ Daryl was surprisingly good at handling his child's tantrums. His child shared his own temper, so he knew exactly how to curb their tantrums.

★ He loved having his kid sleep in bed with the two of you. With you on one side and him on the other, the both of you keeping your child safe between the two of you.

★ One of his favourite things in the whole world is when the two of you are cuddled up on the couch with your child resting on either of your chests, some old Disney movie playing on the television.

★ He'd be filled with so much love when he looks from the television and see that the both of you fell asleep while resting against/on him. It made him feel valued, like the two of you trusted him enough to keep you safe while you slept.

★ Talks of having another child come up from time to time. Daryl knows how important having a sibling can be and wants that for his kid, but at the same time, he's terrified of having more children. He was terrified of having just one, but he doesn't regret it.

★ So if you want another kid, he'd never deny you that.

★ Family days are his favourite!

★ Those days where you whip out a deck of Uno cards or some board game you found are some of the absolute best times of his life.

★ Even if your toddler doesn't understand the game and ends up following their own rules. In his opinion, that makes the game even more fun.

★ He knows he doesn't have the best singing voice and he doesn't know any lullabies, but he tries his best.

★ He manages to sing some of his favourite songs from the old world in a tone that closely resembles a lullaby, and that often does the trick.

★ Daryl feels so bad when he raises his voice.

★ After seeing his child cry and run to their room, he instantly feels like the lowest piece of shit on earth. He almost always gets transfered back to those times with his father, and he wonders if he's starting to turn into that bastard.

★ It takes some gentle reassurance from you that he wasn't his dad for him to go up to his child's room and apologize.

★ Cue his surprise and great relief when they run straight into his arms and instantly forgive him.

★ Everything is almost always sorted out by gently addressing the situation, and Daryl always leaves feeling happy, yet frustrated.

★ Happy because his child doesn't hate him and they managed to resolve everything, but frustrated because he realized how easy it was to just sit and talk it out. Not once did he ever feel the urge to hit his kid, so his hatred for his father grew more each time.

★ Whenever he's walking outside with his kid, he loves holding their hand to keep them close.

★ Of course, if the kid didn't like that, he wouldn't push that boundary, but if they didn't mind, Daryl would love to hold their tiny hand in his. It's something his mom used to do with him when he was a toddler and it made him feel safe, so he hoped that his kid felt the same way with him.

★ Daryl loves his child and he always tries his best. That much everyone could see.

[stinmybubs]

“Rot my brain.”

Roommate B. Katsuki in love with a girl whose addicted to video games.

B. Katsuki x AFAB! Reader

Bakugou never understood why you were so glued to your PC or any console you could get your little hands on. Sitting there for hours and hours playing brain rotting video games.

It pissed him the fuck off.

You barley left your room other to use the bathroom, shower, eat, and clean out your room. He was a bit glad you were a clean type of gamer instead of a stinky messy one.

Random packages you’d order always piling up at the door, he almost tripped over them when he had to leave for work. How the fuck were you able to afford so much shit without a job?

He would make dinner in hopes you would eat with him, but of course you always ate ramen or some sort of frozen meal before he even got home.

He felt as if he was living alone with some girl coming and going at random times, he barley saw you. Which he should be thankful for, but he was head over heels for you, why? He doesn’t even know.

Maybe it was the time you helped him back in the apartment when he was drunk, letting him rant to you on your shared couch before you slipped away to your cave.

Or the time he accidentally walked in on you cosplaying a character in a skimpy outfit, taking pictures of yourself in lewd positions before you screamed at him to get out of your room.

Or maybe it was the little conversations you two would have at the most unexpected times. The conversations that made it seem you two knew each other for a life time.

He had to find out what the hype was about, so he barged into your room while you were playing a very competitive game. Clearly you didn’t notice his hand placed on the back of your chair as he hovered over you.

He didn’t know what game you were playing, it was a first person shooter so it could honestly be any game in the world.

“One flank.” You speaking spooked him a bit, he hasn’t seen you so focused on something ever.

Soon the game ended, with him sitting there next to you the whole time. You took of your headphones, letting them slide down your neck while you leaned back in your chair with a long sigh. “I’m loosing my mind…” turning to grab your water you jump in fear at the man sitting next to you.

“HOLY SHIT BAKUGOU!” You scream, leaning so back your chair almost falls backwards but Katsuki was quick enough to catch you.

“What the fuck are you doing in here!? When did you even get in??”

“I jst’ wanted to see what the hype was all about. You’re always in your room playin this shit.”

“Oh…uh, I don’t know why I’m so into this game, it makes me so fucking mad I hate it so much.”

“Then why do ya’ keep playin it.”

“Cuz it’s fun.”

Katsuki just looked at you like you said the most dumbest shit he’s ever heard. Which made you burst into laughter.

“Here I’ll teach you how to play! And maybe you could be my duo!” You cheered letting him take your spot in your chair.

After that day Katsuki played with you whenever had had free time, forcing you to eat dinner with him outside your room and stop eating all that processed shit you always ate.

This way you two got closer, he of course didn’t play all the time since he didn’t want his brain to rot and he had a full time job. So he stopped to watch you in your room, hanging out on your bed watching you closely. Probably making fun of your plays too.

You ended up opening up to katsuki, getting out of your room more whenever he got home, you at the door greeting him was always the best part of his day. He loved having movie night with you, he never shows it but he was just so happy to be closer to you.

Sooner or later, you two were more than just roommates.

AN: school is kicking my butt cuz of graduation. I am trying to finish all my 100 follower specials!

(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)

[mistyyyy]

Omg hiiii!

Uhhhh this is my first time requesting anything so sorry if I’m coming off too direct but idk any other way to do this. ✌️✌️

Can I request a pegging fic w/ Aizawa, where you’ve folded him in half are holding his legs down while his hands are bound. I’ve found little to no fics with a sub!aizawa, nonetheless fics that really hit the nail on the head for this mans character 😩😩😩.

Like- he’s trying not to give you a reaction.. but those strokes you’re giving him 🤭.

My boys having a really really tough time, twitching and shaking involuntarily. Biting his lip to try and muffle the sounds while he squirms for some sort of leverage but he can’t do anything because you’ve folded this man like paper. He’s trying to fight against the leather cuffs but to no avail. He would be wondering why tf he let you do this to him but he can’t think of anything other than you ramming that dildo up his ass- SORRY IM GONNA STOP NOW ✋✋✋ WHEWWWWWWWWWW

Resist.

Heyy….yall 👀 *clears throat.*

CW: Condescending reader, soft dom reader, pegging, bottom Aizawa, sub Aizawa, slight feminization, slight mean reader, forced edging, restraining

Words: 940

"Come on now baby you can take this dick..." You breathed out, warm breath fanning into his blushed ear as your strap slammed in and out of his hole. His moans were whiny and guttural, his breath and body strained as you forced his thighs against stomach. "M-mngh- fuck you..." he cursed out, pretty eyes squeezed shut as he tried to get a hold of reality, trying to ignore how good you made him felt. He was so stubborn, not wanting to fully submit even if you had him folded like this

You couldn't help but to grin down at him, the grip on his hairy thighs tightening. You found it amusing that he was suffering, that he was trying so hard not to enjoy the way you thrusted into him, the tip of your strap repeatedly thrusting into his prostate. "Cmon baby don't be like that... shit, you're dripping like a girl." You chuckled eyes peering down towards his throbbing red tip, pre cum drooling down to his toned belly, sliding down his angry shaft.

Your words only added more embarrassment to his situation, sun freckled skin flushing red, arms flexing behind his back as he wanted to so badly touch you, to place his hands underneath your ass to help you fuck him. His body twitched and arched, his lips red and swollen as he pulled them into his mouth to keep his nasty sounds at bay.

It didn't work of course. Not when you were fucking him like this, not when your nails dug into his muscles to hold his thighs in place, his ass and your hips angled just right. "Mmnhg-mmsofuckinclose," he whines, voice fast, throat raspy and raw from his muffled groans and grunts-rambles falling from his swollen lips, repeating how close he was to releasing.

Then you did something unexpected, a sharp gasp leaving his mouth-he almost choked and cough. Your hand left his thigh to grip onto the base of his dick, your grip tight, holding onto him like a vise. "Don't fucking cum yet, don't you dare... not until you admit it," you spoke, your hips slowing, letting him chase the orgasm he couldn't quite grasp.

This was fucking torture for the man, his face scrunching up from the uncomfortable feeling of his balls and stomach tightening from the edge, from how tight you were holding him. Why why whyyy did he let you do this? Why did he agree to let you play with him like this- why... his thoughts soon turned into mush though as he desperately wanted that high, to feel that fuzzy feeling in his brain when he came.

“P-please..” he gritted out, hoping if he begged you for release he wouldn’t have to admit how good it felt, how much he enjoyed being folded and manhandled like this. Little did he know this was more pathetic than him just admitting how good it felt.

You didn’t let him get a pass. As much as you loved to hear his rough pleases and begs to cum- you didn’t let him. So with a corrective slap on his thigh, your hips continued to move relentlessly, your hand fisting his cock tightly, not giving him a chance to forget his place. “Come on baby, you know what I want to hear. Tell me how good I make you feel, tell me how good your wife is fucking you,”

Your tone was cocky and condescending, a smirk on your face as you listened to his pained whines and whimpering, watching as his stomach caved in, his plump pecks vibrating with every thrust you gave him. He couldn’t even speak coherently anymore, his deep voice replaced with something more feminine and rough as he tried to explain how good you made him felt. “I-oh god-I- I can’t, please- you make me-“ he swallowed thickly, his voice a gasp as you kept hitting that spot, his balls throbbing and red as you restricted his base, “feelsogood,” he continued, eyes barely opened as they stared up at yours.

You felt a pang of satisfaction once he finally gave you what you wanted, a low hum leaving your throat. You could feel the way he throbbed and pulsated in your palm, his body reacting to your noises, your voice, your movements. When you finally released his shaft his mind couldn’t even keep up with the way his body reacted, how fast his orgasm came, how hot and twitchy his body felt as a white heat filled his body.

You watch as his heavy load squirted and shot onto his stomach, his chest, how it lazily dripped down his red cock until it dropped near his navel. “Mm~ good job baby… you look so good like this.” You praised your husband, your sloppy thrusting slowly down into a lazily hump as you let him ride through his orgasm.

His tanned lined body stained red, his abdomen covered in his sweat and arousal, black hair sprawled on y’all’s mattress like a dark halo. He huffed out air as he slowly caught his breath, his body felt like jello and his thighs twitched against his body as he felt your gently thumbs draw circles on the inside of his muscles. “Fuck… where’d you learn that…” he asked, voice raspy and tired as his eyes came to a close.

You chuckled, a cocky grin on your face as you continued to stare down at his fucked state. “Twitter.”

[alocon]

Irresistible - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Fem!reader

written by alocon

Summary: Despite all hope, Lando never lost his feelings for his best friend's twin sister. However, he still hadn't acted on it. Well, that was until the party, which led you two into a long-term secret relationship

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, a bit of smut - not too much but still some, best friend's sister

[Masterlist] [Part Two Here] [Part Three Here] [Part Four Here]

Irresistible - LN⁴ x Fem!reader

You and Lando Norris had always had a flirty relationship. It had always been a joke between you because it always really pissed off your brother. "Dude you can't flirt with my sister, that's weird, what the fuck." He would say. So they would do it more.

Lando first realised that he was falling for you when you both were 13. He was at Max's house playing games in his room when you walked into his room, angrily glaring at your brother. "Max, if you don't stop using my shampoo, I will kill you."

You hadn't realised that your brother wasn't in the room until afterwards. He had watched as your eyes trailed over every single feature on his face. You had smiled shyly, stepping into the room and holding out your hand. You told him your name. He told you his. Then your brother came back, and you said a few choice words to him before he kicked you out. And from that moment, Lando Norris was mesmerised

"It will go away," he always said. He tried not to feel for you because you're his best friend's twin sister, so it was wrong, right? However, through the years of trying to get over his feelings for you,all attempts would crash back down.

Through lockdown and 2021, you, Max, and Lando lived together. Max spent most of the time in his room. You spent a lot of the time in the living room, and Lando switched between the two. You were there when he got his first podium, and he went straight to you as Max wasn't there, pulling you into the biggest hug he could. You lost your voice from cheering for him.

In 2021, Max moved out, but you and Lando remained in the same house whilst you continued the apartment hunt in Monaco. You still had a house in England, though. For visiting family. You had always dreamed of living there - it was so beautiful. You and Lando had helped move each other in when you got there. He soon regretted that, though, when he had to put away the many pieces of lingerie that you owned. Maybe he shouldn't have offered to do that because the thoughts about it wouldn't leave his mind. And every time it got back into his brain, the blood decided to go elsewhere... Which, again, made it difficult as he would then have to sort the problem out, sometimes whilst you were also in the house.

He couldn't look at you the same after that. And you knew it. You knew it because there were multiple occasions where you had heard him moaning your name.

For 2 years, you knew that he wanted you in that way. You didn't know that he was equally as in love with you as you were with him, though. You could tell that he was only holding back because Max was your brother. Lando would've been all over you if he wasn't, you knew that. He had some small amount of self restraint remaining but you intended to change that. You started off small, just making more flirty comments, complaining about men being shit after failed dates because you hadn't got laid in a year and it was doing your head in. Then you felt more comfortable wearing your robe out of your room more often in the evenings rather than putting a jumper on to cover your pyjamas.

Lando's voice could be heard from the kitchen as you walked in to grab yourself a drink. You felt his eyes on you almost immediately as you reached up to the cupboard, grabbing the glasses which were, inconveniently, on the highest shelf. He stuttered slightly as he continued his phone call, watching as you filled up your drink and shot him a wink before leaving.

He was fucked.

On the day of the party in question, you had awoken to a sudden presence on top of you. You groaned, showing the laughing brit off of you. "Stop jumping onto me to wake me up, what the fuck, Lan."

He didn't answer, pulling you into a dramatic hug. "Happy birthday!" He started placing dramatic kisses on your forehead - a running joke you two had about you being home sick as your mother used to always do that.

"Wow, at least give me a birthday kiss on the lips," you joked, sitting up in bed and running your hand through your hair. He moved to sit beside you.

"Am I that irresistible that the first think you think about when you see me is kissing me?"

"Trust me." You leant closer to his earl, fingers trailing up his chest as you spoke. "You think you're irresistible? Wait until you see my outfit tonight." You got out of bed, heading to get ready for the day.

You hadn't seen him much after that. He had spent most of the day with Max, which you were fine with as you got him most days. The next time you saw him was at the party.

You should've known it would be like this. You both went half and half for the party on the venue but, of course, he had invited all of his friends before telling you the capacity, meaning that you couldn't invite any of your friends. It's how it went. He would do a party for them both but only with his friends and then would tell you not to speak to his friends because you were embarrassing. Great.

So that's how you ended up sat outside of the venue, in the garden, whilst most people were inside, just ignoring everyone. It was your birthday too but he had made this place, which you paid for for a joint party, all about himself.

She had been there for 5 hours and she had only actually talked to Ria, P, Oscar and Logan for a few minutes each. When they each asked why you were sat outside, you had made an excuse about having a slight headache. "Don't worry about me, just calming the headache down," you would say.

Lando was looking for you everywhere. He had been there for a few hours and seen no sign of you or your friends. It was only when his eyes met Oscar's that he finally inquired. "Osc, you haven't seen Max's sister anywhere have you? I still can't find her."

"Oh, yeah. Last I saw her, she was sat outside. Maybe check there?"

So that's where he went. He leant against the doorway after stepping outside. "Don't feel like partying? None of your friends are here."

You kept looking ahead of you, sitting on the bench which he soon joined you on. "Max took up the capacity with all of his friends so I couldn't invite anyone." You shrugged.

Lando's hand fell on top of yours which rested on the bench between you both. "Have you been here for 5 hours without speaking to anyone?"

"I said hi to Oscar, Logan and Ria and spoke to each of them for a few minutes."

He took the opportunity to look at your outfit. You were right - you looked really hot.

You both fell into silence, just enjoying the view for a little while. Well, that was until a familiar song came on. It was one of your favourite slow songs.

He stood up, hand grabbing onto yours. "Come on," he said, helping you to your feet.

"What are we doing?"

"Dancing."

His hands slid to your waist as yours went straight onto his shoulders. You decided to let him lead, which he did well. You both gently swayed around to the sound of the music, your head placing onto his shoulder as you did. He grabbed your hand, dramatically spinning you, making you chuckle as you took the time to enjoy the party for the first time that night. When the song came to an end, you looked into his eyes, whispering a soft "thank you."

He didn't answer, eyes tracing every part of your face and outfit, almost like he was committing every part of you to memory. Almost as if, after he let go, you would disappear and his only way of remembering you was to think of how you looked this night. You leant towards him, your foreheads pressing against one another as his eyes trailed down to your lips. And then, he connected their lips. 'Finally' she thought.

As your lips finally met after years of longing and love, it felt like a reunion of souls. The warmth of his grip tightening on your waist caused you to feel a wave of familiarity and comfort as it reminded you of the tight hugs that you would get after being apart for even a couple of weeks whilst he raced. You felt him sigh against your lips contently, almost as if all his problems were disappearing. You felt yourself moving backwards until your back pressed to the wall of the venue as his lips continued to press to yours, his tongue licking your bottom lip as you opened your mouth to allow him access. It was an embrace of passion and tenderness, a silent conversation of emotions that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

They only pulled away when they heard someone swear. Pulling away, they saw Alex and Lily looking at them cheekily. "I didn't think there would be others here I just. We won't tell anyone what we saw, we can go elsewhere."

You started laughing softly as you realised that Lily and Alex were there for the exact same reason as the two of you were. This made Lily break out of their awkward phase and start laughing. Lando grabbed your hand, speaking up. "No, you guys stay here, we were just heading home. Right?" Seeing the lustful look in his eyes, you nodded quickly, letting him lead you away as you heard calls from Alex.

"Use protection."

You felt yourself get pushed back onto Lando's bed as you, once again, melted into his embrace. His lips found your neck, not hesitating to press a bruising kiss into it, making you gasp softly. Lando pulled away to look into your eyes. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do this."

"Me too," you said, feeling his hands run down to the bottom off your dress. His shirt was already long gone. He tugged the dress, moving to stand up.

"I want this off." You don't hesitate to obey him, quickly slipping the black dress off before returning to the bed. By this point, he was also stood to remove his trousers. He then followed suit, turning to look at you. He looked over the lingerie you were wearing, biting his lip as he went back to you, quickly reconnecting your lips again. His hands found their way under your back and to your bra as he unclipped it, quickly throwing it off to the side and beginning to kiss down your body.

Lando collapsed back onto the bed, catching his breath, head leaning onto your shoulder. You could feel him smile against your skin as he placed a couple of gentle kisses against you before he spoke. "Fuck, if I knew it would be that good, I would've made a move a long time ago."

You chuckled to this, rubbing your hand through his hair as he cuddled up closer to you. "How about we give it a few minutes and then shower and sleep, yes?"

"Only if I get to sleep beside you."

She placed a kiss on his forehead, nodding. "Of course." She paused for a minute before speaking for a second time. "Told you I would be irresistible."

-The End-

[Word Count - 1,963]

Hi All,

Once again - this is my 2nd thing I've written. Please give me feedback x

Short one. I'm not good at writing smut but could give it a proper go if anyone wanted me to. But for now, Hope this was okay!! Might make this a short series of stories but I am unsure yet. Have a good day!! x

Alocon

[forever-rogue]

I don’t know if your still taking request about Miguel but im going to shoot my shot 🕷️🕸️

What about a request where after arguing with the reader (hater to lovers) and he falls into a small crack of the universe and gets a glimpses of married life with her and them having kids. Then he realizes he doesn’t hate her🥲

Totally okay if you don’t want to write it 😊😊

AN | Miguel really is just a big old softie at heart! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Yeah?” you tried to glare at Miguel with as much venom as possible. Judging from the unimpressed look on his face you realized your words probably didn’t land how you wanted them to, “well…well you’re big and stupid! And ugly.”

You heard a snicker from behind you and quickly turned to glare at Peter. He straightened up and cleared his throat immediately. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk as you sighed internally, “that’s the best you could do?”

“I, I…umm…”

“No matter how convincing your words or points are, I’m not changing my mind,” he pushed past you, not even bothering to look you in the face. The rest of the spiders all parted for him, already whispering among themselves, “you’re off any missions from here on out.”

“I hate you!” you shouted at his retreating back, trying to swallow down the tears that threatened to well up and pour down your cheeks.

“I know you do,” of course he heard. Curse the super hearing, “I hate you too.”

You scoffed and turned on your heel, storming off to go anywhere but here. You hated Miguel, you hated his stupid face and his stupid rules and everything about. 

Well, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of anyway. But you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t true. You didn’t truly hate him. You didn’t think you were capable of doing that. 

“Do none of you have anything better to do?!” you shouted loudly, waving your hand around as you stormed out to go…anywhere but there. You just knew that Peter and Miles were following after you, accompanied by some small coos from Mayday. 

Only once you were back out in the fresh air, which currently did little to help your nerves, did you turn around to face your friends. You held up with your hands and shrugged at them, “well? Say what’s on your mind then.”

“That was…a lot,” Miles scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked at Peter, “what happened?”

“Is this about what happened in-”

“Yes,” you hung your head with a heavy groan, “this is about Shanghai. Somehow it is all my fault and that means I cannot ever do anything again.”

“But it was…everyone’s fault,” the boys exchanged a look as Mayday made a small sound of confusion, “not just yours.”

“I’m well aware of that…I thought everyone was aware of that, but for some reason Miguel is not,” you scoffed at the sheer thought of him, “he has this like personal vendetta against me and I have no clue why. But I am so tired of it. Maybe he’s right though, maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“You’re not seriously considering leaving?” Miles’ entire face dropped as you shrugged, “I’m sure he’ll be over it soon.”

“Even so…maybe it’s time I don’t do this anymore,” you waved your hand around, “maybe it’s time I’m not some sort of fool with a weird radioactive spider bit doing vigilante shit.”

“But…but-” Peter had no clue how to follow that up - he’s been through those exact thoughts several times before, “you can’t just leave.”

“I dunno Peter,” you whispered, “it’s a lot to think about. But for now I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

“Promise you won’t leave leave without saying goodbye?” you’d miss these two most of all if you did leave. But you had your own decisions to make.

“Swear on it,” that much at least was a promise. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Miguel stopped dead in his tracks as he looked across the park. Part of him was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no - this was a reality that was simply different from his own. Anything could happen…and apparently anything did happen. 

Because there you were, crouched down and talking to a small boy that was staring back excitedly with a big smile on face. You reached out and ruffled his dark hair before he ran off again, running towards the jungle gym. You straightened back up and shook your head fondly. But then - then - the real surprise came…in the form of himself. 

Alternate universe Miguel walked up to you and threw an arm around your shoulders as you shook on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. No fucking way. His breath hitched in his throat as he continued to watch the two of you, attempting to process what in the actual hell was happening. That’s when he noticed the bands on both of your fingers and the fact that the small boy you had been talking to looked suspiciously like a combination of both of you.

“No way,” the actual Miguel ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, “there’s no way.”

But…this was a different reality and he knew, maybe better than anybody, that anything was possible. He hung his head and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; he was here for a reason, for a job, and he couldn’t let himself get distracted, and potentially ruin any canon events. He could feel the pull of curiosity getting the better of him; this was definitely not a reality that was any of his bingo cards. 

Really though, it should have been. Just because you believed he was an asshole, and let’s be honest he was, didn’t mean that he didn’t care about you. He probably cared too much  if he was being honest, which had led to him being overprotective of you and then…led to the current situation at hand. But you had fallen into the belief that he hated you and then you started to hate him and…yeah. Things were a mess essentially, but he could at least rest easier knowing that you were safe. 

He was going to turn around and complete what he was supposed to, really he was, but Miguel also knew that if you fell out of his view he’d probably never mind you again. And he had to know the current state of affairs between the two of you was. 

With a heavy huff, he camouflaged himself and hopped into a tree closer to the two of you. It wasn’t spying or anything…it was just gathering some intel. Sure, yeah, that’s what he was going to go with.

“Did you get everything for dinner, amor?” you raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously (he’d been on the receiving end of that look so many times), “and don’t even bother lying to me.”

“Of course I did,” Miguel knew that he was lying. He knew himself well enough.

“Miguel,” you huffed and he groaned lightly, “you didn’t get anything yet, did you?”

“I haven’t gotten anything,” he admitted and Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at himself, “I’m sorry, amor! I got so busy and I had Diego and…yeah.”

“Yeah?” your hands settled on your waist as you sighed heavily, but with nothing short of fondness. You reached over and patted his cheek gently, “how about I take Diego and then you can go to the store? The big dinner is tomorrow and we need to get started on everything tonight. Think you can handle that, big guy?”

Actual Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at this version; he was whipped for you. The real, or whatever you wanted to call him, wasn’t quite ready to fully admit that just yet. But deep down inside he knew it was true. 

“Okay,” he leaned over and kissed you softly, “whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Smart man,” you beamed at him and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder.

Miguel was watching with wide, curious eyes as the whole thing unwrapped. Eventually the two of you left, the small boy - who he assumed was named Diego - in tow. He wanted to keep following you but he knew that wouldn’t be productive in any sense. Instead he was just feeling all sorts of things.

He was so intent on wanting to learn every little bit of your life in the short time he had; he didn’t even hear Miles pop up behind him. 

“What are you doing?” Miguel startled so harshly that he almost fell out of the tree. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the young spider, “everything alright here?”

“What are you…why - nevermind,” Miguel knew better than to question what Miles was doing there, “don’t sneak up on people like that, Miles.”

“Sorry,” the boy didn’t sound sorry at all, “you’ve been gone for a while and this seemed pretty simple so I wanted to make sure that nothing had gone wrong.”

“It’s fine,” Miguel hissed and looked around surreptitiously to make sure you and this Miguel had disappeared from view, “I just got a little…distracted.”

“Distracted?” Miles repeated. That was odd…Miguel was always all business and no play. Something was definitely going on, “are you sure you’re alright?”

When Miguel didn’t respond Miles looked around to see what could have gotten the man so distracted. He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and wasn’t able to draw any meaningful conclusions. Miguel turned to the younger boy with reddened cheeks and wild eyes, “yes. Now go back and focus on your jobs. I’ll be back soon.”

“If you’re-”

“Positive,” Miguel narrowed his eyes in a glare, “just let me do my work.”

“Okay…” Miles didn’t want to go, but Miguel already seemed annoyed and he wasn’t going to push the issue, “see you later.”

“Goodbye Miles,” he watched him pointedly until Miles left again. Once the boy was gone, he groaned loudly and smacked his head against the tree. 

The worst part of all was that Miguel had now lost track of you. He huffed heavily…it looked like his personal espionage quest was finished for now. 

Even if he never saw you again, at least he would always have this memory of you. 

He just hoped that the you back in your world was willing to talk to him, despite how awful he had been. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What are you doing here?” your entire face fell as you looked at Miguel standing on your doorstep. You sighed heavily, and without waiting for an answer, started to close the door, but Miguel stopped you by lodging his foot in the door, “Miguel.”

“Don’t go,” he barked out, surprising both of you. His face warmed up as you opened and closed your mouth a few times. Your frown quickly returned and you crossed your arms over his chest, “I mean don’t…please don’t leave the team.”

“Give me one good reason,” you waited for an answer, but instead you were met with silence. You could tell that he was struggling with trying to say something but still you didn’t receive an answer. Scoffing, you tried to push him, “exactly. You don’t need me. Goodbye.”

“I don’t want you to go!” that caused you to stop in your tracks as your mouth dropped open. Miguel groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face at the sudden and seemingly unexpected confession. He waited for you to yell at him or something - anything. But instead you studied him intently. 

“Say it again,” your voice was less confident than you’d intended. You cringed internally but the expression on Miguel’s face made you feel slightly less awkward, “please?”

“I don’t want you to go,” he repeated softly, a small little half smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a nervous laugh, “you are Miguel.”

“And I’m sorry,” you hadn’t been expecting his first confession, and you definitely hadn’t been expecting an apology. Maybe you’d fallen into the wrong universe without knowing it, “so…yeah.”

“Are you going to kiss me or…?” you knew there was still a lot to go over but right now you really wanted this. You’d both been dancing around this for far too long. 

His hands found your face and he kissed you without hesitation. Apparently that was all he needed in order to finally make his move. It was almost embarrassing how often he thought about and wanted this. You hesitated for a moment before kissing him back and jumping into his arms, eager to have him all over you. 

He kissed like he did everything else - with purpose and his whole heart in it. It didn’t even phase you that you were making out in the middle of the hallway of your apartment building. Neither of you pulled apart until you were desperate for a breath of air. 

Miguel set you back down and the two of you exchanged shy, but happy smiles. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what exactly to say. He hadn’t thought this far - he definitely hadn’t thought he’d get to this point. 

“What changed your mind?” you asked quietly and his eyes widened in surprise at your question. Not that it was a weird question. 

“I’m not sure you’d believe it,” you couldn’t help but laugh at that before gesturing around and between yourselves.

“Miguel,” you dropped your voice so only the two of you could hear, “we have spider abilities and can travel between different universes. What could possibly that’s so crazy and I wouldn’t believe it?”

“You sure you want to hear it?”

“Duh.”

“That job I went on,” you huffed slightly because it was that very job that he’d forbidden you from going on, “I saw something.”

“Let me guess,” you had to hold back your giggles as you figured out exactly where this was going, “you found us and we happened to be married. Maybe with a kid?”

“H-how did you know?!”

“Because,” you opened the door and gestured for him to follow you inside, “in almost every universe I’ve gone to where we’re there we’ve been…together.”

“Oh,” his cheeks turned red as closed the door and leaned against it, “oh.”

“Oh,” you teased in return, “I wondered if you’d ever notice. You know what that means, right?”

“What does it mean?”

“I think it means you should kiss me,” there was a coquettish look on your face as he swallowed thickly, “unless you don’t want to?”

“I want to,” he stepped closer to you as you smiled up at him, “I really want to.”

“So do it.”

[cherrychilli]

Slip of the Tongue

A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers

Chapter one

Eddie Munson, AFAB reader, neighbor! reader.

Reader and Eddie are the same age - she's in College and he's repeating his senior year once again.

Chapter Summary: You discover that Eddie's been practicing a very interesting new trick on his guitar, one which he offers to use on you under the guise of giving you some much needed stress relief.

A/N: Listen, series scare the shit out of me but I'm trying to challenge myself with a tiny one. I kind of already feel like I'm biting off more than I can chew but I'm going to give it my best shot.

Inspired by those clips of Steve Vai and Jimi Hendrix. ifkyk.

Chapter warnings: Nothing explicit this chapter. Some suggestive stuff but the real smut begins next chapter, so if you want more you better let me know!

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He's doing it again. Of course he's doing it again.

You tilt your head forward, forehead dropping into your hands. Heatedly, you mutter your annoyance under your breath, thumbs rubbing at throbbing temples and eyes squeezing shut when the music picks up to an ear ringing volume.

Eddie Munson took sick pleasure in riling you up – you were certain of that given how he only ever seemed to plug in his guitar when it was time for you to study your coursework, wrecking your concentration and making your temper skyrocket with a kind of ease only he was capable of.

For years, you’d taken issue with the fact that your trailer neighbored his own, your bedroom becoming an echo chamber for every blaring chord progression and heavily distorted guitar riff that strummed out from Eddie's open window.

And as always, you felt the need to make your displeasure known.

Abandoning your textbooks, you hastily shove your shoes on to stomp over next door. You knew from painful experience that it was best to head behind the Munson’s trailer and approach Eddie’s bedroom window than to pound on the front door, the sound of his playing almost always too loud for him to notice your knocking.

Trampling over the patchy, dry lawn that lay between your homes, you made your way across, rounding the corner and striding up to the open window, fuming with thoughts of what you’d yell at him this time when you caught sight of the metalhead.

As expected, he's rocking out in the center of his unruly bedroom. No doubt having tuned the rest of the world out, channeling so much of his wild, boundless energy into his playing.

His mop of dark messy curls aren't tied back today, allowed to sway, tumble and whip around his face as he played to an audience of some devilish looking posters and a couple figurines that stood on his crowded desk, probably a part of that fantasy game he's always going on about.

He's dressed in grey sweats that hang low around his hips and a ratty old band tee that tended to ride up, you couldn't help but notice.

‘At least he’s got clothes on today’, you thought to yourself mirthlessly, only a touch thankful for the silver lining of not having to confront him while he's shirtless or in his boxers again. Not that he’d ever minded you seeing him like that before.

Your last encounter with Eddie was one you hoped to soon forget, cringing because he'd caught your gaze wandering when you came over to reprimand him for the noise again, becoming noticeably distracted by his bare chest and the tattoos adorning it.

You don't know how it happened, only that you fell into a sort of daze when your eyes slipped lower to follow the slope of his pale tummy, leading to the sparse trail of dark hair which thickened below his belly button and disappeared underneath the waistband of his boxers.

D'you want a picture or something, darling?, he'd quipped, growing even more pleased with himself when your face turned hot and the embarrassment of getting caught had you stuttering out the first thing you could manage.

"F-fuck off, Munson", you spit back and retreated awkwardly, the sound of his barking laughter as you did so ringing in your ears long after you made it back into your room and hid underneath your blankets for a good hour.

Yeah, that was hard to live down. As was trying to expunge the image of Eddie's unclothed torso from your mind.

Most times he could anticipate your arrival, like a lightning storm only he could forecast but this time he hasn’t seemed to noticed you yet, tongue pinched between his lips in concentration while his fingers travelled skillfully over the ebony fretboard of his guitar.

Watching him play like that sometimes made you think that if he hadn't plagued you for half your life with all of his antics, you might have admitted that he was good musician - that he had talent most people didn't care to acknowledge and maybe even go so far as to say that you found it impressive that he’d managed teach himself how to play in lieu of any lessons.

But you weren’t about to sing Eddie Munson's praises. Not when he was seconds away from making you pop a vein.

Taking a deep breath in, you prepared yourself to start the unpleasant cycle of bickering with your neighbor once again, hoping against hope that, at the very least, it'll be a short exchange this time.

“Ed-"

You meant to catch his attention with a single shout but the heated call flattens on your tongue in an instant, heart beat kicking up as you watch what he does next.

He lifts his treasured Warlock and you're half afraid for him when he casually flips the front of the instrument towards his face, its angular design and jagged edges enough to worry you even when he played on it the regular way.

But it's when his tongue stretches out, long and slick like a serpent, that things start to feel...hazy. Speechlessly, you stare as he slides it along one of the guitar's six strings, following the length of it from near the bottom of the fretboard while his left hand continued to flit over the strings by the neck, creating harmonics in a way you’d never thought was possible before.

Are my palms sweating?

The sound begins to shift again and your eyes bulge when he slides his tongue back down, flicking and picking the guitar strings by the tip of it with more speed and dexterity than you'd thought was possible, his fingers continuing to move seamlessly to hold down every note.

Eyes closed (and there was no chance of you letting that happen) there was no way you could've told the difference than if he’d been playing with his fingers all along, the sound just as sharp and crisp as as every time before.

It's filthy, bordering on vulgar the way he’s moving the silky pink muscle so expertly, so much so that it makes you feel like you're intruding, peeping in on something that only happened behind closed doors.

But that gnawing feeling isn't anywhere near enough to make you stop looking. Your gaze stays planted firmly on Eddie's mouth, the sight making your head crowd with static and your belly swirl with heat. Your thighs had been clamped together too, you realize, a sickening realization dawning over you when they rub together, registering the dampness pooling between them underneath your skirt.

Oh my god…am I w-?

And just as abruptly as the realization had sunk in, the song ends. Deafening silence returns to your shared corner of the trailer park when Eddie sets the guitar back down to hang by the strap fixed over his shoulder, eyes flicking to you as if he'd known all along that you'd been standing there, gawking at him.

"So, what do you think? pretty good, right? been working on it for weeks", he pants out, chest rising and falling softly with each labored breath.

Somehow, this feels so much worse than when he caught you staring the last time.

With luck, you're able to shake yourself out of your trance like state, round eyes narrowing in preparation to berate him as originally intended

"Fucking hell, Eddie would you keep it down? I'm trying to study!", you agonize, scrambling to find your fury again.

But your tone doesn’t seem to bother him, it rarely ever did. So he leans through the open window, elbows resting on the window pane, eyeing you up and down all amused.

"You look stressed", he observes, and it's the flippant way in which he does it that ticks you off, with the kind of lopsided smile you’d often described as annoying. For the most part because he’d almost always done something to that effect before flashing you one.

"I am", you confirm with an acidic glare, hoping he couldn't tell how frazzled his little performance had left you.

"And you're not helping so knock it off"

Turning on your heel, you're desperate to retreat back to your place for a reprieve, heart hammering inside your chest when he calls out to you again.

"I could help you relax, y'know"

The way he says it makes you pause, like he's about to let you in on a secret.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps. "I'm not buying weed from you Eddie", you answer back over your shoulder, trying to look unimpressed as you attempt to turn him down.

"I wouldn't charge", the boy winks at you without missing a beat, undeterred by your cold attitude and you hate that his persistence makes your face feel hot.

"But that's not what I was going to suggest"

"Oh?"

You turn around to face him again, intrigue building.

He takes a moment to scan you thoughtfully, brows furrowing, almost as if he's weighing the outcomes of what might happen if he were to continue.

"You liked what you saw, right?", his brown eyes flicked down to his guitar and back up to you in quick reference to what you were hoping to avoid.

The mention of what you'd witnessed him doing with his tongue brings that hot, sticky feeling sitting at the base of your stomach back in full force, alarm bells ringing in your head.

"What does that have to do with anything?", you ask cautiously, realizing a second too late that you’ve only confirmed his suspicion.

"Well..."

Eddie curls a finger up at you, rings glinting in the sunlight, beckoning you closer and for some reason you actually oblige, stepping up to his window until you’re only a foot apart from one another.

Low and throaty, he whispers to you. "I can do a lot more with my tongue than just shred on my guitar", flicking the muscle salaciously between his lips like a viper ready to strike.

It should revolt you, watching the crude gesture courtesy of the bane next door, the implication behind it enough to make your skin crawl.

So why doesn't it?

Why does it make you want to leap at him and close the distance between the two of you, hungry to feel his tongue against your own?

"You're disgusting", you tell him instead in an attempt to deflect, voice wavering through the lie.

But he's too astute to be fooled now. "And you like it", he counters easily.

"So are you going to cut the bullshit and climb in here or what?"

You stare at the hand he holds out to you and before you can think to just walk away, before you can pull yourself together and stifle the roaring fire inside lapping at your bones, your fingers have found their way to his.