#i just think he was a jerk and needs to be called out on it

[classyrbf]

the jjk men toying with you while you’re all tied up and can’t do a thing about it. You’re squirming and whimpering, your entire body hot with lust and desire while nanami plays with your pussy. He’s swiping his fingers through your slick folds, spreading it open for all the other men to look at and gawk over, their cocks evidently hard in their pants. He’s teasing your clit, gently tapping on it with his finger just enough to make you whine and beg. You’re leaking all over the sheets. “Look at her, she wants to get fucked so bad,” sukuna says.

By this time they’re all jerking their cocks, clothes completely discarded. “Such cute nipples baby, they’re so hard,” says geto, reaching his hand out to grope your tits and tweak your nipples between his fingers. Gojo was recording the entire thing, getting a close up on your teary face as they all tease and laugh at you for being such a desperate slut. He moves the camera down towards your pussy, nanami till toying with you, slowly inserting his fingers over and over, and “accidentally” rubbing over your throbbing clit. You try and fight against your restraints, whimpering when you realize it’s no use.

“Poor thing. I think she’s about ready to take every load. Is that what you need? Say it.” Toji stroked his dick in front of your face, smirking at your pleading eyes.

“Please, please, I need your cum. I need your cocks,” you say barely above a whisper, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“You think you can take all of us, huh? Needy slut, aren’t you?” Sukuna lets out a chuckle, biting down on his bottom lip. “Untie her. You’re gonna ride this dick and show us how bad you want it.” He stares at you. Just the thought of it made your pussy clench around nanami’s fingers.

“I call next. I wanna see what this mouth can do.” Toji rubs his thumb over your lips before slipping it into your mouth to suck on, smiling at your eagerness.

“Mmmm,” gojo hums, “hey, baby? You ever take it up the ass before? Would be a shame if we didn’t try it, don’t you think?“ You nod yes to his question without hesitation.

“Good girl. As a treat, I’ll eat your pussy until you cry,” nanami chimes in, rubbing at your clit.

“Get ready to be fucking filled, sweetheart. I don’t wanna hear any complaints.” Geto pinches your nipple, making you jolt. As much as you’re scared you’re also equally turned on and excited. You’re about to have the time of your life.

[frannyzooey]

You don’t have to actually write anything but I need to share a thot, I’m looking at that smut prompt list and thinking okay 6 (marathon sex) is definitely Joel and Honey pre-June

Like I know some days they were just bored af in that cabin like there’s only so many chores to do, so many books to read like I just know there were days where they lay in bed all day and fucked. like I’m thinking right after they started sleeping together and one day they suddenly have a bunch of free time and then they’re just doing it in every single position and Joel is still pulling out every time but there are some close calls 👀

Once again I wish I was Honey 😩

Dawn breaking through the curtains; a languid roll of his hips between your thighs. Light filling the room; his parted lips a humid pant against yours. His rounded back, his strained groan when he jerks hot along the sheets.

--

The stifling heat of the early afternoon; your thighs burning in their straddle on his lap. The humid press of the air; the slick slide of your skin against his. Your arched back, your whine when he grabs your hips to pump up from below.

--

The lazy daze of the late afternoon; his fist wrapped around the nape of your neck. Nothing but time; his hips pounding into your ass.

--

Twilight; his cock sliding out of your spit-slick mouth. Shadows forming around everything; the rapid sound of his fist pumping, pumping, pumping. The carpet digging into your knees, the hot splash of his cum on your chest.

--

Thick, impenetrable darkness without the light of candles; his shoulders underneath your knees. The gentle lap of the river; the worshiping slide of his tongue. The tremble of your thighs along his cheeks, the way you cry out his name into the crook of your elbow.

--

The curl of your naked bodies around each other, spent and sated.

[lazysoulwriter]

hate to want you - harry styles.

requests are open! ♡

----

The party is already in full swing when you walk in, the bass thrumming through the floors like the heartbeat of the city itself. You’re not exactly in the mood for this—a crowded LA house party filled with people who think they’re more important than they actually are. But your best friend insisted, and now here you are, regretting every step that brought you to this moment.

And then you see him.

Harry Styles.

Leaning lazily against the marble countertop, sipping something dark from a crystal glass, looking like he owns the place. He probably does. His loose shirt is unbuttoned just enough to be infuriating, and his rings glint under the dim lights as he runs a hand through his stupidly perfect hair.

"You’re staring," your best friend whispers, barely hiding a smirk.

"Not staring," you mutter, dragging your gaze away. "Judging."

And you have every right to. Because the last time you met—if you could even call it that—he had been an absolute jerk.

It was a charity event. Fancy. Pretentious. And Harry, in all his rockstar glory, had made some offhanded, arrogant comment about how "this isn’t really your scene, is it?" Like you were some lost little girl who didn’t belong. You snapped back, obviously, because you weren’t about to let him talk down to you. But he just smirked, like your annoyance was some kind of entertainment for him.

So yeah. You’re not his biggest fan.

And just as you’re considering slipping out before he notices you—

"Well, well," a smooth, British drawl cuts through the air. "Look who decided to show up."

You turn, finding Harry standing in front of you, that smirk still annoyingly plastered on his face.

"Shame," you deadpan. "I was hoping to make it through the night without seeing your smug face."

His eyebrows shoot up in mock offense. "Ouch. That hurts, love."

"I doubt it."

He tilts his head, eyes flickering over you in a way that feels too assessing. "You always this hostile, or is it just for me?"

"Only for people who deserve it."

Harry chuckles, taking another sip of his drink. "Y'know, I don’t get this reaction often."

"Shocking," you say, completely expressionless.

He grins. "You’re feisty."

"And you’re insufferable."

There’s a beat of silence. And then—he laughs. Not just a polite chuckle, but a real, full-bodied laugh like he wasn’t expecting you to actually fight back.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heel, heading toward the kitchen for a drink. You need one after that encounter. But before you can get too far, you hear him call after you—

"Y’know, love, the more you act like you hate me, the more I think you actually fancy me."

You don’t even grace that with a response.

Two hours later.

You’re having a great time—without him.

You found a group of people actually worth talking to, and for the last thirty minutes, you’ve been laughing and sipping your drink, fully invested in some ridiculous conversation about the worst tattoos everyone has ever seen.

That is, until you catch him watching you.

From across the room, Harry is leaning against a wall, arms crossed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he studies you. His usual cocky expression is nowhere to be found. Instead, he looks… annoyed?

Good.

You turn your back to him and keep talking. But the feeling of his gaze never leaves you.

Five minutes later, a shadow appears at your side.

"You’re ignoring me."

You sigh, not bothering to turn. "I thought you were smart enough to take a hint."

Harry moves closer, and suddenly, you can smell him—something warm and expensive and way too intoxicating.

"Didn’t know ignoring me meant flirting with that bloke over there," he mutters.

You blink. Then turn to him, eyebrows raised. "Oh my God," you whisper, like you just discovered something groundbreaking. "You’re jealous."

Harry scoffs, but the way his jaw clenches gives him away.

"Jealous of some random guy? Hardly," he says, but it isn’t convincing.

You smirk. "I think you are."

Harry huffs, dragging a hand down his face. "Alright, fine. Maybe I am. Happy?"

Your smirk grows. "Ecstatic."

And then, something unexpected happens.

Harry—the Harry Styles—takes a step closer, the air between you buzzing with something electric.

"Look," he sighs, voice lower now. "I was an arse when we met, yeah? I didn’t mean to be. I just—" He pauses, tilting his head as his gaze flickers over your face. "I didn’t think you’d be this much fun to piss off."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

A slow grin spreads across his lips. "I like winding you up. It’s fun. Dangerous, but fun."

You fold your arms, giving him a look. "So, what exactly do you want, Harry?"

His smirk fades, something else flickering in his eyes now—something heady, something that makes your stomach flip. He leans in, so close that his breath ghosts over your lips, and murmurs,

"Kiss you."

Your breath catches.

It’s stupid. It’s so stupid.

But he’s looking at you like you’re something he needs. And you should push him away, you really should—

Except you don’t.

You barely have time to process it before his lips crash into yours, the kiss hot and needy and so much better than it has any right to be. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the way he groans against your mouth.

You hate him. You really, truly hate him.

But right now, with his lips on yours, you don’t care at all.

[yandere-sins]

Ooh okay I apologize in advance for rambling but how about a yandere and a darling who are both trained fighters of some sort. Always at each other's throats, evenly matched. Despite the yandere's flirtatious behavior during fights, the darling doesn't put much stock in it because some people are just... like that lol. But they finally lose. Collapsed on the ground, arms and fingers twitching as they try to muster the energy to grab their weapon. They think they might be about to die, but the yan is absolutely giddy with excitement, telling them how well they did, how much fun they've been having and not to feel bad. They'll take care of them until they get better- and maybe they'll even let them fight again if they're good while they recover.

Thanks for the cute idea! I hope I was able to convey it like you were thinking ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Not everyone has the chance in life to call someone else their "arch-nemesis". But you did. That jerk that was always on your butt, chasing after your achievements as if it was an Olympic sport. If you did great on an assignment, so did he. If you did extra reps while training, he had to do them twice as much. You wanted to spar? He'd be the one volunteering to be your training partner.

He was insufferable.

With that bright, goofy smile and the happy hops he did after being chosen as your sparing partner (not your fault you were too good so that most of the other people in the unit didn't want to try fighting you), he was absolutely obnoxious. He was swift on his feet, that much you had to give him, but his swings were too wide, easily to avoid. And you, stupidly nice as you were, told him that many times, and he still didn't learn. He was your personal pain in the asshole, and you sighed in frustration as you watched him plummet to the ground after you swept his leg.

Only for him to recover quickly and bring you down, too.

In a matter of seconds, your enemy was on top of you, holding you down and rendering you immobile. You struggled, groaning from the strain when you managed to free your foot, kicking your leg up and into his stomach. Just as quickly as he had, you had rolled both of you over, straddling him down. However, in stark contrast to him, you learned from your mistake, applying all the right weight to hold down all his limbs.

You two were breathing heavily when you noticed the otherwise silent gym. Only the hand-to-hand combat mat was still lit up, everything else already in the dark. You couldn't spend too much thought on it as your enemy kept struggling, trying to free himself before he finally breathed out the tension of his body, groaning, "I give up!"

Immediately, you got off him, standing back up and wiping the sweat from your face. Both of you needed a minute to calm your pulse, and you noticed that you had been right; everybody had left you two. Wasn't it too early for them to stop their training, though? The clock on the wall revealed the time to already be late in the night, and you groaned inwardly, realizing you had spent all evening again with that jerk.

He really brought out the worst traits in you.

"Ah, fuck," you mumbled, remembering the fresh ingredients you had bought to make for dinner tonight. Another spoiled meal just because you had to wrestle with that idiot.

"That was awesome!" he cheered behind you, still lying on the ground, staring straight into the ceiling light above him. "Nothing can beat our fight! You are so amazing!"

With that, he rolled to the side, propping his head on his hand as he grinned at you, eyebrows wiggling. "Imagine how good the sex would be."

With a disgusted sound, you rolled your eyes, knowing about his repertoire of dirty and inappropriate jokes much too well. There was no rule against peer relationships, but even if you had to, he would be the last you'd choose as a partner. "I'll pass," you snarked, and he laughed loudly as if you had just told a funny joke.

"Come on, let's do one more round!" your enemy prompted, jumping up from the mat and bouncing over to you like a ball. He was just like that, so full of energy and life, no matter how many times you threw him down. You two never had to work on an assignment together before. Still, you couldn't imagine him taking anything seriously or putting actual work into what he was assigned to do with his attitude.

But it was already late, and instead of a lavish meal, you'd probably just have some instant noodles instead. Might as well try to break his ego once more. "Okay," you agreed, fastening the straps of your gloves again.

"Yippih!" he exclaimed, and if you weren't so done with the dude, it was almost adorable how excited he was. You got caught up in his carefree demeanor momentarily when he suddenly threw a punch you barely dodged. You hadn't seen it coming at all, perplexed for a moment that he could pull off something like that.

"Did that surprise you? I trained just for you! Just so I could beat you!"

"You psycho," you chided him, but your heart beat wildly after the unexpected blow. You could still feel the rubber burn on your skin where it had connected with his gloved hand, making you gulp.

"Hah! Try dodging this!"

What followed was a serious showdown of skill, every punch harder to dodge and block than the one before. You still felt powerful enough to win this fight, but you had never noticed this skill in him before. He fought like a kangaroo but lighter on his feet, avoiding the few stray punches you sent his way easily. Had he waited for a chance to show off? What made this day so special?

You two rang for the upper hand in this—supposedly training—fight, but you slowly realized that without a real chance to counterattack, none of your skills would help you. Your enemy didn't fall for the classical sweep with the leg and didn't stay still long enough to keep himself open for a hit in the stomach, followed by a flurry of punches to bring him down. For the first time since you two met, you felt actually threatened by him as an opponent.

Before, you had mostly ignored him. His overeager attitude, continuous unwanted flirting, and the way he tried to insert himself into your life almost desperately. He wanted to be noticed by you, so you didn't give him the time of day until you two had passed your training and had to deal with each other, no matter what you thought about him. But it got annoying quickly, and your spats became the entertainment for the whole unit. You didn't mind shutting him up in a match, but somehow, this one was different than all the other fights you had before.

You had never lost a fight before until that night.

Your head hit the mat with more force than you ever thought possible. It actually made you blackout for a moment. Luckily, you came to quickly, only to be confronted by the pain and dizziness you felt. But there was no time to regain your composure as a hand hit the mat right next to your face, and you heard the cracking of bones as the air hit you like a much more gentle punch.

"I won," he panted, the smile slowly spreading wider and wider on his face as he hovered above you. "I finally did it!"

"Get over yourself," you heaved dryly, your lungs utterly void of air. More and more pains erupted in your body, on the outside of your forearms, face, shoulder, and hips. You groaned as your muscles spasmed, drawing in to relieve the pain. But in doing so, they caused another body part to hurt, and an endless cycle of bruises and wounds occurred.

But the second his palm cupped your face, you stilled, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered as if he was afraid that a loud sound would shatter you. "Your lips swollen like that, all because of me."

Your enemy giggled, and you felt appalled by the gleam in his eyes as he watched you flinch from his touch. Something was seriously wrong with that fellow, you had always known it. "Just get off," you complained, turning your head away and struggling to get up with your bashed body.

"Might want to have a look at your hand, too. That crack didn't sound healthy."

However, his hand quickly grabbed your shoulder, pushing you back down with much more strength than required. For what felt like a small eternity condensed in a few seconds, you two stared motionlessly at each other. You, trying to understand something about him which was nearly impossible. And he, interpreting this situation much differently than you.

Because the next thing you knew, his lips crushed yours, enticing a pained howl to erupt from your throat and crashing into his mouth. Lips open, he pushed his tongue in, a suffocating feeling as it roamed around, spit mingling. Finally, you had enough, forcing your body to obey as you grabbed him by the shirt, pushing him back and away from you.

"What is wrong with you!" you gasped, disgusted by the kiss you had just been assaulted with.

"That was so much fun, oh my god," your enemy merely replied, not even honoring you with an answer. "You're such a good fighter, I can't believe I finally won! Isn't that feeling amazing? My heart is racing! How about yours?"

"No!" you declared firmly, struggling against him as you tried to get out from under his body. It was a tangled mess of limbs, your struggles continuously bouncing back as he wanted to keep you as you were. You really didn't understand him, resorting to a tirade of insults as he canceled out your efforts.

"Look at you go! You still have so much energy even after our sparring. As if it was nothing for you! I know you were the one for me! The only one who can keep me on my toes! It's always been you!"

"I'm not yours! Get off me, you freak!"

"Well, ouch. That's enough."

Your breath was caught in your throat as your head hit the mat again for the second time that night. For the very first time when fighting him, however, you felt a hint of panic as he applied more and more strength to your wrists, pinning you down. Just minutes before, you had been able to slip out easily, making him lose in a matter of milliseconds. But this time, his grip and position were iron-tight, leaving no room for a surprise to overtake him.

"You're already hurt enough, baby. We can have another go once you recover."

"If you could just get off me, I could take care of my wounds myself, baby," you spat right back in his face. But instead of noticing the sarcasm in your voice, he only grinned wider, shaking his head as he laughed softly.

"Now, why would you do that? That's what you have me for. I'll make sure you get taken care of. Gonna patch you up real good, my little fighter."

"He- Hey!" you protested as he suddenly stood up, too quickly for you to react. Next thing you knew, you, too, were back on your feet and lifted into the air, slung over your enemy's shoulder. He had pulled you up so swiftly that not even the air could give any resistance, but you two needed a moment to balance it out before you were right back to kicking and punching him.

"Now, be good," he warned you before a slap on your butt made you stop all movements, too surprised and shocked that he'd dare to make such an inappropriate gesture with you.

"We can see if you get to fight again once you're fully healed. Until then, you got to be good for me, alright?"

"We'll do no such thing! Who do you think you are--"

"It's not about me," your enemy suddenly revealed, and you raised a brow, looking at the back of his head with more questions that were left unanswered than you wanted them to. Everything about this was wrong; what the hell happened to him that night? Did you push the wrong buttons for once? But that still didn't explain his behavior in the slightest.

"It never has."

"Then what is it about?" you asked, trying to kick him again, only for your leg to be captured by his free hand, thigh pressing against his chest while his palm massaged the tense muscles on the back. He was completely out of his mind if he thought he could just take you as a prize for winning one puny training match! As if you needed him to patch up the wounds he inflicted! That was definitely not the kind of relationship you two had, one where he could disregard every bit of manners he had and do what he wanted!

"You," he replied firmly, his voice unwavering.

"It has always been about you."

[identityua]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

BAKING WITH IDV CHARACTERS

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

PAIRINGS: Norton Campbell, Luca Balsa, Victor Grantz & Melly Plinius x GN! Reader (separately)

WARNINGS: Mentions of Norton going through stuff in his lore, Luca’s “fun” time in prison... that's about it.

Send in requests and submissions, It gets boring during breaks in uni:,)

N. CAMPBELL

As seen from the breakfast scene with a rightfully baffled Journalist -- whole grain bread for him is a delicacy. Safe to assume Norton is not just a peasant, he is dirt poor. So poor in fact, he wouldn't be able to afford a popular at the time drink called "Saloop" not even with a tea bag found in the trash pile. That drink can be made even by street beggars, by the way.

Keeping that in mind there is no way he knows how to go about it and what to do. Cooking? That's a different topic. Norton had to take care of his sick family while breaking his back with exploitative labour in the mines. He's got the emergency level of skill for preparing a stew.

Despite the era-specific sexism, he wouldn't be the one for writing kitchen-related work off as "not a man's job". He may be insecure but Norton is not a jerk... at least not in that way. That said, baking is definitely something he sees as an activity for the privileged. Read as anyone with a spare penny in their pocket.

Don't overwhelm him with something fancy like a cheesecake or lord forbid a croquembouche. He wants to experience the rich lifestyle, for sure, but imagine introducing sugar so early on to his virgin taste buds... not a good outcome. Bread might be a good place to start.

Say, one day you approach Norton with a wonderful proposal to bake something together. "What a wonderful bonding experience for couples!" you might think, leading him by the hand into the manor's well equipped kitchen.

Wrong.

For some incomprehensible reason (trying to impress you and compensate for his inferiority complex) Norton all of a sudden decided he is Gordon Ramsay. With a whisk in hand (holding it upside down) and a determined look, he goes into battle. He doesn't need help, Norton never needs help. He is a provider, he's strong, what's a little baking to him?

Reassure this man for the mental health of all the kitchen staff to put the eggs down and to let you help out. He might scoff, argue, complain -- don't take it personally. Norton is a complicated guy though I am sure you know that by now. He does too. Emotional intelligence is not really in the cards here (try to develop some by breathing in coal dust since you were a kid) so he can’t put a finger why he is so upset.

He wants to be vulnerable with you, sure, but there is a blockage. Call it disorganised attachment, inability to regulate emotions, trust issues – whatever it is, it is there. Norton knows he is an inadequate partner and is set on the idea that you deserve better. You’ll need an immense amount of patience even with small tasks like these (hey, you chose this battle not me), however the reward is worth it. A glimpse into a playful man you fell in love with – who smears flour on your nose while you are distracted.

Now, Norton wholeheartedly believes he is someone for tough love. Kisses, hugs, cuddles – that’s all for the “sleazy gentlemen” not a seasoned miner like him. Don’t remind him of the way he curls up by your side like a cat with the mirthiest of grins the moment It’s lights-out in the manor. Norton’s got a reputation to uphold. He tries to convince himself of that by not really providing much closeness during your baking session, other than an occasional ruffle of your hair or a shoulder bump.

Oh how quickly things change If someone else walks in. Anyone is a rival in his eyes. Your friend wanted to greet you and give you a sweet hug? Excuse him, your man’s got a sudden velcro strap attached between you and him. One of the most jealous people on Earth because of his insecurities, so he feels the immediate need to establish his dominance here. How? Nasty glances in the intruder’s direction and pulling you into an impromptu make out session. That’s how he saw his coworkers treat their partners so he assumes this must be the way.

Maybe set some boundaries about that. Or not. I don’t know what you are into…

It might take longer than usual (your lips might be bruise as well) but the two of you will end up baking a nice, fluffy loaf of bread. He will claim that “Of course It’s great, I made it after all!” but somewhere deep inside his chest is squeezing with affection. Norton is not stupid, he can read between the lines and figure out that you know of his weaknesses. Usually, that thought would keep him up at night and gnaw at him until he pushed you far away. So far you would never see him the same way those “coworkers” did when beating the money out of his clenched fists.

However doing something so simple and new with you without judgement – It’s about the only kind of love he can stomach. Pun intended. He’ll eat like half of the bread with no bev, please make sure he doesn’t choke.

L. BALSA

My knowledge of him is minimal but I’ll take a crack at this.

Unlike Campbell, this one grew up in wealth. Fancy balls with those puffy gowns and tuxedos, golden leafed ice cream, all the lovely things that come from an obscene amount of pretty banknotes. You’d think your sweet Luca would surely know how to make some scones? Now why would you ever think that. Of course he doesn’t.

Three causes: he never lifted a finger to cook for himself, he is a man in the Renaissance period(I think) and he simply forgot how to. Memory loss does that. The triple knockout to your proposition. No, thank you, Balsa would rather stick to his inventions. After all, he is utterly and completely obsessed with the technology he builds.

At times like this, you start to think he doesn’t truly care for you at all. What’s the point of trying If some metal bits come before you? Stop, take a breath, and reconsider. Remember the times he would writhe on your shared bed in agony due to his traumatic brain injury. Recall the way Luca would grasp onto you in these vulnerable moments. Just think, would he show the weakest side of himself to you If there wasn’t a deep connection between the two of you?

Unfortunately, you cannot expect a “normal” relationship with this guy. But again, you did sign up for this. So, expect him not to even acknowledge you for the first time you ask to bake together. He is completely entranced with the wires in front of him, fixated on the electricity currents. Sure, Luca will be grumpy when you interrupt his “flow” to ask again but truthfully – It is hard for Balsa to stay mad at you. He will reject like I said beforehand, however here’s the twist.

This little genius will never reject the notion of spending time with you. His love language may be physical touch, words of affirmation, but quality time takes the cake. Pun intended. After spending so much time wrongfully (?) imprisoned, he craves human connection. Human connection that doesn’t involve him being tortured by either the guards or other inmates. Balsa is also terrified of betrayal so he wants to be beside you 24/7. Just in case.

Being at the manor is stressful and traumatic for all participants, so his coping mechanism is to drown in work. Forgive him for that, Luca loves you for all you do and your unwavering support. Therefore, he will propose a diplomatic compromise. You get to bake while he sits at the kitchen table and tinkers with some new device. Deal?

Go ahead and mix the ingridients with your leg propped over his, Luca will appreciate it wholeheartedly. Unfortunately no holding hands before marriage, or simply because it would get in the way of his and your working space. Sure, maybe you don’t get to cuddle by the stove like they do in romantic novellas. But isn’t this so much better, because it is uniquely your lover?

While the pastries bake take a moment to cradle the side of the “Prisoner’s” face in your flour-powered hand. Gently run your thumb over his cheekbone. He will subconsciously lean into your touch without missing a beat. That is just how much Luca Balsa trusts you – his partner. After everything he’s gone through It’s an indicator as bright as a red stop light of the depth of this inventor’s feelings. He doesn’t exactly state it out loud in favour of letting you know that “everyone wants a piece of this handsome genius”. However, It’s obvious to anyone else that you are his sole anchor and reason to live.

You remind him to eat, take a breather, bring him relaxing tea just the way he likes it. You ground him when Luca’s hands shake from the painful memories of the past, you hold him, you console him. In return? He will keep on working, playing this hellish game and at a whim will relocate all of his heavy equipment across the manor to the kitchen – If it means you are happy. Balsa is a dreamer, and he dreams of a future where you are together in your own house, baking in the kitchen with all the fancy equipment you might ever need. Made by him, of course.

Over freshly baked sweets and a cup of tea, your lover will share all of his ambitious ideas running through his mind. He will also take note of the taste in his mouth and urge you to write down the recipe on some paper for him. Why, you might ask? A reminder of the future he wants to build with you to keep in a diary, since it has proven to be much more reliable than his own mind. Luca is dedicated to you just as much as he is to scientific discoveries after all.

V. GRANTZ

Holy yap incoming! This one is my favourite man from the survivor faction.

Can Victor cook? Silly question. Having spent most of his adolescence without much parental support or much human contact – he is highly independent. The Postman is responsible to a T, capable of performing all the housework necessary for survival. Can your lover bake? That’s a different topic in Its entirety.

From his deduction letter It is known that he shares his meals with Wick. Therefore, Victor’s food must be something that a dog can digest. Carbs and starchy foods are not ideal for his little carnivorous friend which leads us to the conclusion that baking is not your partner’s forte.

Out of all characters in this post – he is the hardest to get through to. Come on, Victor is as talkative as a wooden plank. You thought Norton was avoidant? Think again, mister postman here will fight tooth and nail to keep people away from him. So, what happens when you through sheer patience and understanding manage to become his friend? And later on, Victor’s partner? He will never say no to you.

Bake together? For the love of everything, Victor would run into a burning building after you. That’s just who he is – utterly self sacrificing and endlessly brave. The point is, it doesn’t matter what Grantz was doing before you approached him with the wonderful proposition to bake. He will drop everything and promptly nod, following you with Wick at his heel to the kitchen.

Choose a recipe that is dog-friendly beforehand. It would make both of your boys happy. Did I mention that you became Wick’s co-parent the moment his human friend opened up his heart to you? Now you know.

Make sure to properly compliment your postman every time he does something well, like mixing the wet ingredients together at just the perfect speed. Watch as warmth blossoms across his face and your partner faintly nods, muttering a “thank you” with the brightest of smiles. His love language is without a doubt words of affirmation, considering how much linguistics matter to him.

With anyone else, he would take face-to-face conversations with a massive brick of salt. Victor doesn’t trust people not to conceal their intentions, only ever being truthful in letters. With you, It’s different. He knows your pattern of speech does not differ from your writing abilities. You wouldn’t lie to your love, would you? So Grantz has no reason to doubt your praises even If he feels undeserving of them.

Much more playful than others in the manor give him credit for. Victor is not “shy” he is simply reserved and prefers to keep to himself unless in trusted company. He literally voices his dog’s side of the “conversation” don’t be quick to assume your partner can’t have fun. Prepare for harmless tickles and nose flicks, this guy is sweeter than the pastries you two are preparing.

Unfortunately this vulnerability is only available for you to see. The moment someone else enters the kitchen, Victor is social distancing and keeping his eyes down on the baking tray. He’ll let you handle the talking part, occasionally sharing looks with Wick as If saying “Can you believe this?”. He’ll get a “woof” in response from his four-legged friend, which is up to interpretation.

Don’t let your gaze linger a beat too long on the person (without reassuring Victor afterwards) otherwise his train of thought is actively de-railing. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, of course not, your sweet postman just… thinks you can do better than him. So many options out there for someone as wonderful as you, why stick around him? That’s it, time for Grantz to overthink.

In no way would he pull you away from the conversation, at least not the same way Norton would. As your lover, he respects your decisions and relationships. Just don’t mind the slow slide towards your side of the table and the hand lingering over your fingertips. Squeeze his hand back, and we’re all good, you can carry on.

Regardless of whether someone interrupts your baking session or not, It is an incredibly enjoyable experience. The recipe will be followed to a T, you can count on your partner to take on that responsibility. If you pay close attention, you’ll notice how Victor attempts to plate the “worst” ones for himself. The pastries with uneven edges or a burnt bottom cannot be offered to you in his good conscience.

Make sure those are evenly split between the two of you, feeding your protesting lover a perfectly done piece. The postman will be so flustered at the gesture of you feeding him in public, he’ll forget completely what he was protesting about in the first place.

M. PLINIUS

This one right here. She is the perfect choice for baking together. I don’t know how you managed to bag someone as incredible as Melly but props to you.

Having grown up in poverty and later on married into wealth, she knows how to do it all. Cooking, cleaning, reading, baking – you name it, Miss Melly can probably do it. She has a slight preference for sweets as well, considering her breakfast choices and the fact that she keeps bees. Entomology is quite rewarding when you get to snack on honey from your test subjects.

I imagine It’s quite easy to find your lover busying herself in the manor’s greenhouse, slouched over another specimen of… whatever she is studying. Your proposal brings an immediate quirk to her lips which curl upwards in sheer delight. Melly is quick to offer some freshly collected honey as a healthier alternative to sugar. Of course, your heath is her priority, but getting to show off the efforts of her bees is a nice bonus.

She doesn’t necessarily rush to the oven though, unlike a certain postman… no. Melly has to finish up her tasks and tidy her working space first. Offer some help to make the time go by faster! She’ll be appreciative of your thoughtfulness and follow you to the kitchen – elbows interlocked.

Record-fast preparation for your batch of goods. She’s efficient, adaptable and co-operates well with your actions. Out of everyone mentioned in this post, a relationship with her is the healthiest – and it shows. You two are in-sync with each other, practically gliding across the kitchen like two swans on a pond’s surface. You do know swans bond for life, right?

Miss Entomologist is the epitome of elegance in everything: from thoughtfully brushing your hair out of the way – to whisking the egg whites to reach a perfect fluffy consistency. It’s not hard to tell how much she adores you, her love, her little bug. While reserved, she does not shy away from showcasing affection towards you. Expect the unexpected wrap of her arms around your waist as she whispers compliments through her veil. Don’t spill the batter now!

Quality time and acts of service are her strong suit when it comes to loving, so baking is the perfect way to showcase affection. She is understandably disappointed If someone was to interrupt your bonding time and snatch you away for a chat. It’s hard to notice, but you know her – the slightest tug of her lips downwards. You can only guess the look in her eyes under that veil, that only you ever get to see. Those are the fruits of Melly’s trust you get to reap.

Don’t take it the wrong way, she isn’t jealous in the slightest of your interaction. No, this lady is secure in her attachment and her trust in her lover. Does she appreciate that you cannot decorate the scones along with her because someone was itching to talk? That’s a different question.

If this certain someone was taking way too long than appropriate, then, she would gracefully insert herself in the conversation and ask them to leave. Politely, of course. This woman has a way with words and it is attractive to no end.

Once the delicious treat is served, settle into the secluded garden chairs along with her and a cup of steaming tea. She would spot a butterfly on top of a chrysanthemum and erupt into a passionate rant about this specific one’s traits. The lifespan, the importance to the environment. Please, make sure you listen carefully to this monologue. In moments like these your lover’s soul is bare to the touch. Handle it well.

Melly conceals her face specifically because she wants to be perceived for her intelligence – not her (stunning) appearance. However here, in the manor’s garden along with her most precious beloved, a honeyed scone in hand… it is no grave matter If her veils is lifted by the wind. She won’t rush to pin it down. Instead, you will get to see a sight reserved only for you – Melly’s affectionate eyes. Crinkled at the corners in a sincere smile, a smile that should be appreciated with the earnest of kisses from you.

Not really proofread! If you spot mistakes… oh well.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: none, really... Merle being Merle - again, 'sibling fight' - again, swear words...

Word Count: 1,4k

a/n: Small chapter, but I promise they will get bigger at some point! Real big actually... Sometimes...

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter Eight 》 《 Chapter Ten 》

Chapter Nine...

... in which Daryl struggles hard with the new discovered feelings, and therefore acts heart over head.

Maybe I′m too Busy being yours to fall for somebody new

'Do I Wanna Know?' by Hozier (originally by Arctic Monkeys)

I-I mean nothing to you? T-This meant nothing to you?

Your words echoed through his head; louder than the other voices. It broke Daryl, but healed him simultaneously.

It meant everything to him. He just didn't know it - until now.

Drowning out all the bad thoughts and locking them away, he knew what he had to do... He had to indeed grow some balls - but not to get over you, but to admit that he was in love.

Reopening his eyes, he got them to focus quickly. He jerked back in his chair and firmly grabbed Leah's wrists to peel them out of his jeans and boxers; away from his skin. "S-Stop, Leah. Y-You gotta stop."

The woman opposite him was more than just confused; furrowing her brow. "Daryl, what-" He shuffled and quickly moved to stand up; cutting her off mid sentence. "I-I can't. I have ta go." Without any further words or explanations, the biker let go of her and scrambled to get out of the room; leaving a completely stunned and confused woman behind.

Daryl felt like he couldn't breathe. The smell of alcohol, smoke and perfume suddenly suffocating him. He needed to get out of here. Hastily zipping up the zipper of his jeans and buckling his belt again, he stumbled out of the door and through the way too crowded room. His destination was clear. He didn't care what the people around him were thinking. All the biker wanted was to leave.

Once he made it out of the building, he more or less ran across the street to his bike.

His mind was spinning. The biker felt like he was drunk - without a single drop of alcohol. Mounting the vehicle, he let his head collapse against his crossed arms over the handlebar; taking in deep, wheezing breaths to somehow calm himself down.

With his body working on autopilot, Daryl put on his helmet and sunglasses and started the engine to drive back home. Home was a trailer in a trailer park at the outskirts of Gainesville. Once he closed the door behind himself, he let his helmet, sunglasses and key just drop to the floor, before he immediately went to collapse on his bed; just staring at the ceiling.

The hours ticked by and at some point he slept in; his eyes just too tired to cooperate, but his mind didn't let him have a restful and certainly not peaceful sleep. He was out for a while, then woke up again. Daryl would try to get back to sleep and shut his eyes, but as soon as he did, he could only see you. You were everywhere. In his head, his soul, his heart... It was as if you were running through every vein in his body all of a sudden.

He even dreamt of you, when he was in his short periods of sleep. He saw your face, your smile... Your body underneath his; brows furrowed and lips agape with pleasure. But he didn't dream only about the past, no... He dreamt about a future with you as well. His brain conjured sceneries he would've never ever considered happening in his whole life. A happy relationship... Marriage... Children... Daryl felt like he was trapped in a fever dream. Perhaps he was.

And round and round he went. The whole night.

Around two in the morning, the biker had enough. He stood up, paced the small space he called home and finally settled for a smoke; hoping this was going to help. So, he lit a cigarette and stood in the doorway of his front door; leaning against the doorframe. The quite chilly late September night air bit the skin of his bare upper body and legs, but Daryl couldn't care less. He had discarded his angel-winged vest, the black shirt and the jeans in an almost pathetic attempt to get more comfortable and sleep better during one of his waking moments. In vain, of course.

The smoke filled his lungs, but it didn't mend the pain and longing in his chest. "Fuck," the biker cursed; running a hand over his face.

He had to get to you. As fast as possible.

"Did ya follow my advice, lil' brother? Got yerself finally some pussy?" "Nah," Daryl answered short and crisp and just continued to work on his bike, which was is dire need of an oil change. Merle scoffed and crossed both arms over his chest. "Why? Told ya I'll drag yer sorry ass-" "S not your shit, Merle," Daryl exclaimed; tired of his brother 'bossing' him around. "I ain't needin' a babysitter, 'n I definitely ain't need ya ta tell me when I should 'get some pussy' 'n when not."

The older Dixon frowned; clearly taken aback by his little brother's words. "What happened to ya in Montana, huh? Yer a damn pain in the ass since ya returned from tha' lil' trip. Got yer brain washed or somethin'? Lost yer balls on the way back? Or nah, wait... Ya lost yer whole dick, Darlina?" Merle joked; laughing. "Shuddup, Merle," Daryl scowled immediately and glared at his brother. "Told ya! 'S none of yer damn shit!"

Merle's words got under Daryl's skin - and both of the brothers knew it. The more spurred on Daryl became, the more fun had Merle.

"Ohh, so ya did, huh..." Merle smirked and licked his lips. "Lemme guess... 'S 'bout a girl, baby brother, righ'? Left yer dick with her, eh?" The biker scoffed and grunted; slowly having enough of his brother's almost childish behaviour. He wiped his hands on the red rug stuffed in the back pocket of his overall and turned to face Merle; being done with the oil change. "I dun care wha' ya think, Merle. 'M tired of this bullshit 'ere." Daryl stated. He saw his opportunity to get away from here for a while, without needing Merle to tell why. He didn't have to justify himself to his brother.

And besides would Merle only think that he's insane. Doing all that for a girl... He most likely wouldn't understand.

"M leavin' fer a few days or 'm gon' go insane. I need a break. Bike season is over anyway. Ya'll get this done without me." The younger Dixon mounted his bike and started the engine, while Merle just stared at him; rendered speechless. "You can't jus' leave, Daryl." The man scoffed; revving the engine and turned up the pedestal, before he reached for his helmet. "Yeah... Yeah, I can. I need some space, man. I'll see ya." With those words, he drove out of the workshop to leave a confused and stunned Merle behind.

Back at his trailer, he grabbed his backpack and threw the first things which came across him and seemed important for his intention inside the bag, before grabbing his gear once again and driving off; speeding down highway twenty. He didn't care that it was almost evening. He didn't care that he probably acted with precipitation and gave a flying fuck that he was completely unaware where exactly you even lived. All Daryl cared about was getting to you and hopefully fixing the damage he had caused.

But unbeknownst to the biker, was he driving even further away from you instead of closer...

Daryl reached Miles City sooner than his GPS had predicted. Perhaps because he was driving like a maniac and had barely taken a break. It was almost a wonder that he didn't crash with how carelessly he was driving.

He had pondered a lot about where he should even start to search for you, but in the end decided his first destination to be that damn bar where everything started. He had lost and found you there the last time as well.

With an almost empty tank and utterly exhausted from definitely not having slept enough the past two nights, he parked his bike, exchanged the helmet he wore with his signature black baseball cap and walked inside the bar; taking off his sunglasses and pinning them to his shirt.

The music was loud. Too loud for his liking. His eyes immediately started to scan their surroundings on a desperate attempt to find you - but they didn't. No you. The biker sighed and decided to stay for a while. Perhaps you'd still come here, right? So, he sat on one of the bar stools and ordered himself some Bourbon. Daryl knew that alcohol wouldn't be the solution. After all he wasn't like his old man - or well... Didn't want to be like him. But right now in that situation? It was just what he needed.

Daryl lost quite a bit the track of time; didn't know how long he was actually sitting there and waiting. Not that he cared. He'd wait forever for you.

In the end, though, it was the other way round. Daryl got found...

Tags: @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @angelwings-crossbowstrings @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @imadisneyprincessiswear @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @coleigh-1205-blog @chaoticevilbakugo @ffsjustletmesleep @marvelcasey05 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @huntedmusicgardenn

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[dept-of-monster-affairs]

Sex Therapist

Note: previously posted under nicsnort but Tumblr decided to shadowban then terminate the account without warning. (this will be my monster blog from now on, even if the other is reinstated)

m!Incubus (Col'vanax) x f!reader

Word Count: 2982

Contains: blow jobs, hypnosis/trance, cuckolding, having a shitty boyfriend

You and your boyfriend were having trouble with your sex life. So, you agreed to go to a therapist. Turns out their therapist is an incubus, and he has his own plans for you.

You were thinking of breaking up with your boyfriend. He had been super pushy lately about sex. He wanted every meet-up to end in sex, and when you said no for whatever perfectly rational reason, he still pushed for a blowjob or tried to guilt trip you. It wasn’t like sex with him was that great, like it was fine, but you took more pleasure just doing things by yourself than relying on him for an orgasm…not that he had ever made you cum in the first place.

Still, you hesitated to break up with him; the first couple of months together were great outside of sex. He was kind and considerate. Then, something changed after he lost his job and spent most of the day online; he started putting all his focus on your sex life together. Sex wasn’t everything in a relationship, and the way he acted was enough to turn you off. Still, you wanted to work on these problems together - though so far, you’d gotten nowhere.

What you needed was outside relationship counseling. And luckily your boyfriend agreed.

“Are you sure this is the right place,” you asked him as you approached what looked like a renovated club. He had found a counselor through a recommendation from a buddy from his work who had similar problems with his wife.

“This is the address I was given. I mean, open property around here is pretty scarce; I’m sure they took what was available.”

Together, you went up to the club—the therapist’s—door and rang the bell. A peep window on the door slid open; you saw a feminine set of eyes peering through. Your boyfriend smiled at her. “Hi, we’re here for an appointment with the doctor.”

“Oh, yes! One moment,” a feminine voice replied with surprising enthusiasm. The eye slit shuttered, and a few moments later, they were buzzed in. Inside, the office was surprisingly clean and formal compared to the exterior. Comfortable chairs and couches were littered around, a tea and water station against one wall, and a desk where an extremely beautiful woman was waiting to check them in.

“The doctor knows you are here and will call you in when he’s ready. Please feel free to sit down and have a drink while you wait.”

You found it a little strange that the woman didn’t take your names or confirm your identities at all, but you shrugged it off. It wasn’t like this was a selective thing; people only came here if they needed help. You poured yourself a cup of tea and offered one to your boyfriend, who denied it as he sat in a chair. His eyes were on the assistant covetously. 

With another shrug, you sat on the plush couch across from him. Whatever tea this was smelt marvelous. Just inhaling the scent made your shoulders relax. There was a water feature providing a gentle, burbling water sound. As you sipped the tea, you sank into the couch. This waiting area was so relaxing that you were nearly falling asleep.

There must have been a silent fan somewhere as you felt a soft breeze drifting over your face and neck. Relax. The whisper of touch across your whole body. Let go. A ghostly caress upon your lips. Sink. A soft sigh escaped your lips. Deeper. Your neck muscles released, your head tilting back to rest upon the plush couch back.

“The doctor is ready for you.”

You jerked slightly as you were awoken from your dozing. Had you fallen asleep? You must have, or else had your boyfriend been speaking to you? Either way, you were feeling very relaxed. Getting up from the couch, you saw anticipation in your boyfriend’s eyes. He was nowhere near as relaxed as you.

The assistant led them through the door. On the other side, a tall man stood there. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Both he and his assistant should be models instead of working in a place like this. Where did the assistant go? Had she already left?

“Ah, please sit down,” the doctor greeted, his enrapturing voice capturing your attention completely. He gestured you to a couch across from the chair he was standing near. With a soft smile, you did so. Good girl.

You blinked, confused. It sounded like the doctor had said something, but his lips had not moved. Your boyfriend entered as well, sitting on the other end of the couch. You barely paid him any mind; your focus was on the doctor.

The doctor sat in his chair, his legs open and relaxed. Through his dress pants, you could see an impressive bulge. It was so much bigger than your boyfriend’s. So, eager.

Your eye slid up to the doctor’s face. Had he spoken again? No, but he wore a smile almost as if he knew what you had thought. Let your worries fade away.

“What brings you into my office today,” the doctor asked, his voice low and melodic, forcing you to focus on it to hear him. 

“Unmet sexual needs,” your boyfriend said bluntly. “She doesn’t want to ever have sex when I do, and when she finally puts out, she’s no fun, just wants to get it over with.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. Then his beautiful eyes focused on you; there was a strange shimmer in their depths. “Do you believe that is an accurate statement?” You are a good girl.

“No. He always wants sex or sexual favors whenever we get together.  I asked him to bring my lunch to work, and he wanted a blowjob in the bathroom in exchange. Bringing your girlfriend lunch shouldn’t be an exchange; it is simply something you do.” Your shoulders tensed, and the stress started to reenter your body.

“I see.” Relax. “Do you give him oral sex otherwise?” Sink deeper.

“Yes.” You are warm. Comfortable. You leaned back against the couch. Like sinking into a hot bath, a flush rose up your body. You were so relaxed. Listening to the doctor’s voice, each syllable pulling you down. Deeper. Sinking. Your thoughts were growing sluggish.

“Do you like sucking your boyfriend’s cock?” The direct nature and harsh words from his mouth were spoken in the same smooth tone as before. Such a question should have jarred you, but you were so relaxed. 

“No.” You heard your boyfriend huff. Would the doctor be upset with you? Relax. You are safe.

“Can you tell me why?” You are a good girl.

“It feels like an obligation.” 

Good girls like sucking cock. The doctor shifted in his chair, your eyes could not help but gaze down to his straining pants. The bulge was bigger than before. You licked your lips at the thought of his member aching to get out of its confines. “Do you want to suck my cock?”

“What the fuck, man,” your boyfriend shouted. The doctor waved his hand, and your boyfriend stiffened as if restrained.

“Yes, please,” you replied politely, your boyfriend’s words and sudden petrified state not even phasing you.

“Good girl,” the doctor said aloud. A shiver of pleasure coursed through you at those words. A smile grew on your face. “Tell me, does your boyfriend eat you out?”

Your smile faded into a pout. “No.”

“Do you orgasm when your boyfriend fucks you?”

“No.”

“My poor, pretty pet,” the doctor cooed. “Thank you for being honest with me. As a reward, you may suck my cock.”

The smile returned to your face. He pulled his cock from his pants and gestured you to him. Your eyes were fixated on the cock as you slid off the couch and crawled forward. Just like the man, it was such a beautiful cock. Long and thick with just the right amount of curve. He was already rock hard, a glistening bead of white pre-cum waiting for you to taste.

As you knelt before him, there was a grunt behind you like a muffled scream. Your head turned back to see your boyfriend frozen in place. The doctor touched your chin and gently redirected your face to look at him again. “Forget about him, pet.”

His gorgeous yellow eyes shimmered like fire. They were so beautiful against his scarlet skin. A stray thought passed your clouded mind. Had they always looked like that? Had the doctor always had beautiful ink-black horns that curved up from the top of his head, reaching back to his strong, leathery wings? Of course, he did. Silly you.

“Good girl, brush away all those silly little thoughts. All you want is your reward.” His devil’s tail lifted from behind him, pushing your head forward.

Your focus returned to your reward. The turgid cock before you. Reaching up, you grasped the hot rod in your hand. Pumping your hand up and down, you marveled at how the soft, smooth skin combined with each bump and ridge. Your pussy clenched with desire. You wanted to feel this cock in you.

Silly you. You could.

The growing bead of inky black pre-cum on the tip of his cock was calling to you. Sticking out your tongue, you ran a long lick up the underside of his cock before lapping up the pre-cum. As that beautiful pearl of essence hit your tongue, you groaned. You had never tasted anything so good. Salty, yes, but with an undercurrent of addictive sweetness. You wanted more, and you already knew how to get it.

Popping the tip of his cock in your mouth, you began to bob your head up and down. The bumps on the underside of his cock rubbed against your tongue, pleasuring you as you pleasured him. 

“There is a good girl.” He cupped the back of your head, guiding your rhythm but not forcing you to take more. 

The beautiful creature before you moaned and sighed gently as you pleasured him. “Mmmm, you are already so good at this, but there is room for improvement.” His breath hitched with pleasure. “I will teach you. No worries, pet, I will teach you everything you need to know and more.”

You could feel his body tensing, his member growing hot. His fingers tightened on your head, his claws digging just a hair into your scalp. “Such a good girl. You are going to swallow all of me, right? Good girls don’t let cum go to waste.”

You redoubled your efforts. Taking more of his cock into your mouth. Usually, you would choke on a cock this deep in your throat, but all you could think about was taking more of it in. Each time it went deeper into your throat, you sank deeper into yourself. Relaxing your throat, letting more of his cock inside of you. 

Sucking cock felt so good. Good girls liked sucking cock. You were a good girl.

He held your head in place. His member swelled as his delicious cum poured down your throat. You worked hurriedly, swallowing every drop you could. With each spurt of the hot, thick seed, your pussy clenched with delight.

Releasing your head, he began to stroke your hair. Slowly, you raised your head, cleaning his cock as you went. You sucked on the tip of his cock, getting every last drop of his cum. It tingled in your throat and stomach, warming your body like a hot meal on a cold day. With a pop, you released his cock. Looking up at him, you smiled contentedly.

“You look happy. Are you happy, pet?”

You nodded, your smile growing. He smiled back, his beautiful fangs displayed. “Excellent. Good girls are happy girls. And you are a very good girl.”

The compliment sent a wave of warmth across your body. You were so warm.

“Stand up, pet.”

Without hesitation, you rose to your feet. As you moved, your soaking sensitive pussy lips rubbed against each other, causing you to whimper. Your nipples were rock hard, poking through your shirt and bra, begging to be touched.

“You look warm. It is warm in here. Undress for me.”

Your movements were languid as you complied. Your fingers dragged across your skin as you removed your shirt. The tension of your bra straps stood out compared to how relaxed your shoulders were. Freeing your breasts was a relief. You wanted to touch them, to pull at your nipples, but you resisted. Good girls did what they were told, and you had not been told to touch yourself. 

As you pulled down your jeans and underwear together, a pool of your arousal was revealed in your panties. Your inner thighs quickly slickened as your desire was no longer soaked up by your clothing. Soon, you stood nude before him.

“Good girl. You look delicious, pet.” As he stared at you, you realized that while his eyes were roving your form, they were looking beyond the flesh. His fiery yellow eyes stared right into your very being to your soul. He licked his lips with hunger.

The large wings on his back flexed as he opened his arms, inviting you to sit. His serpentine tail guided you in place. Your back rested against his chest, your legs on either side of his, baring your dripping pussy to the man in front of you. Who was he? Oh, that’s right. Your boyfriend. You had forgotten.

Your boyfriend was still frozen in place. Fear in his eyes as he forcibly stared at the beautiful creature coddling you. Was something wrong? You furrowed your brow in confusion.

“No need for that, pet,” the heavenly being touching you suggested. “No need to worry. You are safe with me. Relax.”

The claws at the end of his elegant bat wings hooked around your ankles, holding your legs up and out. The position forced your arms up and around his neck or else risk slipping off. But you felt no fear. No concern that you would fall. You were safe with him. He would never let you fall.

“I am going to pleasure you, now, my pretty little pet. All you need to do is focus. Focus on my voice.” His low, even, melodic voice spoke in your ear. 

His clawed hands ran up your stomach to play with your breasts. He rolled and rubbed your nipples and breasts gently. The spade of his tail stroked your pussy. Just enough pressure to keep your attention but not enough to let you cum.

“Now, pet, do you know why you are here today? No need to speak. Just nod or shake your head.”

You nodded. The tip of the spade of his tail flicked your clit. You gasped with pleasure.

“You are wrong. But that is okay, silly thing. You are wrong because that man across from you lied to you. You know that man, do you not, pet?”

You nodded and were rewarded with a tug on your nipples that made you moan in want of more.

“Correct. You do know him. He is the man that cannot make you cum. He is the man that only thinks of his own pleasure. He is the man that came to me and asked me to make you a cock-drunk slut who would cater to his every sexual whim. He is the man who could never make you feel as good as I do.”

You whimpered in need. While he spoke in your ear, his hot breath caressing your skin, the words buzzing in your mind, his eyes were fixated on the man across from you.

“That man thinks you are a bad girl, but I know better, pet. You are a good girl. You are such a perfectly submissive girl.”

His long, forked tongue ran up your neck. He bit your ear softly before continuing. “You see, I like to help people, pet. You humans are so wrapped up in your sexual morals that you all have such a hard time indulging. So, few of you know what you truly want, but I help you discover that.”

He began speeding up his attention and the rhythm of his words, driving you closer to the edge.

“You humans think my kind brings sexual corruption, that we are evil, but all we do is reveal your deepest desires and aid you in reaching them. When that man came to me, I accepted his request to help in your sex lives as a therapist. But when you arrived, I saw what he truly wanted - you as nothing more than a tool for him for sex and money, a leech. And I saw what you truly were - such a good submissive pet, so ready to find the perfect owner.”

Your body writhed in his arms. You were at the edge, almost ready to climax, but you could not cum. Deep inside of you, you knew. Good girls did not cum without permission.

“Good girls do not deserve men like him. You have so much more potential.”

You whimpered. Tears forming at the corners of your eyes. Your body was pulled taught, ready to hear that word. You need to hear it. You would go insane if you did not-- “Cum.”

White filled your vision as your eyes rolled back in your head. A gush of fluid shot out of you as your pussy clenched wildly on nothing, nearly reaching the dreadful man sitting frozen on the couch. You had never felt like this before. The orgasm was a rocket, and now you were floating among the stars.

Slowly, your body relaxed once more. The hot hands on your body stroking you, calming you. 

“Very good,” his voice was low and evenly melodic again. He sighed and pressed a kiss against your ear. As he pulled his lips away, the softest whisper that you only heard because of your focus on his voice was spoken. “I think I am going to keep you.”

Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Find more stories in my Masterlist

More Col'vanax: Rule of Three

[fixated-cookies]

Okay so hear me out

Cookie sized shmilk and a witch y/n. Wether shmilk is a cookie with a penis or like a humonculous or something. The beast pre corruption encounter a witch whilst sneaking through her house and she is NOT happy. In a act of intimidation she grabs shadowmilk toss him in her mouth, maybe sucks on him, them spits him out on the ground.

She growls in an unnaturally deep, rattling voice “If I see any of you little P E S T S in my home again I will bite off bits of you piece by piece. G E T O U T.” Before fading into the shadows of the home. Shadow milk is gasping, cock hot and dripping pre. Barely managing to avoid being called out for his boner, he sneaks out late into the night.

The witch lay sleeping on a grand bed, fast asleep. Shadow milk’s journey to the witch’s body was dangerous, and long; so when he makes it he goes straight for the pussy.

His size makes him unable to get us fully off but just wet enough. He’s there for a while making a mess of himself, cock spent from his violent strangling session.

After that experience he begins to try and make an automatic orgasm spell for the next time to get soaked.

God i need to be admitted 😭

oh my goshhh, then perhaps we need to be admitted together Just thinking about little cookie shadow milk running off into the night with his dick out hard as a rock while soaked is hilarious

MDNI-SMUT AHEAD

However, I wonder what gives him the courage to come back though? He almost got completely eaten. Maybe it was his drive and insatiable need to cum and no matter how many times he jerked him self off, he never felt truly relieved. It could also be that the sensation of being “taken in” by someone else, especially after such an assertive display of dominance, would stir something in him despite the humiliation. But once he comes back his excitement returns. He can feel the jam rushing in his veins, his cock hardening once more. This time you're asleep and vulnerable, and definitely do not feel the little cookie pushing your panties to the side to get comfortable. Maybe he'll start off with foreplay, licking along your vulva and clit taking in the sweet smell. Your clit takes up space in his mouth as he suckles onto it. He really can't get enough. He pops out his cock and immediately gets to work, well...as much as he can, the size difference doesn't exactly accommodate him. But it's nice anyway, his cock is completely enveloped in the warmth of your cunt and he can't stop himself from his gasp, whines, and groans. No matter how many times he spews his milky cum inside you, he needs more. "Hff—hahhh, more—nghh—!"

with the amount of juices spewing out, I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up becoming soggy, not that he's complaining. He knows well that his size isn't enough to get you off, so he gets creative. While simultaneously thrusting into your wet hole, he's sucking on your sweet clit. Lapping and licking the bundle of nerves needily. Then finally, throughout all the twitching and struggling you end up coming undone, soaking him in your juices. At this point he can't even cum because there's nothing left for him to give. He's tired, exhausted, and sticky but it's worth it. Maybe next time he can make a spell that instantly causes orgasms for you, if there's a next time.

[inksoakedparchment]

TEACH ME

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader

genre: smut

trope: teacher x student

word cunt: 936

tw: AGE GAP, smut, dirty talk (please scroll if you don’t like these things)

a/n: smash

masterlist

It’s your last year in high school, you’re already an adult - you’re eighteen years old - but also a teenager with a more mature mind than the people your age. And you have a crush on your fucking English teacher. His salt-pepper hair and beard with his muscled body but also he has a tiny stomach. The way his veins hands play with the marker when he doesn’t write on the board or when he bites his lip while searching for the right word. It’s your favourite lecture.

He always gives a story, a novel or an essay for every week and he gives a topic or a word to make you write anything that comes to your mind. Last week’s word was ‘Forbidden’ and you immediately started writing a teacher-student novel. It came out about fifty-two pages. You gave it to him two days ago during the last lecture you had and today? You have English again.

The lesson finishes and you make your way out of the classroom but he calls out.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, Mr. Pascal?” you turn around and look at him.

“Lock the door, please,” he asks you seriously and you do as he asked. “Come here,” he gestures and you stop next to him, dropping your bag on the floor.

“I want to talk about your novel, Miss,” he looks up at you.

“What’s the problem with that?” you raise your eyebrow.

“Nothing just, ‘His dark blue jeans stretch on his perfectly shaped thighs, the white shirt almost rips when he lifts his arm to write on the board, and I just want to bite in those biceps. Mr. P looks like a man who likes to fuck rough and I want to be under him. Or on top of him, I don't care. His salt-pepper hair looks so soft, and the way his brown eyes meet mine when he talks about some age-gap romance, it turns me on. I want to be fucked on his desk. And he does it after the lesson’ about this,” he looks up at you. “Mr. P? Age-gap romances and I think this ‘Mr. P’ is an English teacher. Or am I reading too much into it?” he runs his hand through his hair.

“You’re not,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“It’s inappropriate, Miss Y/L/N,” he shakes his head and sighs.

“The look in your eyes when you see me in skirts, that’s inappropriate. This is just a novel,” you call him out.

“It is?” he runs a hand up on your thigh. “Did you put this short skirt on, because you want to tease your teacher, Miss?” he grips your inner thigh and you gasp.

“I did, sir,” you nod and he stands up, letting your thigh go.

“You’re filthy,” he pushes your head down on his desk. “But you get what you want. You get what your young pussy needs,” he leans to your ear, pressing his crotch to your ass. “A real man’s dick, princess,” he whispers.

Pedro rolls your skirt over your ass and spanks it.

“No underwear? I knew you were a slut. The look in your eyes, the way you’re pressing you’re thighs together during every damn lesson, thinking I didn’t notice,” he scoffs. “I did.”

You hear he pulls his belt out of his jeans and without hesitation, he spanks your butt with a damn belt. Five times on each cheek. You can’t help but moan from the pleasure and pain. He knows exactly what he’s doing and damn you like it.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he traces circles on your hips.

“I want you to teach me how you like to fuck. I want to be sore and I don’t want to walk properly,” you moan out.

“Good girl,” he groans and takes off his trousers.

With a fast, ruthless thrust, he slams his dick into your pussy, stretching you open as he fucks you hard and relentlessly, his pace brutal from the start. The force knocks the breath from your lungs, your body jerking against him, but he doesn’t slow down—he only grips you tighter. His fingers twist into your hair, yanking your head back until your scalp burns, but all you can do is cry out his name, your voice breaking with every punishing thrust.

You can only hope the building is empty because there’s no way in hell you’re being quiet. His other hand slides down, rough fingers wrapping around your throat, forcing you upright against his solid chest. Your head spins as he tightens his grip just enough to steal your air, to remind you who’s in control. His breath is hot against your ear, the low growl of his voice sending shivers through your overstimulated body.

“Take it,” he orders, his teeth grazing your jaw before he drags his mouth down to your throat. His lips crash against your skin, kissing, biting, sucking hard enough to leave marks—proof of how thoroughly he’s claiming you. Your body trembles, helpless against the onslaught, but fuck, you don’t want him to stop. Every rough, punishing thrust sends shockwaves through you, pushing you closer to the edge, your mind unravelling in the pure, raw intensity of him.

“Cum for me, my dirty little secret,” he bites your earlump.

Your eyes roll back in your head and you cum with trembling body, moaning his name while your pussy squeezes his dick and that was the last push for him too. He bites your shoulder as he cums in you.

“You’re mine, understood?” he pants caressing your waist.

“Understood,” you mutter, trying to catch your breath.

[zeel-zzz]

I am sorry about that Peter ask (not really I must spread my truths)

SO !

- sirius and peter have shagged 1 (one) singular time. Once. Doesn’t count no penetration or whatever. BUT peter brings this up WHENEVER HE CAN

- Remus has photos of sirius in his drawer

- Sirius sleeps in James’ bed like allllll the time

- James is kind of like there. Like dubious consent but in a friendship

New thought

- Barty is utterly OBSESSEEEDDD with Evan and Reggie darling

- ^^ he sleeps under their bed

- He probably stole Reg’s old stuffed animal (that sirius gave him) and ate it

- he fucked pandora just to get Evan’s attention

- bucket list of fucking everybody in the entire fucking school

- man probably cries during sex. Breaksdown

Break dances

PETER AND BARTY IN A BRRAKDANING COMPETITION TOGETHER W REMUS AS A JUDGE AND JAMES WITH PETER????

GASP GASP GASP

NEW THOUGHT

wait old thought

Barty hiding under Peter’s bed and stealing his socks and grabbing his ankle just to fuck with him

Wait

Idk what the fuck this is

not hating on the Peter ask, that shit was fun to read.

now for your list

- totally agree Peter and Sirius hooked up one, Sirius was drunk and Peter was more than willing (Sirius barely remember but Peter took pictures and hangs them around the dorm room when Sirius is being annoying

- no Remus has a photo album of Sirius. there are the cute pictures the soft ones everyone knows about that then there are the ones that just so covered in lube and cum that they've become a biohazard but he'll never get rid of them because those are his favorite one

- James gave Sirius permission once while they were kids to sleep together in the same bed. Sirius took that shit and ran with it.

- there is no doubt that Barty sleeps under their bed like the fucking creep he is. (he's only under there because he was watching them sleep, and one of them was going to wake up)

- what the fuck do you mean he ate Reg's stuffed animal? (could totally see it tho)

- if we're going with Rosier twins/siblings, you just know Evan beat the fuck out of Barty, (its okay tho Barty had never been more turned on in his life. probably jerked off till his dick fell off just think about how Evan beat him up. using own blood as lube)

- ^if not siblings, Evan fucked Barty while telling him that the only reason he got with Pandora was because they looked similar. and that he should enjoy it now with Evan because after this the closest thing he'll get to fucking Evan again is imagining Pandora is him.

- no, eveyone has fucked Barty Crouch Jr. and if you didn’t fuck him it's either cuz your a lesbian or just fucking weird

- Barty doesn’t do emotional vulnerability so if someone like James (and I mean soft, sunshine boy James) were to have sex with him he wouldn't know what to do about it

- i need you to expand on that break dancing one because you lost me

-Barty and Peter are friend who like to fuck with each other. Barty’s the one who get Peter so terrified of his own bed that he asks James and Sirius to look under it for him. they call him a pussy until one day Barty scare the shit out of Sirius.

my headcanon;

- James was Peter's first boyfriend and most likely his first love too. they weren't bad together and they mostly definitely weren't perfect for each other but Peter thinks about it alot. their lost potential.

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

Okay, I've been thinking about bucktommy and crashing the helicopter post-reconciliation.

Only it's not the 118 who gets called out. They don't even hear the call over the radio because they're all busy fighting a fire and don't have the spare time or attention to listen to other calls. (Maybe the 133 as they seem to be the ones to deal with 118 shenanigans)

So the first time anyone hears anything about it is after they get back to the firehouse and they're cleaning up in preparation to end the shift. Bobby gets a call from the 217 captain, who is like "hey, I know Kinard was one of yours and he's dating Buckley. So I need to tell you he's been in an accident and is in the hospital. He's still in surgery."

And Bobby just freezes, manages to thank the 217 captain, and takes a minute or two to figure out how to tell Buck. He finds Buck in the locker room, pulls him aside, Hen and Chim watching curiously from the other side of the glass. They see Bobby looking incredibly serious as he talks to Buck, then they see Buck's legs buckle under him and Bobby catching him.

They come rushing out to hear Buck saying brokenly to Bobby "I have to go. I have to be there for him".

Then we cut to the hospital, Buck sitting on a chair and just staring, lost. Bobby is next to him, Athena on the other side of Bobby. Hen and Chim are sitting nearby and talking quietly.

A nurse comes out, looking tired but serious, and says "Family of Thomas Kinard?"

No one moves. Buck jerks at Tommy’s name but he doesn't get up. He's not family... right? They've only just gotten back together, it's still too new and fragile, they aren't that close again yet, right? He's his boyfriend but not family. He doesn't register Bobby nudging his shoulder.

The nurse looks around then goes "Anyone for Thomas Kinard? Anyone?"

Bobby nudges Buck's shoulder harder and goes "Get up there. He's yours"

And Buck nods, swallows hard, and manages to walk to the nurse on shaky legs. He can't wait to hear but also is terrified. What if he lost Tommy again? What if he's gone forever this time? And Buck didn't even know until after the fact. Would have to deal with the question of whether Tommy would have survived had it been the 118 responding.

At the very least, Buck would have had a chance to say goodbye

[threegoldfish]

Steven, oblivious to whatever had been going on with that woman, takes in the sight of her sitting a bit more straight, watching fingers brushing through her hair when she gets herself ready to explain; Oh boy, that sounds like she's got a lot to say about the whole stealing-thing---

Her palms find the smooth surface of that table next to them, slapping down with force all of a sudden; Steven jerks at the movement and loud bang it produces, takes a step back, eyes wide, hands shooting away from the artifact to curl against another in front of his chest - just for him to then immediately reach out again for the stone slab to make sure it isn't falling to the ground and shattering into pieces. ---Thank god, however, the thing's heavy enough for it to not really move out of place, despite the rather violent shake of that table. Steven sighs, relieved, then swallows, gaze focused on the artifact as he gives it a bit of a gentle nudge (checking if it really won't budge, satisfied with how secure it seems to be in its position) before his attention is back on her, with him standing more straight as he listens.

That's... that's an awful lot of information and the longer she speaks, the higher Steven's brows lift along his forehead, almost reaching his hairline when she stops after what feels like minutes. A blink follows - another one - and Steven clears his throat, brown eyes now flicking back and forth between her (Sasha, she tells him) and the artifact that is much more of important nature than she expects it to be.

"---A cult?", he asks, and oh no, doesn't that ring some bells within him here? He has to think of Harrow, of how he'd managed to gather a massive following in an attempt to bring Ammit back; If these guys she mentioned are similar in any shape or form, they could absolutely be trying to do the same thing here, just with---

"...Oh god." Steven's gaze drifts away for a second, focusing on an imaginary point behind her, thoughts racing. His hands intertwine in front of his chest again, fingers picking along nails, tugging on knuckles, letting go of nervous energy as a few seconds of silence pass. "...Oh god, oh bloody--- not again..."

As distracted as Steven seems to be, the more sudden his next movement is when he quickly turns around toward the stone slab then, leaning over it for a second time, finger trailing along the hieroglyphs as he rereads everything. His lips move as he does but he's not speaking anything out loud, dark irises flicking over each and every single picture with intense devotion and focus, wide-eyed, shoulders moving with every breath he takes.

"Terrible you said, huh." Thoughtful, a little hesitant, but also... very much uncomfortable at the same time. The chuckle that follows is as dry as the Sahara Desert, lacking of any humor, breathy and as nervous as Steven's whole posture is. "...Yeah, this... I think this thing is terrible indeed. Bloody terrible, I guess. Like... this thing--- the uh, what it says, it's...---"

Steven takes another breath, then looks a bit more collected again as he stands, brows knitting. He finds Sasha's gaze and shakes his head for a moment, in disbelief, before he gestures toward the ancient relic she had randomly stolen without even knowing how important it might be.

"...It sounds like a poem. ---Like a ritual, even. Like something that's needed to be spoken out when attempting to summon...something. A god, for example." ...Which might sounds ridiculous to someone who has no idea that ancient Egyptian gods are still around to this day and not just a myth. Steven clears his throat, very much tense, and the more he thinks of people being out there trying to summon Apep, the more he starts to feel panic rise within him again.

He contemplates calling for Marc, let him handle this thing... Perhaps he should. Oh gosh. Should he show this to Khonshu...?!

Oh god, and the people she stole this from - they will try to find this thing, and if they are just somewhat similar to Harrow's previous following, they'll not hesitate to do whatever they need to get it back.

"---You cannot sell this." A statement, voice surprisingly firm as Steven looks at her, determined. "You absolutely cannot sell this, to anyone."

sasha was absolutely giddy with delight. maybe this jake-who-wasn't-jake wasn't so disappointing, either. it certainly made for some entertainment, that was for sure. teeth gently bit down on her tongue in a cheeky manner in response to his annoyance, humming a laugh quietly while she got comfortable in her chair. a little payback definitely made her feel better.

relationship, though? that kind of soured her glee, gaze lowering to think about that silently for a moment. like.. a real one? the same for ' jake ', too? jealousy bubbled underneath her skin for a man she'd only met once, sasha adjusting her coat quietly. hm.

elbow lifted onto the table, chin making itself at home to rest on her palm, gaze following his fingertips. she liked the way she caressed the stone so gently, taking a deep breath while she bit the inside of her cheek in thought. she watched almost longingly, freehand quietly drumming on the tabletop while she imagined some not so decent things with his soft looking touch combined. she was just a girl, after all. seeing him so excited about it was quite sweet, too.

she blinked suddenly, perking back up and brought back to reality when he started speaking again, sitting straight and raking through her hair like she hadn't just fantasized something about a total stranger. gaze swiveled back up to meet his, staring at him blankly for a moment.

apep. that made so much sense!

" hm? OH--UGH. " sasha rolled her eyes, leaning back a little before palms slapped down on the tabletop in a frustrated manner, cursing under her breath. she had a story to TELL. " listen to this-- " she started, as if this were normal gossip. voice heavy with its usual russian dialect.

" so I used to do business with this man. many years ago, right? he has his guy contact my guy that puts me in contact with people--and he asks him to ask me--who this egyptian artifact buyer I used to sell to is. so I tell him. "

she puts her finger up, wagging it. " that makes me wonder, right? what is he looking for? because this man has never ever been interested in egyptian artifacts. he used to buy, sell and smuggle weapons. terrible man, really. too much cologne, too. I could smell him from a mile away. " waving a dismissive hand.

" so I find him. because he is stupid and proud and I know where he is located. he does not know where I am located, though. none of them do. that's why I win and they lose. and I do my thing I can do and I spy on him. " fingers wiggling as if to imitate a creeping motion. not that he knew what exactly 'what she could do' that was.

" and he and these other men are all together. is really fucking creepy, honestly. like a cult. and they're standing around talk about who you mentioned. ahh---apep, right? and they have that slab. and they look a little too happy. talking about one step closer to serving their ultimate purpose for...uhmm apep, yes--"

she furrowed her brows, looking at him while trying to stifle a laugh. because it was so creepy and absolutely ridiculous.

" that many men in a room that happy means something terrible. so I stole it. " giving a sigh while she folded her arms over her chest. no other rhyme or reason, really. she had no idea what the slab did. she was just petty. " and because they killed my buyer for it. " mumbling curse words in russian under her breath. as if that were necessary.

" so is it worth anything? because I was just going to sell it and use some funds for a couple of hitmen as revenge and maybe a charity of your choosing. " grinning ear to ear, completely oblivious.

oh.. where were her manners?

"--sasha, by the way. " both elbows on the table now, fists curled underneath her chin and legs doing a single swing underneath the table. this was so exciting getting down to business !

[quintessenceofdust88]

Several Sentence Sunday (and also Inspiration Saturday)

I was tagged by my darlings @bidisasterevankinard and @typicalopposite for Several Sentence Sunday, and since I procrastinated Inspiration Saturday yesterday, this will serve as both hehe ♥

(okay, so this isn't in any of my WIPs and will probably not go anywhere, I just needed someone to vent my frustrations about Eddie and Tommy is the one I chose! inspired by many thoughts I've been having since Thursday, and conversations with many people but mostly @agentpeggycartering @bidisasterevankinard and @iredastead, thanks for the yapping time lovelies ♥)

Tommy is being weird with him.

Eddie's been back for about ten days when he finally gets an invitation to Tommy and Buck's house, that Buck moved to about a month before he arrived. And the invitation came from Buck himself, not from Tommy, so Eddie doesn't think he's being paranoid about the pilot treating him differently.

If Tommy is mad at him for some reason (though Eddie can't fathom why, they haven't even talked much since Eddie moved), it explains why the invitation took so long; frankly, part of Eddie was expecting to set foot in LA and have Buck all over him wanting to hang out, but not quite. Buck had barely shown up, mostly to say hi to Chris, and then Eddie hadn't seen much of him.

Eddie shows up anyway, casting his doubts aside, because he definitely missed hanging out with the two of them. If there's a downside to the months he passed in Texas is how lonely he was; he can't wait to be able to hang out with his friends whenever he wants again.

Chris opts out of joining him, also wanting to catch up with his LA friends, and Eddie doesn't mind. It's good that it'll be just the three of them.

At least it should be, but again, Tommy is being weird. Not to Buck, God no. With Buck he's all 'sweetheart' and kisses to the cheek and hand holding all the time. Eddie privately thinks that this is how they're behaving now, six months after their reconciliation, he's quite lucky to have been in Texas for the first few days after they got back together (he tries not to think what they could have gotten up to in his house while Buck lived there; ignorance is bliss or whatever).

But the point is: Tommy doesn't have any scrunchy smiles or 'how are you doing, man?' and talking about the latest NBA developments with Eddie. Instead he's giving him that trademark bitchy look, and barely answering when Eddie does talk to him.

Buck, bless him, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. He seems ridiculously happy, all heart eyes at his boyfriend, and for the first time, Eddie feels like a third wheel between them, and that's what makes him decide enough is enough. When Buck leaves to check on their appetizers, he turns to Tommy, who's quite deliberatedly staring at the TV with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Tommy, man, have I done something to you?" He asks, and Tommy looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "To me? How could you? You haven't even talked to me one-on-one since Evan and I were broken up." Eddie sighs; he should have seen that coming, though he never thought Tommy to be the needy kind. Maybe Buck was rubbing off on him. "Tommy, you know Buck's my best friend, I had to..." "Oh, is he?!" Tommy says, his voice laced with faux-surprise and mockery, and Eddie recoils. "I would never guess based on the way you treat him" - tbc -

Np tagging @laundryandtaxesworld @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @fairytalegonewronga03 @sad-girl-hours23 and whoever else would like to join ♥

[clovertheloser]

Me: ok even though I really don't want to, I should probably pirate and watch the new episode so I know how it can factor into hell of a time

(22 minutes later)

Me:....I want to slam my head against the wall.

[oatmealmika]

i’m genuinely so curious if he ever actually meant it when he said i was awesome. he isn’t stupid, he knew he was juggling two poor girls at the same time. or maybe i never was on par with the other girl. in his mind he probably only ever thought there was just one girl he was aiming for. it never was me