#my tastes in writing and reading sync up

[buckysleftbicep]

letters through time (5) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: none, a little angst and a ton of fluff to make up for the heartache in the previous chapters!

summary: you find a letter from 1944 hidden in the old brooklyn apartment you moved signed by one james buchanan barnes. you write back, he did too, and somehow, across decades, you both fall in love.

word count: 1.8k

author's note: hi my loves, we have finally made it to the last chapter!! i can’t even begin to express how grateful i am for all the love this series has received. your kind words and sweet comments means the world to me, especially because, truthfully, i never planned on sharing my fics on here! writing was something i turned to when i needed to cope, and to know that people do enjoy what i write means so much more to me than i can explain. i love you guys so much and stay safe out there!

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He tasted like rain and everything you’d been aching for.

His hands cradled your face as he kissed you, slowly and gently, like he was rediscovering something he thought he’d lost. And maybe he was. Maybe you both were.

You clung to the lapels of his coat, grounding yourself in the feeling of him—solid, real and warm. Your lips moved in sync with his, tentative at first, then deepening into something filled with quiet desperation and promise.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, the silence between you didn’t stretch awkwardly. It settled, full and alive, charged with all the things you hadn’t been able to say but had always hoped.

He smiled. And your knees nearly gave out. “Hi.”

You huffed a soft, tearful laugh. “Hi.”

Bucky’s eyes, those familiar cerulean eyes that once lived only in your imagination, behind layers of ink and yellowed paper—were softer now. Maybe because they weren’t just gazing out from a photograph. They were looking at you. Seeing you.

“You said you remembered everything,” you whispered, just to hear it again. Just to be sure. “All of it?”

He nodded slowly. “I didn’t at first,” he said. “They wiped so much. I felt like I was swimming through fog. But something about your letters… they stuck with me. Even when everything else slipped away.”

His voice faltered, rough with emotion. Your heart ached just hearing it.

“I think it’s because you were the one thing they didn’t account for,” he said. “You weren’t part of my past. You were my future.”

Tears rose again, unbidden and overwhelming.

You took a small step back, just enough to really look at him. The lines on his face. The tiredness in his shoulders. The wear carved into him by time and war and loss. He wasn’t the young man in the photograph anymore—but that didn’t matter. He was still him.

Still Bucky. Still James.

“Can I come in?” he asked gently, his voice nearly a whisper, like he didn’t know if he had the right to ask.

You nodded and stepped aside.

He entered slowly, his eyes scanning the apartment like he was trying to memorize it. When his gaze landed on the cabinet—the one that had given you his first letter—his steps faltered. He reached out, brushing the wood with his fingertips.

Then he turned to you, something tender and aching in his expression.

“You kept them, didn’t you?” You didn’t need to ask what he meant.

Silently, you led him to your bedroom. You knelt and pulled out the box from beside the bed sealed all those months ago like a secret too sacred to discard.

You placed it between you on the edge of the mattress. Bucky reached for it as if it were a relic.

He opened the box carefully, gently. Inside lay the neat stack of letters. The faded daisies he had once given you you had once pressed between pages. The polaroids. The familiar curl of your handwriting wrapped around stories, questions, hopes.

And his.

He picked up one of the earliest notes, reading the words aloud with a disbelieving laugh:

“You sure you’re not pulling my leg, sweetheart? Phones that do everything?”

You smiled as he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. “God, I really thought you were messing with me.”

He flipped through a few more, his fingertips lingering on each one. Then his hands stilled, eyes landing on the letter you’d written after your visit to the Smithsonian, the one with no explanations, no logic. Just hope.

Please come back to me, James.

He inhaled sharply. Closed his eyes. Swallowed hard.

When he looked at you again, tears shimmered in his lashes.

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

You shook your head, your throat too tight to speak at first. “You came back Bucky. That’s all that matters to me.”

He reached out and took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

The silence between you was heavy, thick with all the things that had been lost and everything that had managed to survive. But it wasn’t painful. It was full. Alive.

Eventually, you migrated to the couch. The storm had dwindled to a whisper outside, you curled into each other like magnets long kept apart, finally drawn back into place. His arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, your legs tucked beside his.

“So,” you murmured, your head resting against his chest, “what happens now?”

Bucky tilted his head, glancing down at you with the same boyish softness you had once only known through paper.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “But I’d like to find out. With you.”

You smiled. “You mean you don’t have a Stark Industries time machine stashed in your back pocket?”

He snorted. “Nope. Just trauma and charm, doll.”

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his shoulder. He smiled wider, and tightened his arm around you.

And for the first time, in what felt like a hundred lifetimes, it finally felt like home.

The next few weeks were gentle. Bucky didn’t leave.

He stayed in Brooklyn, in the apartment that had once seemed like a strange anomaly in the timeline of your life, but had somehow become the bridge between past and present. Between you and him. Day by day, you came to know the version of James Buchanan Barnes who existed not in ink or memory, but in flesh and blood.

You learned that he was quiet in the mornings, that he liked his coffee strong, nearly burnt, and that he always read the newspaper from front to back like it was a ritual. You teased him for it, joking that he had officially become a grandpa, and he would roll his eyes but smile every time.

He still called you “sweetheart.” But now, he said it softly against your skin, with the warmth of someone who could reach across the bed and kiss your forehead after saying it. And every time, it made something settle in your chest. Something that had been waiting a very long time to rest.

He told you stories.

Some were light—childhood pranks with Steve, the time he tried to sneak out of camp only to be caught by a very unimpressed drill sergeant, his fascination with how different Brooklyn looked now.

Others were dark. Much darker. He told you about waking up in cold HYDRA cells with no idea who he was. About the way his memories had been stolen and stitched back wrong. About the fragments that survived the breaking—faces, smells, sounds. Your name.

“Every time they woke me up,” he said once, voice low and rough like gravel, “even when I didn’t know who I was… I remembered this apartment, that drawer. I didn’t know why. Didn’t know what it meant."

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The ache in your heart was too big for words, too swollen with everything he’d lost and everything you’d both somehow found again.

So you leaned in and kissed him.

Not because it made the pain go away, but because it was the only thing that ever made sense through the ache. Because he was here. Because he remembered.

Because against every odd, you had both survived long enough to find your way back.

And in the quiet that followed, when he rested his forehead against yours and breathed you in like a prayer, you knew that this soft, tentative beginning was worth every letter, every silence, every tear.

You were finally writing the rest of the story together.

Some days, you visited the Smithsonian together.

You stood beside him at the wall that once made you cry. This time, your fingers were laced with his. You watched as he stared at his own photograph, eyes tracing the younger version of himself frozen behind glass. There was a tender stillness in the way he looked at it, like he was seeing a ghost he had finally made peace with.

Then, just above a whisper, he said, “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You turned to him, eyes stinging, and squeezed his hand tighter.

Later that evening, over the soft creak of floorboards and the smell of dinner lingering in the air, you asked him quietly if he ever wanted to get rid of the letters—if maybe it was too painful to keep them.

He shook his head almost instantly.

“No,” he said, voice steady. “They’re not just letters. They’re the only part of me HYDRA couldn’t take.”

You didn’t press him. Instead, you took the box out together that night. Laid the letters across the table, smoothing them out with careful hands. Then, slowly, page by page, you tucked them into a leather-bound album—a home worthy of their weight.

Every page was a piece of a love story that should have never existed. A story folded in time, hidden between floorboards, sealed in ink and hope.

Every word proof that somehow, impossibly, you and Bucky had found each other again.

And this time, you weren’t letting go.

One evening, months later, you found another letter in the drawer.

This time, it wasn’t old.

It was new. Fresh. The envelope was crisp, the ink still slightly smudged, like it hadn’t been folded for long. You blinked in surprise, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for it, heart already thudding.

You opened it slowly, cautiously, like it might disappear if you moved too fast. Your brow furrowed in confusion at first—until you recognised the handwriting. That familiar scrawl, equal parts elegant and hurried. The same ink that had once kept you company across time.

Your lips parted in a quiet gasp, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you began to read:

Dear (y/n), I never thought I’d get the chance to say this in person. Never thought the girl on the other side of my letters would be real. But here you are. You once said you didn’t know what you meant to me. That maybe it was just a moment frozen in time. But I need you to know that you’re everything to me. The letters brought me to you. But your heart kept me here. And I plan on staying. Forever yours, James

You laughed through your tears, pressing the page to your chest as you turned toward the doorway. And there he was.

Bucky stood leaning against the frame, arms crossed, that same half-smile dancing on his lips, the same one you’d first seen in an old photograph, the one that had lit up your heart before you’d even known what it meant to see him smile for real.

“You’re such a sap,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks even as your laughter cracked through the tears.

“You love it,” he said, not even bothering to hide the warmth in his voice.

You crossed the room in three steps and threw your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He held you close, solid and warm and real, like he’d never left. Like time had finally settled into something soft enough to hold.

You kissed him then, slow and sure, and you were right.

You did love it. You loved him.

And maybe, somewhere deep down you always had.

a/n: this series will always hold a really special place in my heart, thank you for reading!

taglist: @ndanddnd @darling-eos @alikkatz @creepybake @maryssong23 @mgchaser @hiraethmae @coffeecigsandcommentary @iyskgd @silverdoragon @lori19 @counterstr1ke @cyberxlust @throwmethroughawindow @keira-kaz2y5 @herejustforbuckybarnes @tpwkyarely

[delilahsturniolo]

— ♡ 34+35 . . . m.s & c.s

in which . . . chris and matt make you take them at the same time

warnings . . . threesome, (obv no incest or interaction between matt and chris) dirty talk, unprotected sex, kissing, degradation, teasing, boob play, blowjob and oral, (fem!recieving) use of pet names.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

POSITIONS WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #2

you find yourself sandwiched between matt and chris, their naked bodies pressing against you on either side. the heat of their skin, the hardness of their muscles, and the thick, throbbing cocks pressing against your hips are almost too much to bear. you shiver with anticipation, your body already aching for their touch. matt leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "we're going to make you feel so good," he whispers, his voice low and seductive. "we're going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name, until you're begging us for more."

chris presses against you from behind, his cock nestling between your ass cheeks. "you gonna take both of us baby?" he growls, his hands running over your body, squeezing your breasts, your hips, your ass. "gonna let us fill you up fill you up and make you scream, use you like the little slut you are?" you moan at their words, your body trembling with need. you reach out, grasping their cocks in your hands, feeling the weight and heat of them. you stroke them slowly, teasingly, enjoying the way they moan and buck into your touch.

matt pulls you in for a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you. chris trails kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. you moan into matt's mouth, your hands working their cocks, feeling them twitch and pulse in your grip. "enough teasing," chris growls, his hands gripping your hips, lifting you up. "i need to be inside you." you moan as he positions you over his cock, the head nudging against your entrance. with a hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely.

you cry out at the sensation, your pussy clenching around him, trying to adjust to his size. matt leans in, his cock pressing against your lips. "open up," he commands, his voice rough with need. "i want to feel your mouth on me while chris fucks your pussy." you obey, opening your mouth and letting him slide in. you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder with pleasure. he starts to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth as chris fucks you from below.

the two of them set a punishing pace, their cocks pounding into you relentlessly. you moan and writhe between them, your body overwhelmed with pleasure. the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, the scent of sex, and the feel of their bodies against yours are driving you wild. chris's hands roam your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples. "you like that, don't you?" he growls, his hips snapping against yours. "you like being our little fuck toy, being used by us."

matt pulls out of your mouth, his cock twitching and pulsing. "i want to taste you," he pants, his hand stroking himself fast and hard. "want to feel your pussy on my tongue." they switch places smoothly, matt laying down beneath you. you sink down onto his face, his tongue delving into your pussy, lapping at your juices. chris stands in front of you, his cock bobbing in front of your face, glistening with your juices.

you lean forward, taking him into your mouth once more. the taste of yourself on his cock is intoxicating, and you moan around him. they start to move again, fucking you in tandem, their cocks sliding in and out of your holes in perfect sync. matt's tongue works your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bud. chris's hands tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as you suck him off. the sensations are overwhelming, the feel of them inside you, the taste of them on your tongue.

"fuck, your mouth feels so good," chris groans, his hips bucking into your face. "i'm gonna..cum down your throat, make you swallow every drop." matt's fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down harder onto his face. you can feel his moans vibrating through your pussy, adding to the sensations. you can feel your climax building, your body coiling tighter and tighter. with a scream, you come undone, your pussy clenching around matt's tongue, your mouth working chris's frantically. your orgasm triggers theirs, and they come with shouts of their own. you feel matt's tongue lap at your juices, drinking down your pleasure. chris's cock spurts in your mouth, his seed coating your tongue, and you swallow it down greedily.

you collapse onto the bed between them, your body spent and sated. they curl around you, their hands stroking your skin, soothing you. "that was incredible," matt whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "you were amazing," chris adds, his lips pressing against your shoulder. you smile, your heart swelling with love and happiness.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: hehee my oh my i’m excited for tomorrow’s fic :) anyway i rlly hope you guys are enjoying this so far!!

[ovadzs]

“sportscar”-

summary: you are an endlessly talented artist/model/influencer and adored by millions of fans, but remain stubbornly single. this doesn’t stop your fans from shipping you with Lando Norris, though. So your best friend (and agent) Clara decides to set some things in motion behind your back. unfortunately, what she didn’t expect was the fact that you fucking despise that man. but it’s only a week of shooting together, for his brand and for your new song: sportscar. so, how bad can it be?

word count: 7.6k

fic content/warnings: female reader, use of you/she, enemies to lovers (one sided), hate/anger, lando is kinda ooc, kinda angsty, not properly proof read!!

author notes: hi gang!! this was SO entertaining to write but longgg and exam season is KICKING MY ASS so once i’m done i have an oscar fic waiting to write 😙 (childhood friends/lovers, fluffy and with posts etc can’t wait!!) this fic is obviously based on tate posting that INSANE video in the lando jersey omg ??? also, pink haired diva Clara might be my new reoccurring character cause i LOVE herrr !! anyway enjoy

Sometimes you forget how truly famous you are. How expansive your fanbase is. An established model, with a mass following. And now you’ve just sold out your first stadium show. You never believed in those ‘I've made it’ moments, but you were sort of feeling that way.

And you managed to do all it, somewhat on your own. Sure, you had a bit of help. People you depended on. Unwavering support from your parents, and your best friend Clara-your agent. Soulmates existed, you were sure of it. She was a great example of that, and you loved her more deeply than you thought possible. She was truly your greatest friend. You meant more like, without a partner. You were too career focused, too determined, to let a man get in your way. A liability, not worth taking. You had a cat, and a fucking massive apartment, and Clara, and a family you adored. What else did you need?

Well, the fans sure didn't feel the same. They clung onto every arm in photos, every appearance. They were desperate to see you with someone, regardless of what you wanted. They really annoyed you sometimes, but you were eternally grateful. Their choice of eligible bachelor at the moment was Lando Norris, the F1 Driver. It was no secret that you enjoyed F1, because you regularly went to watch the Miami Grand Prix, occasionally making appearances at others. And you were often sporting some orange clothes, or sometimes even Lando’s iconic neon merch. So naturally, they wanted to see you together. A definite ‘power couple.’ But funnily enough, you’d never actually met him. Your social circles seemed to refuse to overlap. Sure, he commented on some posts, and vice versa. Consistent story likes and good luck messages. You’re pretty sure he attended one of your shows last year, but you don't know for certain.

However, what you did know is that you LOVED messing with your followers. So you fished through your drafts, and found a video of you in your LN4 jersey, lip-syncing to a snippet of your upcoming song, ‘Sportscar.’ Without thinking, you hit post, grinning to yourself.

And not even a minute later, it's blown up, likes and comments flooding in. And one catches your eye, from the man himself.

‘good taste.’

You smirk slightly but don’t bother to like it, you just wait for the inevitable phone call from Clara instead.

“Okay, as your unspoken social media manager, please please PLEASE!!! warn me before you start posting crazy shit.” comes her flustered voice, her surprise etched clearly on her face through the screen.

“Sorry, I had to. The comments are just SO funny.” you admit, laughing at your fan accounts literally losing their minds. Clara’s hands are stained pink from the damp hair dye in her hair, and you cackle at how overwhelmed she looks. “I promise I'll give you at least 30 seconds of warning, next time, okay?”

She huffs. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I was going to ask this yesterday and forgot, so this is perfect. I’ve been talking to Lando’s equivalent of me, I think. I don’t really know what he does. And he was hinting how brilliant a collab would be. I didn't agree to anything,” she says hurriedly, “but it would be brilliant. For us, and for them. Just think of the publicity!” she clamours, and you hear a chaotic crash behind her.

You’ve covered this before, so that's why she asks so quickly, because she knows what's coming.

“Clara, come on. You know I don’t want to do any collabs, or anything.” you say truthfully, but she just sighs as you, exasperated.

“Look, you’re like- shockingly famous and successful. You’ve made a name for yourself, and this isn’t going to change that.” she replies, and you know she's probably right, but you just can't do it.

You crave that independence, that knowledge that you’ve never thrown names around or cozied up to anyone to chase money and fame. You worked yourself to death, sleepless nights humming to yourself, sewing outfits. So you didn’t want anyone, even Norris, putting his name near yours. You could deal with the speculation, but you weren’t about to get outshone. Watch as with each photo that dropped, you slowly becoming an extension of him. Sure, you both owned your corners of the world, neither one of you more famous than the other. If anything, you were possibly more known than him. But there was something so horrifying, about your brand slowly becoming infused with foreign faces and strangers that you don't care for. You wouldn't mind having your family or Clara or your close friends dancing with you in a music video, or posing behind you in shoots. But a cash grab, a weak attempt to rise up the charts, you refused. Maybe it was petty. Maybe you were being stupid, but you didn’t care.

“Clara, it just doesn't feel right. Sure, it fits with Sportscar, and yeah maybe the fans would love it. And I'm happy to drop the occasional video or whatever, and I wouldn't even mind meeting him, but I don't want him anywhere near my name or my brand. I don't want anyone to clarify. I’m sure he’s great, it's not personal. You can tell that to HIS Clara, yeah?” you say clearly, and you see her nod, distracted.

And even though you trust her with your life, that faraway look in her eye stresses you out. There are very few things you disagree on, and this is one of them. You both know it. And you know how easily she could make a contract, and that's it. You and Lando, official partners. Of business, obviously. But she wouldn't do that, would she?

***

Funny, how varied your evenings were. Last night, typing away on your laptop, cosied up in bed, facetime Clara. Now, dressed in a tiny outfit and possibly too much makeup for such a dark space, catching the club lights on your belt buckle. You were in the poshest, most expensive club you could find, but the people inside didn't seem to reflect that. Rich, but dickheads. You wondered what you were doing there.

Clara was long gone, dancing under the lights nearby, twirling aimlessly with a group of people as wasted as her. You were often envious of how magnetic she was, easily drawing in people. You questioned how she was in the one in the shadows, and you were the famous one, prancing around on stage.

“HEY! Look who it is. Glad to finally meet you!” came a shockingly loud shout, right into your poor, unsuspecting ear.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, batting away your assailant. You turn, expecting a crazed fan, but you’re surprised to see an offended Formula One driver instead.

“Oh. Oh! Lando, hey. Sorry about that.” you reply, dropping your raised arm. He comes too close to you again, shouting back into your ear.

“It’s okay!!!!!!” he bellows, and you have to resist the urge to hit him again. He’s slurring his words slightly, and you’re almost surprised he's still standing.

“Can you maybe, not? Shout in my ear, I mean. I can hear you.” you say matter of factly, suddenly feeling much more sober. You always got more irritable when you had something to drink, and right now Lando was getting on your last nerve, even if you’d literally just met.

“Oh yeah, sorry mate. I like your outfit, shame you’re not wearing my top though.” he says simply, swaying embarrassingly to the music. You smile at him gently, trying to stop your skin from crawling. It wasn't his fault, but you seriously didn't want to be there anymore. Maybe it was something about him being such a mystery, or some wild speculation. Him, being right there, barely thinking straight, was not what you wanted to see. You didn't even know why you'd come. You always hated clubs, the music was always too loud and you preferred dancing when you knew the choreography.

“Well, thanks. Didn’t feel like being a highlighter tonight though,” you joke, but it doesn't land. Probably because your arms are folded and your voice is deadly serious.

“Huh.” he says, clearly put off. “Thought you were a fan.” he mutters, rolling his eyes at you. And maybe he's joking too, but the tension isn't right, so you just roll your eyes back at him, and he stiffens.

This was not how you imagined meeting him for the first time. It was almost weird, how dry the air was between you. You just, didnt mind him? He’d annoyed you a bit, sure, but that was forgivable. But there was no excitement, no tension, nothing.

“Do you want to dance, or something?” he asks suddenly, watching you eye up the door.

You pause, trying to be polite. “Sorry, I’m actually exhausted. I promise I'm not usually this tense, really. I’m just going to go home, but I need to let my friend know. The pink haired one, there. You see her?” you point, grinning at her as she points back between you and Lando, but you subtly shake your head at her. You hope he doesn't notice, but unfortunately for you, he does.

He straightens up by you, scowling a bit. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you around then, maybe.” he says firmly, and you just nod reassuringly. You let Clara know you’re leaving and she quickly hugs you goodbye as you make your way to the door.

As soon as you step out, and the cool night breeze hits your face, you immediately feel so much better. You almost want to apologise to Lando,since he was clearly just loud and irritatingly happy, but it's too late.

“Hey, wait up!!”

Maybe it isn't too late.

“Huh, Lando? What are you doing out here?” you ask, and he pauses for breath.

“I felt like maybe it was awkward back there? Like I was annoying you or something, and I wanted to apologise, in case I did something.” he says, still hiccuping slightly.

You laugh, it coming out colder than you intended. Like you were laughing at his average apology.

“No, it’s fine.” you say firmly, smiling gently now.

He nods, unconvinced. “So, why’d you shake your head, when fucking Pinkie-Pie in there asked about me?” he replies, sounding sort of angry. You can tell he didn't mean to offend you, but your jaw slackens.

“She prefers other animated characters. Starfire, at least. Although her personal favourite is being compared to Granmamare from Ponyo. However, her name works just fine. Clara.” you say decidedly, giving him one last chance, before you actually do get annoyed.

“Don’t know it, sorry. But hey, that's Clara, huh? She’s been in contact with my agent a lot recently, right?” he replies.

Thankful he dropped the head shake, you nod. “Yeah, but I don’t do collabs.” you murmur, still not warming up to him.

He seems to feel the same. “What, not good enough for you?” he replies snarkily, sneering at you.

“What? Of course not.” you fire back, earnestly, but he’s clearly got that into his head.

“One look at me, and you tell Clara it's not happening. One shake of the head,yeah? Not worth the time, yeah?” he continues, and hitting him crosses your mind for a second time.

“Oh, get over it! It’s not about you. You’re too loud, and too drunk. I don’t even know you, what are you doing right now? Coming up with another bullshit apology? I told you I was tired, how egotistical can you be?” you shriek, and it all comes spilling out of you.

You rarely take your anger out on anyone, but here he is. A drunk, angry, confused, Lando, who keeps fucking looking at you like you’re some elitist snob, like he isn’t filthy rich too. An easy easy target.

“Fucking hell, I chased after you because I DID want to get to know you, and thought I’d blown it just cause you’re in a bad mood. But no, turns out you’re just, mean? I’m not egotistical, just aware. Don’t try and act like I’m wrong.” he calls back, matching your volume.

You scoff loudly, stomping towards him. The air isn't dry now, it's full of venom and anger. Also, you’re freezing, and he’s evidently warm from his flushed face and the way you can feel his hot breath and the heat radiating from his body.

“I’m not mean, dickhead. You called MY best friend Pinkie-pie!!” you protest, and as soon as the words leave your mouth, you realise you’re definitely drunker than you thought.

He laughs at you, and you lose it.

“You know what, you’re right. I don’t do collabs, like ever. But I was close to thinking about reaching out to you. I thought you’d be cool, or whatever. And instead you're just a little boy, who can’t handle alcohol and bellows in people’s ear. You’re obnoxious!!” you shout, your faces practically touching.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head.

“No, no I’m not done!!” you continue, spinning away from him, laughing. “Yeah, maybe it was bullshit. I’m not tired. You just made me irritated. Like, those two lines of talking with you dampened my fucking mood. But you know what? What if I was just tired? Tired, and drunk, and walking home. And you were going to come over and what? Hound me for answers about some weird gesture I did to my friend. Call me an angry, mean, antisocial bitch?” you ask, letting all your emotions fly out viciously from your hoarse throat.

He’s visibly hurt, but also visibly impressed. He just blinks, unsure of what to do next.

“Soooo, Mr Norris. No, I will not be seeing you around, maybe. Thank fuck we aren’t collaborating together, huh? It would've been a nightmare.”

“A trainwreck.” he agrees, clearly bemused.

“Wow, glad we finally agreed on something!” you say sarcastically, turning around to begin your walk home. But you pause, flipping him off first, and you stare at him long enough to see him return the favour. And the only thing you can think to do, to essentially get the last word, is to stick your tongue out at him.

And then he's blinking again, surprised, and you speed off before you see any other of his facial expressions.

“For the record, I didn't call you a bitch.” he calls out, but you keep your finger firmly extended in the air.

***

The next day flies by, but you spend almost all of it in bed, replaying the night before. His stupid, smug, face. You actually start to hate him more now. Who was he, to think he had some claim to getting to know you?

What a pathetic little man.

You were desperate to ramble about your interaction with Clara, but she was knocked out, you presumed. She hadn’t been online for almost 18 hours.

So when her little icon changes from an offputting grey to vivid green, you grin, eagerly calling her.

“Oh my GOD Clara. He was not what I was expecting at all! Insufferable, really. I’ve been thinking about how I dodged a bullet, and I’m so seriously grateful I can avoid him indefinitely now. Might have to burn my merch.” you joke loudly, properly waking her up.

She freezes, guilt clouding her whole face. And then she bursts into the loudest fit of giggles you’ve heard in a while.

“What if I told you you didn’t dodge that bullet, like, at all? And at 10am tomorrow you have a shoot with him? Wearing his brand?” she stammers, still giggling and you feel a laugh bubble in your throat.

But when she looks at you, suddenly deadly serious, that laugh sours and viciously burns you. And you've never wanted anything more than to strangle her. So you hang up instead.

CLARA:

im sorry

lol

not that sorry

no wait yes i am

i shouldnt of gone behind ur back like that, ofc

but im not sorry that lando is an asshole

can i come watch pls

YOU:

stfu

ur lucky i havent fired you

wait

why havent i fired u yet ??

consider this a formal warning

CLARA:

hes hot tho

YOU:

??

this is ur boss

what r u talking about

CLARA:

lando ?

liek sure maybe hes annoying asf but

like***

you’ll defo look good together

YOU:

idk what ur talking about

hes not even the best looking driver on the grid

also hes punching

CLARA:

its just a shoot babe ur not betrothed

btw the contract goes both ways

ur not just modelling for him

YOU:

whatthefuckdoumean

??

clara

what did u do

…

clara this is ur boss

reply immediately

CLARA:

“boy dont make me choose”

guess whos playing said ‘boy’ in the sportscar mv

thank me later???

YOU:

oh my

please be joking

have u READ??? those lyrics

ur taking the mick

im going to kill you

this actually cant be happening

has HE READ THOSE LYRICS?

oh my god

cnacnel

abort immediately

CLARA:

10am tomorrow

ill send u the address later

enjoy x

btw u legally have to go

like u might get sued if u dont

not might, will. please go!!

YOU:

i want u on the set for sportscar too

CLARA:

umm, why? as your intimacy co-ordinator

hah im SO funny

YOU:

no

so i can run u over

you can admire him up close as you both become speedbumps

that wasnt funny btw

***

You barely sleep, and when the sun rolls into your room, you sigh, waving it away. Doomsday is a mere few hours away, and you can’t get his stupid fucking face out of your head. You actually hate him. Truly, hate him. And you hate hating people, so this really isn’t ideal.

Also, ‘sportscar’ is kind of insane, by your standards. Unhinged, maybe. You didn't even WANT to make a music video for it, but they are sort of your thing. So you thought something cool, you driving around or something. A strategic orange car (again, you enjoyed messing with fans.) but you hadn't thought about having really anyone else but you. It was an awkward video to film with anyone, sure. And you weren’t exactly, not awkward?

You raise your head from your pillow, just to throw it straight back down, exasperated. A shoot, you could get through, just. But some of the lyrics, the general impression of the song? Even you wouldn't be able to pass that off as a little joke, that was actually crazy. What was Clara THINKING? You curse her again, for the millionth time that day, and you watch the clock tick. Until you seriously do have to get up.

She’d instructed you to come with no makeup, nothing. Just show up, and his stylists would take care of the rest. The silence, the lights, flashes would all be bearable. But posing with him, fake-smiling at him? Definitely a challenge. You actually felt the life being sucked out of you at the thought. So you breathe, cracking a grin, and you let your face get used to it. Since you’d be plastering that all day.

***

The studio is nice. Modern. Not too big, but not cramped either. Plenty of make-up artists, hair stylists, designers flit around, but you aren't claustrophobic. That is until he walks in, and then suddenly the walls collapse on you.

He grins straight at you, overly cheerily, and you instinctively scowl back. Oops. Good start. In response he mimes like he’s just been shot, deeply wounded, on the brink of death. You just shake your head, rolling your eyes at his immaturity. That practiced smile, immediately disappearing.

About half an hour later, you’re both dressed and ready. You sport a more subtle LN4 themed outfit, with small details sewn throughout your matching top and bottom half. He’s wearing a more masculine outfit, in a darker colour, but you both look incredibly harmonious. And surprisingly, you realise Clara is right. You actually do sort of look brilliant together. Shame he’s so fucking annoying.

The photographer seems blissfully unaware of how much you detest the man to your right. Either he’s an idiot, or you’re an incredible actor. You assume it’s a bit of both.

So when he asks you to sit on a block beside Lando, and rest your head carefully on his chest, you almost start a riot.

Lando winks at you, and you swear you might just kill him, right there on camera. But you just breathe, not looking at him any longer, and you smile gently for the flash in front of you.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asks, murmuring into your ear. It's an improvement from when he deafened you, but you hate how close he is.

“Immensely so.” you hiss back, and he laughs at you bitterly.

So you decide to ram your pretty large heel straight into his foot, bitterly. And although he doesn't yelp, like you hoped, he grimaces and you feel him stiffen. Good enough.

“Sorry, are you uncomfortable? You sure look uncomfortable.” you whisper back, and you watch his bared teeth shift into a dazzling smile. ANd you realise Clara is right, yet again. A theme you were not liking. But admittedly, he was attractive. And that just made you even more annoyed.

The rest of the day went by about the same. You basically either looked like you wanted to die, or you wanted him to die, until you heard the click. Then you were smiling, like you actually didn’t mind staring at him warmly as the photographer walked around you.

Then came an unexpected brief- just talk naturally. Candids, they wanted. So they positioned you next to each other, spread out on the same sleek couch, your legs occupying the same small space, and told you to have a conversation.

You had nothing you wanted to say to him, so you waited for him to speak first. So he did.

“You truly are a professional, huh?” he comments, a permanent gleam in his eyes.

“Can’t say the same for you. I wouldn’t quit your day job.” you snap back, absent-mindedly.

“Wasn’t going to. I love racing.” he replies, shrugging, and you decide to give him a moment of respite from your disgusting looks and harsh words.

“Okay, that's common ground. Let's talk about it, alright? That way he’ll get his photos, and I can get out of here.” you say firmly, and he cocks his head to the side, staring at you inquisitively.

“Alright. Sure. So, what’s your favourite race you’ve been to?” he asks, and you pause.

“Miami, last year, was pretty good.” you admit, forgetting one crucial detail about that race.

He didn't, though. His eyebrows shoot up, hidden behind his curly hair.

“Are you kidding? My first race win, and that’s your favourite. And I thought you HATED me! Hah.” he laughs, triumphantly, and you groan.

“Shut up. And I didn’t hate you then. Cause I didn't know you then.” you say slowly, not realising how truly harsh your words are.

“You don’t even know me, now.” he replies, not missing a beat.

“I know enough.” you shoot back simply, but he just shakes his head at you, exasperated.

“You really don’t. Come on, you could give me another chance.” he mutters, and you hum back at him.

“Yeah, I could. But I pay a lot of attention to first impressions.” you fire back, and he smiles slightly.

“Pretty sure you flipped me off and then stuck your tongue out at me all in the space of two seconds, and I don’t hate you, so?” he sighs, and you just roll your eyes at him, suppressing your own smile.

‘I don't hate you, so.’

You think deeply, ignoring him getting up. Ignoring the photographer packing up. It isn’t until Lando sticks his calloused hand directly above you, helping you up, that you realise you’re finally done. How relieving.

And you take it gracefully, hoisting yourself up. But you just can’t help it. His smirking face. So you yank him backwards, throwing him back onto the couch, and you burst into laughter. The only genuine smile you’ve shown all day. And then you hear it, and you freeze. That stupid click.

And you see that idiot photographer, his face literally beaming. Like he’s just won the lottery. And as you admire the bewildered expression on Lando's face, you realise he has. It’s a great shot.

***

And two days later, your end of the bargain is over. You don’t give Clara any updates. You refuse. She doesn’t deserve the drama. All you tell her is that he’s as annoying as you expected, and you still truly loathe him, but you like his team. And it's funny, making fun of him. You tell her you preferred the Quadrant half of the deal, since you met the designer. How you thought she would love her. And how much you hate her for what’s happening at the weekend.

That’s when he messages you.

LANDO:

so

whats sportscar actually about?

me??

YOU:

ew no

i thought i blocked u??

get out my dms

LANDO:

harhar

seriously

drop those lyrics

YOU:

you don’t like surprises?

LANDO:

no,i do, but i see the way u look at me when i mention it

like u wanna scratch my eyes out

so go on

YOU:

u asked for it

*photo

LANDO:

oh

i see

that will be fun

YOU:

careful

or i actually will block u

LANDO:

no u wont

your fans will notice

and then u cant randomly drop references of me anymore

which u clearly love to do

YOU:

“harhar”

goodbye lando

LANDO:

see u soon

YOU:

unfortunately

***

The weekend came too soon. No one knew just how much content you and Lando were about to drop. You’d agreed to drop the music video simultaneously with his new collection, so the explosion happened once, and you could face the aftermath together.

And this time, when you arrived at your own studio, your own set, you felt much more relaxed, even though the filming was much more daunting. This was your team. Photos of you and them scattered around. Your favourite director, waving at you. Costumes and lights and greenscreens. Your name, on a door. Clara’s, beside yours. So when he walks in, scouring the scene, your stomach sours. You’d almost forgotten he was coming, to disrupt the peace.

“So, your turf, huh?” he announces, reading your mind.

“Yup. You ever been in a music video before, Norris?” you ask, arms folded.

“Nope.” he replies honestly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. And for a moment, a tiny moment, you think he might just be a little bit nervous.

“Well, you’ll be fine, I'm sure. I said Clara could look after you. She’s more of a fan than I am.” you joke, signalling her over.

She practically skips over, grinning at you. “She’s lying. Not a clue who you are, really. She’ll never drag me to a stupid race. I just called you hot once. To annoy her, may I add. Alright ‘boy’, let's go.” she says rapidly, but choosing to drag the word ‘boy’ heavily, glaring at you.

“Hey, Pinkie-pie. I was looking forward to meeting you, truly. I would've introduced myself the other night, but we all know how that went.” he replies, mimicking her dramatic tone, and she laughs at him. And you hate that they immediately fit together, really well. There's no fire in his eyes when he looks at her, only light.

And she drags him away, so you sidle up to your director. Bardia smiles at you.

“I must admit, I was surprised that you brought Lando here. I didn’t realise you were actually together, I thought it was a big joke.” he huffs, and you stare at him, absolutely horrified.

“Please, never say that again. Lando and I are NOT together- that would be- actually-” you begin, trying not to gag. You’re glad disgust is your main emotion, because for a brief moment you were worried there. That maybe you didn’t hate him anymore. But with what you feel at that suggestion, you’re reassured that you do still detest that man.

He looks at you, confused. “You know we’re filming for ‘sportscar,’ today. Yes? As in, this song.” he begins, playing it from the speakers. And when you watch Lando hear it for the first time and his breath hitches, you find yourself pausing too.

“Yes, I know. Don’t remind me. Clara was an idiot. But seriously, we’re just acquaintances.” you stress, trying not to listen to your own voice.

He scoffs. “Fine, I’ll cut out some of the ideas I had. They definitely won't work if you don't get along, but you’ll have to act like you’re together, alright?”

You blink and nod, trying not to think of what ideas he was thinking of.

***

You love Bardia’s vision, as usual, and paired with Brett’s styling, you both look admittedly phenomenal. And other than a brief moment, when you accidentally exploded at him for getting in your way (you said a lot of things that were unbelievably cruel), it goes quite well. Although, after your outburst, he seemed to shrink a bit. He didn’t argue back, just listened to instructions. Pulled faces when you needed him to. And honestly? You liked him more like that. You were just happy to be almost done with him.

A lot of it was solo work, or you and a few backup dancers. So you made an effort to not watch him and Clara joke off set, laughing to each other. You just focused on the carefully curated choreography, satisfied when you hit each beat. But because you weren't looking at him, you didn't see him looking at you. Staring. His laughs to Clara were absent-minded. He focused entirely on each move you made, admiring your determination. Your subtle skill.

Bardia always shot in chronological order, so you were fucking finally nearing the end of the song, and your torture could end. So when you catch Clara staring at you wide-eyed as he tells her his plans for the outro, you realise this was going to become an actual nightmare.

A train wreck, as someone you know would say.

She rushes over to you as you sip on some water, trying to avoid eye contact with Lando.

“You’re about to blow up again.” she announces, a disgusting smile stretching up her face.

“What.” you say sullenly.

“How comfortable are you sitting on Lando’s lap?” she asks wickedly, and your jaw drops.

“Um, that isn’t happening?” you reply quickly.

“Well, you wrote it in. ‘We can share one seat,’ and all that.” she sings, and you drop your head into your hands.

“No, I refuse to do that.” you respond, shrugging.

“Huh, Lando said you’d refuse. Funny, knows you better than you think.”

“No, he just knows I hate him.” you mutter, shaking your head profusely.

“I don’t think it's that. He thinks you’re scared of him. That you don’t want to be too close to him, but not because you hate him. He’s very cocky, I’ll admit that.” she says, shrugging back.

“You’re JOKING. He doesn’t think it's that, trust me.” you shriek back, and she nods sarcastically.

“I think I’ve spoken to him more in the last half an hour than you have, well, ever. He definitely thinks you’re into him.” she laughs, and you get very very angry again.

“Well, he can fuck off. Fucking idiot. Tell Bardia I want this done, so let's hurry up.” you mumble, and Clara runs off. And across the room, you meet his stare, and you shake your head incredulously at him. He just blinks back.

***

“How come you’re looking at me so funny?” he asks, sitting comfortably in the driver's seat of the car they’d rolled onto set.

While you were dancing, they’d done some outdoor scenes with him, and you’d heard him rambling about the drifting he’d done, grinning about the car. He did look like he belonged behind the wheel -in all fairness.

“Because Clara told me about your stupid ideas.” you mutter, ignoring the confusion on his face as you clamber over the gap between the passenger seat.

“Um, okay. This is new. What ideas?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably as you climb onto him, trying to hide your awkwardness.

“That I was into you.” you huff, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I didn't say that, but you are literally all over me.” he responds, sitting up straighter. He gently lifts your legs, giving him space to move to get comfortable, and you pretend to ignore how his hands burn your bare skin.

“Oh, come on.” you say, turning to face him. But the genuine innocence on his face is so believable you actually realise what happened.

Clara was SO lucky they had started recording. You’d never hated her so much as you did right now.

His comment earlier about you being a professional was absolutely correct though, and you were proving it. You sang along quietly, so quietly that Lando was probably the only person who could hear you, but it kept you on beat.

And every word you moved, leaned, gestured. To anyone watching, it would seem like you belong there, your limbs intertwined with his. That he isn’t making you uncomfortable, no, merely the opposite. That you dont want anything more than to get away from him, the skin to skin contact actually driving you insane. And with each thought, with each shiver, you press further into him, feeling the music. It was your song, after all. Clara was right, you had written this in. And as much as you despise her, that snake, you are absolutely loving the bizarre look you are getting from Lando. He has a cap on, that matched your top, and that was very lucky for him. Because he was, like you’d said, NOT a professional. His obvious confusion, and the way he kept looking away from you, was hilarious. So you pull down his cap, so it almost completely covers his face, meaning his curls poke out the back.

“Stop blushing, Norris. And stop looking like you want to run away. I’m trying my very best to act like I don't want to throw up right now, please do the same.” you whisper, your lips grazing his ear.

He doesn’t respond, but he reacts instead. He throws the cap off his head, as if to prove to you he isn’t flushed, but you’re not very convinced.

“Brilliant. We got exactly what we needed. I can’t think of a better scene for the outro, really. You should pay Clara for her originality, alongside her services. IF I’m not careful, she’ll be taking my job soon.” jokes Bardia, and if looks could kill, the one you shoot Clara would’ve had her dead instantly.

You practically leap off Lando, like he was burning you, and you charge straight for her.

“You need to fuck off, Clara.” you say, seething.

You very very rarely argue, and you’ve never been so mad at her, so this was new. This hostility. Between her and Lando, you couldn’t tell who was worse.

She looks taken aback. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just, I thought it was funny. I was going to tell him to change his plan, but he had a vision by then, and you’d already got on set-” she starts, but you just shake your head at her.

“Cut the bullshit apology. You’ve been such a pain about this whole thing. I let it go, that you even did this, and I shouldn’t have. But I did, because I love you. And every fucking day that I spent angry, and irritable, and stressed, I tried to not blame you. I think that's why I hated him so much. Because I just didn't want to be mad at you, because I NEED YOU. You’ve always been there. One of the few people I trust with my life. And you stabbed me in the fucking back. And here I am, anxious and angry and way out of my depth, and then you pulled out the knife, just to stab me again. But yeah, hope that was real fucking funny.” you shout, ignoring her cringing eyes and the sudden silence of the room.

“Leave Pinkie-Pie alone, yeah? Come on, let's get some water or something.” comes a voice, and a hand on your shoulder. And why he thought you’d want to talk to him, of all fucking people, is absurd.

“Her name is Clara. You two aren’t friends, unless you’re part of some fucking club to piss me off, maybe? I do not need you wading in here, okay? Leave me the fuck alone. We’re done, contracts over. Video launches in a week, and that's it. Never have to speak to each other again, Norris. Let's start now. Get out of here, please.” you snarl, not looking him in the eyes.

You pause.

“Actually, no. I’ll leave. You two can have a chat or something, maybe about how else you can go behind my back, and how you can then make me want to shoot myself!” you shout, shrugging, looking from Clara to Lando. And you turn and storm out, practically running home.

***

Its ‘sportscar’ release day. You've seen the video. It was actually great. And setting the emotions aside, the ending made sense. But you can't really watch it, past the first minute, without wanting to scream. So you don’t.

The fans however? They go mental. Like, inconsolable. Losing their minds.

Comments flood in, endless. All the same, your name and Landos. A few, about the song being great. A few, crediting the designers of Lando’s new merch, but it's a few. And it's exactly what you knew was going to happen, that you were so upset by.

Everyone, violent and relentless.

‘‘The way they look at each other!”

“this is an insane hard launch omfgg??”

“wait , r they actually together?”

“I KNEW IT.”

“Lando, one chance please.”

“They look so good together”

“i just died omfg”

Millions. Literally millions of comments all like that. And you hate it, that you were so not in control of this. That now, everyone thought you were dating a man you didn't even like. Someone who had made last week one of the hardest of your life. Every comment, a reminder of Clara, laughing. But you didn’t want to let everyone view you like this. So you had to do something.

Photos, videos. Of you and Lando, at each other's throats. Your arguments. Someone had even managed to get a video of you from that night when you first met. So you made a somewhat innocent photo dump, throwing in the occasional fight. In a way that genuinely presented you both as insufferable.

Your caption was harsh, but honest. “Crazy couple of weeks. Nice to meet Norris finally, but didn’t expect him to be so annoying!!. Anyway, hope you all like ‘sportscar!’ thanks everyone xx” landonorris

He commented almost immediately.

“yeh, crazy is a good word. thanks for the new experience. sorry for being such a pain in the ass.”

It was sad. Not even that flippant. And you almost, almost, felt bad. Your anger, maybe misplaced. But, he was still undeniably annoying. Regardless if he deserved your wrath or not, that was still true. It always was going to be.

But someone who definitely DID deserve your anger was Clara. You hadn’t spoken since, which was shockingly unusual for you two. But you were hurting, and she still hadn’t really apologised.

CLARA:

hi! i know you probably dont want to talk, but can u open the door? can we talk anyway?

You huff, and get up. Classic. She hated knocking, never did. She just came in. She literally had a key.

You open the door, to see her sad face. Red, probably from exhaustion. She didn't cry often.

“Come in.”

And she does, sitting on your sofa.

“Look, I’m so so sorry. Like really. I just, I didn’t think about how you were feeling. I just thought about the numbers. And, you know, you. I thought that maybe you only hated him so much because you liked him, and you were scared. It wouldn’t be the first time. And, look, I know this is awful of me, but you know I’ve always loved meddling. And I didn’t say it back, but I love you too. Always. You’re literally my sister, and I don't know what I’d do without you. I mean, this week nearly killed me. I know forgiving me won't be easy, but I didn't have malicious intentions. Yeah, maybe I thought it would be humorous. I didn't think you really hated him that much, that you'd say yes just to prove him wrong.That's unlike you, really. I was surprised.” she explains, her voice cracking.

“I just, the fans, you know. They wanted it so badly. It seemed almost unreal. I don’t know, I just thought you were making a big deal out of nothing. And although I could totally see how and why he pissed you off, he was more tolerable than I was expecting. “ she finishes shakily, and you really stare at her.

Her bloodshot eyes. Her messy pink hair, plaited lazily. Still dressed in her favourite pyjamas, like she came here in a frenzy. Like this was eating her up. And you just couldn’t. You just couldn’t let this ruin you.

So you hug her tightly, feeling her melt into your shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’ll be okay.” you murmur reassuringly. And you realise that you will be, definitely.

“You didn't give me 30 seconds, by the way. Again. Before you posted that clear hatepost.” she mutters, her voice muffled.

You laugh. “Yep, sorry. The shipping was annoying. Thought that might make them back off.”

She sighs. “You don’t know your fans at all, do you? They think you rejected him, or something. Or you’re keeping it a secret. Or it was a joke, to cause drama. But most of them just think you’re madly in love, so. This isn’t going away. I’m sorry.”

***

Miami weekend. Upcoming anniversary of your favourite race, was how Lando was thinking of it. And you were coming. You’d been spotted around, a week early. Lando was also here early, because he loved Miami too.

You didn’t know that, though. So you weren’t expecting to bump into him in the city, surrounded by people in the busy street right by the track.

“Oh. Lando. Hi.” you say briskly, trying to walk on, but he stops you.

“Coming for the race? I’m going to win again, you know. Unless that would annoy you.” he replies, smiling weakly, but you know he doesn't mean it. That comment clearly hurt.

“Yeah, I am. Have your new hoodie in my bag, if you don’t mind me wearing it.”

He shrugs. “Of course not. Assuming Pinkie-Pie isn’t with you, I can get you into the garage, if you want.”

You pause. “No, don’t worry. And, you know I only posted that to try and shut up some of the fans. I didn't mean it.”

“Yeah, you did. It's okay. And I’m assuming you don't want to be seen with me then? All these fans, taking photos. Sorry. I’ll let you go now.” he nods, and he drops your hand. You hadn’t even realised he was holding it.

Shit, that wasn’t going to help, was it? Suddenly, you're hyperaware of everyone. Cameras, fans laughing and pointing, waiting for Lando to sign caps, or for a photo with you.

“You know, I’m sorry we can’t be friends. You know, maybe if we’d met differently. If we weren't stuck doing those stupid shoots. If we’d met, like here. Naturally. If the fans hadn’t built us into something. I don't know.” you mumble, thinking, and turning away.

“Well, I realised I didn’t want to be friends, like after we first met too.”

That takes you by surprise.

“Huh, was it the head shake? Or the middle finger? Or calling us an inevitable nightmare?” you ask, teasing. You walk back towards him, interested in what he was going to reply.

He shakes his head. “No, I meant I didn't want to be friends.” he responds, lowering his voice.

Oh.

And before you have time to figure out what to say back, or if you can run away, he looks directly at you.

“You know what? Fuck it.” he mutters, and then he’s right there. His face, right against yours. But he doesn’t move, just stares at you expectantly.

“Tell me not to. Push me away. Hiss in my face, tell me how fucking annoying I am. How much you hate me. Say it, right now, and I’ll fuck off. Genuinely, you’ll never see me again, like you wanted.” he whispers, daring you.

And you look at him, dead in the eyes. Admiring his curly hair, and the slight nervousness etched on his smile. And your heart is beating so loudly, it drowns out all the things you could say to him. So you say nothing.

And that's what he wanted. His lips crash onto yours, and your hands snake around his neck and into the bottom of his hair, while he wraps himself around you. You can feel him grinning against your mouth, and you pull away to laugh at him, and he laughs with you.

And he seems a lot less annoying when you go back to kiss him again.

[bedlam-barbie]

Attention

Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x recruiter!fem!reader ; slight Salesman x fem!reader

Warnings: jealous!In-Ho; slightly obsessive!In-Ho; slightly suggestive themes and words: yearning; angst; probably ooc!In-Ho

Word count: ~4k

Author’s note: sooo this is my first fanfiction I have written in 10 years, what this man does to me… I needed some more recruiter!reader as I am so obsessed with the idea. I also included the Salesman as he is my other guilty pleasure. I deeply want to write a part 2 , let me know if you are interested!

Hwang In-Ho had always hated clubs. He hated the obnoxious music. He hated the smell of sweat and desperation. He hated people pushing into each other. He hated the shameless displays of people grinding and almost taking their clothes in the middle of the dance floor. He hated the cheap liquor diluted with water. He hated random people getting it on in those disgusting toilets. It was safe to say, In-Ho would rather be anywhere else than there. 

But there was one thing he didn’t hate about it. 

Her hair was bouncing to the rapid rhythm, her body somehow knowing how to sway to every beat of every song, sending him into a trance. She would always make eye contact with him lip syncing to the filthiest lyrics. Her lips always painted in a beautiful red color almost begging him to come over and taste them. It was almost like their own ritual. He would sit at their reserved table in a leather armchair, nursing a glass of whiskey, while she would be just within his eye reach dancing, a mischievous look behind those oh so pretty eyes. 

But tonight was different. Tonight, unless absolutely having to, she would not look at him, not address him. It was like In-Ho was not worthy of her attention. He was aware he fucked up, that was the whole reason he even showed up to this God forsaken rats’ nest. The more she ignored him, the more starved he became, a combination of anger and hurt playing at his heartstrings. 

Lust and guilt coiled tightly within him, indistinguishable from one another. She wasn’t just beautiful—her beauty was deliberate, a weapon she wielded with precision. And him, unarmed and unprepared, stood squarely in her sights. He should’ve looked away. He didn’t. In-Ho took another sip of the whiskey as he watched her dance with him as he contemplated what has brought him to this specific moment.

It was a sunny morning in Seoul, a rare occurrence in the grey autumn. He looked over at the other side of the bed, finding her sleeping peacefully. She was sleeping on her back, her beautiful hair splattered on the black satin pillow. Her chest was slowly rising and falling, his white crisp shirt covering almost nothing of her perfect figure. For the first time since he had met her 3 years ago, she looked delicate, youthful, carefree. Gone were the sassy attitude, the makeup, the expensive clothes and her sharp tongue. In-Ho placed a soft kiss between her breasts as he made his way out of the bed into the shower. 

The smell of her skin, the sound of her voice moaning, the softness of her delicate body, they were all stuck in his mind, as well as her little love confession. He was planning to get started on breakfast, make some coffee, treat her like a princess. As he exited his shower, he took a look at his phone, making sure he hadn’t missed any important work-related calls. The games were going to start in just over a week and everything had to be perfect. That’s when he saw the date. 

25th of October.

In-Ho’s heart dropped as he read it over and over again. No, it wasn’t possible. The 25th was going to be in a few days. He franticly opened his calendar checking again.

And again online.

And again, on his physical one.

And all over again on his phone.

He felt a rush of panic wash through him. Hwang In-Ho was not a man that panicked. Or a forgetful man. Ever. But even so the thought was plaguing his mind: He had forgotten. How could have that happened? Afterall, it was the anniversary of his wife’s death. He would always buy her flowers on the 25th. He would always bring them over to her grave. He would always spend at least 2 hours speaking to her, to her and their unborn child. 

Well, until now, he did at least. Uncontrollable anger burned through his mind. Anger at himself, anger at her. He was supposed to be at the cemetery. Not saying yes to her invite to have some drinks at the bar near their work. Not letting a spoiled insane subaltern seduce him with her long lashes and playful smiles. Not fucking said stupid girl who was two whole decades younger than him. 

He didn’t even realize when she sneaked behind him, putting her arms around his waist and smiling into his back.

“Good morning, handsome” her voice whispered softly. 

The sweetness in her voice made his heart flutter. Which in turn, made him even more inexplicably angry. His body tensed up under her touch and he pushed her arms away. 

“Someone woke up to the wrong side of the bed” she teased.

Under any other circumstance, he would have been amused. She would always tease him and he quite frankly found it as endearing as it also turned him on.

“It’s time for you to go” In-Ho replied coldly.

He could see her tense up as well. Her hands crossed over her body. His dress shirt which he found so unbelievably hot on her earlier now looked like a painful reminder of his own shame.

“Excuse me?” her voice was controlled but she was hiding her built up anger as well.

“I said, you should leave. You were great last night and everything, but let’s not treat it as if it was more than us scratching an inch.” His voice was measured and he looked into her eyes. He could see she was hurt by his words. Damn it, he hated seeing her in pain. 

“In-Ho, you said you loved me last night. You told me how long you’ve waited to say it, to kiss me. You kissed me as if you were dying and I was the only thing that could save you.” 

God, she was right. He did and say it all, and he did mean it. His face was cold unenterable.

“Maybe you should not listen to what old perverted men like me tell you. God, your father really did a number on you if you are dumb enough to sleep with any old men.” In-Ho knew his words would hurt her, but he needed her to stay away. It was better like this. The anger he harbored in that moment for himself and for her would only end in one way: violence. And while he was all for rough play, he would not touch her in that way. 

“I called you a taxi already”

Smack

The sound of her hand hitting him across the face echoed in the penthouse. His jaw clenched, his eyes suddenly burning of desire. The thoughts of his wife finally stopped and there was nothing but silence. Without giving it another thought, his palms found her cheeks pulling her into a desperate hungry kiss. He felt her body tense up and she pulled away.

Smack

Her eyes were burning of unspoken anger and pain, some tears threatening to fall. She angrily spit in his face. It took him by surprise. Everything was so quick.

“Fuck you” she whispered.

She turned around grabbing the remains of her dress and heels and she hurried out. She looked almost pathetic. Her figure gathering everything in the stupid white shirt. To him, she never looked so small, so broken and his heart almost ached. When she left, silence took over completely. In-Ho knew he screwed up, badly, but in that second, her feelings were the last thing on his mind. 

The next time they met was just after the games, earlier tonight. She had not tried contacting him after the incident and neither did he. Whether it was guilt or his shame it did not matter. He poured it all into the games. In-Ho tried to pretend it was just another incident that did not affect him in the slightest. At the end of the day, she was just another employee, another recruiter. He promised himself he would never betray the memory of his wife again. As long as he did not see her it was fine.

Then it came the celebration. Oh Il-Nam decided for everyone in the company to meet for dinner and a poker night at one of the most reputable places in Seoul. Their blackjack table was set apart from the others in a private room overlooking the city. It was a tradition after all, every year after the end of the games, they would come together to celebrate it. As he was very much aware, that would probably be the last one hosted by Il-Nam and as Frontman and the next in line to take his place as the Host, he knew it was mandatory for him to attend regardless of personal feelings.

At first, he told himself that it was fine. That he will see her again and they would both be acting professional for the sake of Il-Nam. While she was an attention seeker through and through, In-Ho was not about to grant her the satisfaction of regretting his choices. As expected, he was one of the first ones to arrive. One by one all appeared before the scheduled time 20:00. His heart quickened as the arrival time came and went but she was not there. He scoffed to himself. Of course she was late, always making an entrance, always captivating the eye of every man that dared to breathe in her presence. In Ho liked to lie to himself and say it never affected him like that. Sure, she was stunningly beautiful, but she was just another woman. And then she did finally appear.

Dressed in a mini black Yves Saint Laurent dress hugging every curve of her body, her red bottom heels clicking as she made her entrance. Her signature red lipstick and blow out making her look utterly ethereal. She had a black leather trench that one of the valets quickly pulled down. She was wearing tight high stockings and for a few seconds, In-ho forgot how to breathe. The officer looked at him knowingly and handed him a glass of whiskey.

She was a storm that commanded surrender, and everyone fell willingly.

Throughout the whole night, she did not even glance once towards him. She sat down next to the Salesman. God, how he disliked that one. In-Ho saw him as nothing more than a psychopath. A useful psychopath, but none the less, a psychopath. He never even bothered to know his name, for him it did not matter, he was as important like a gum stuck onto his shoe. He could remark that he was a loyal one though, every year bringing one of the biggest number of recruits for the games, as big as the ones she did. After all, he was the one that recruited him as well. He supposed his disdain for the man came from that. 

As dinner finished, the mandatory game of blackjack started. At this point it was tradition. It was Il-Nam’s favorite game and as it was most probably the last year he would take part in it; he saw it as proper to participate. However, he could not concentrate on the game. He heard her giggle, and his eyes instinctively went to find her.

In-ho saw her arrange the Salesman’s tie, while whispering seductively in his ear, her hand touching his chest for a little more time than necessarily. He felt himself getting angry as he saw the perfectly manicured hands traveling onto the other man’s body. It was not like he has not seen it before. He was perfectly aware of her flirtatious manners, at the end of the day, she acted the same way towards him. So why was he getting so irrationally angry?

“I win again. At this point, you guys have to try a little harder, it is getting exhausting to keep on seeing you lose” she said smugly as she dragged the tokens towards her, a smirk playing on her perfect lips.

“And what do I win, if I may be so indiscreet?” the Salesman’s voice purred close to her ear. 

“Children, behave, there are elders present” In-Ho’s voice rang before he could control it. He was starting to get irritated by the sound of his stupid voice.

“Oh, In-ho, it’s fine. I think it is rather exciting to raise the stakes. You know how these young ones are, they would do anything for the thrill” Il-Nam’s voice said amused. “And after all, I think they would make quite a dashing pair.”

Jealousy coiled in his chest like a venomous snake, hissing and writhing with every stolen glance he dared to throw at her. What did he even mean? The Salesman was 42 for god’s sake, and she was 25! It was not as if they were witnessing some sort of young exciting love story. No, it was a psychopath and a brat trying to get his attention. However, he gave a cold smile towards the pair and returned to his hand, wishing this night would end already. He had no idea that it was just getting started.

After about two hours, Il-Nam announced that he would be leaving. And that was the moment, In Hu knew things were about to take a turn. Until that moment, everything between her and the Salesman were casual touches. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he was aware of her intentions to make him suffer in every way she could imagine, and he was not about to let her succeed. 

“Full house” her voice sang. 

She won. Again. It would have been impressive if it was not so annoying. Did she have to be so good at everything? In Hu thought gritting his teeth. It was unfair how natural everything came to her. She was the most interesting and exciting person he had ever met. Every single move was perfectly executed with grace laced by playfulness, her fingers intertwined with a martini glass in one hand and a cigarette in another. Every time her lips pressed to the filter fascinated the Frontman completely. Every strand of hair framing her soft features, reminding him of the night they spent together.

“Not going to lie, you guys are really boring” she said raising an eyebrow. “But since I won again, I propose the following, you each owe me a drink at a place of my choosing.” 

“And where would that be?” The Officer asked.

“Oh, I want to go dancing” she smirked as she left the martini glass on the table.

“Dancing? I would rather shoot myself” In-Ho scoffed. 

“I’m sorry, did you win? No, I didn’t think so” she said looking straight into the man’s eyes.

 If looks could kill, he would have been a dead man. 

“Well, I for one would love to take you anywhere you wanted. A deal is a deal” the Salesman added, his hand slipping on her exposed back.

While going to a club was the last thing that In Hu wanted, he was not going to let him take her out of his sight. He clenched his jaw tightly. He thought about how easy it would be to simply pull out his gun on that psychopath’s head and simply end it right now. God why did she have to make it so messy? While replaceable, he thought about the hassle he would have to go through to find another man to take his job and actually do it as well. No, killing the Salesman would only create more problems for himself, but the image of her pretty face being covered in a quick splash of his blood was tempting. 

“Fine. Let’s go.”

And now there he was, watching her like a hawk, toying with his drink, while she was dancing with someone he should had squished like a bug, the second he got in power. No matter, in all due time, he would be gone. His beautiful muse was swaying seductively to the beat of the song while playing with the Salesman’s tie, her eyes hungry for more. In Hu knew that look well. It was the same look she had in her eyes while she was on top of him just a few weeks ago. Hungry, desperate, mischievous. 

“So, are you going to do something or let that piece of trash get your woman?” the Officer inquired pulling the Frontman out of his spell.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” In Hu replied coldly downing the rest of the drink. He had asked the bartender for the whole bottle; he knew he would need it the second they entered. He lit up a cigarette while pouring another glass, his eyes still stuck on the two of them.

“Come on, you look ready to jump and kill him on the spot” the other man said lighting up a cigarette of his own. While technically not allowed on the premises of the club, what were they going to do? Kick them out? 

“Maybe I will” 

“We both know that would be unwise. And besides, I’ve seen her stealing glances at you, that is exactly what she wants. So do all of us a favor and fuck her good, cause if you don’t… I just know he would make sure she screams.”

“Mind your tongue, Officer.”

“Come on man, we both know her type. Bitches like her need to know their place.”

The second the words came out of his mouth, In hu took his cigarette from his lips swiftly and extinguished it on the back of the man’s hand. He would not have anyone speak that way, not of her. The Officer winced in surprise but did not have the courage to say another word. This was a warning.

“Next time I will not be so nice about it. Speak another ill word about her and I just might shatter a glass and cut that finger of yours off. Or better yet, your tongue.”

His eyes went back to the show in front of him. There was his woman, dancing now on the top of the bar with a bottle of Don Perignon champagne. Her smile was big and seductive, her moves perfectly rehearsed. God, the more he looked at her the more stunning she looked. Her skin glistened under the club light. Her hair once styled to perfection was bouncing around wildly to the music. She moved effortlessly, like gravity was an afterthought, and the air around her seemed taut, tethered to her presence by an invisible string.

Seeing her like that, made his heart flutter. She truly was spectacular. And for a second, she looked at him again. He could have sworn the planet stopped spinning in that moment. Everyone else fading into darkness as if they were the only two people in the world. 

“Do you believe in true love?” Her question surprised him.

It was the night they met randomly in the bar by the office. In Hu was dressed in a jet-black Versace suit, his hair slicked backed. Expensive shoes were slowly tapping to the sound of jazz music in the background. He took a moment before he responded, his face staring into his empty glass. 

“If you had asked me this 5 years ago, I would have said yes.”

“And now?”

“Only sometimes. Usually when I look at you.” 

His words surprised even himself. Maybe it was the one too many glasses of whiskey, or the way she looked at him from behind those doe eyes. Maybe it was the way her knee was slightly touching his or her scent. Amber and vanilla. Always amber and vanilla, sometimes with a faint cigarette smell. She smiled and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. If only she knew the effect she had on him, he would never hear the end of it.

“Now, Sir, maybe you should stop speaking like that or I might start to believe you are in love with me”

In Hu did not respond but a smirk appeared on his lips. He leaned over to her and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. His palm then travelled onto her cheek finally resting by her lips. She looked at him, a seductive grin taking form. Carefully, she kissed his palm, and each finger, while maintaining the Frontman’s gaze. When done with her little show, she lightly took his thumb in her mouth slowly sucking on it.

“Tsk tsk, little dove, careful what you wish for” he warned her, his face stern but feeling his heart rate go slowly upwards. 

Her eyes effortlessly left his, her attention peaked by the Salesman’s voice, breaking their trance. As soon as he no longer felt her gaze, In-Ho made up his mind. He had made a mistake, one that he would do anything to fix. While he hated the way the Officer spoke about her, he was right about one thing. She was his woman after all, and this cat and mouse game was getting old. He was man enough to admit that he had lost against her and now all he wanted was to take her to his bed and fuck her hard to show her who she belonged to. He got up the sofa just as he saw her get down from the bar. 

“Finally,” the Officer muttered.

“Did I not make myself clear last time?”

In Hu’s voice snapped glaring at his colleague, taking his eye off her for just a second. His gaze went back to the spot he had left her but she was no longer there. In the dark he saw a glint of the back of her dress leaving towards the side of the bar. The Frontman finished his drink and made his way to follow her. He was not even sure what to say to her, he had never acted impulsively before. Every single one of his actions had been perfectly calculated for the past few years. 

Lost in thought he had caught up with her. That’s when he saw the scene unfolding in front of him. Her back was pressed against the wall, her hands folded around the Salesman’s neck, fingers tangled into his dark black hair. His woman’s legs were resting around his torso. He could make out the man’s face buried deep into her neck kissing it sloppily, her head tilted slightly on the side, a soft moan escaping her beautiful lips. And then she looked straight ahead into In Hu’s eyes. A sarcastic smile played on her mouth. Fuck you, her eyes said before capturing the Recruiter’s lips in a passionate kiss, her beautiful legs pulling him in closer to her own body.

The Frontman froze for a few seconds as he watched them kiss as if there was no tomorrow, their bodies busy in a seductive tango. Anger and jealousy danced within his veins fueling his body completely. Not now, he thought desperately trying to keep his mask of coldness from cracking under the club lights. But deep inside he also felt the familiar sting of a feeling he long ago buried. 

Pain. Gut wrenching pain. 

[breathinlove]

sticky fingers ellie williams

read this

synopsis: you and your best friend got popsicles on a hot day, but ellie finishes hers first.

cw: swearing, dialogue heavy at first, homoerotic friendship i fear, hinted themes, dirty minded hoes who act oblivious, a whole lotta mouth and tongue but no nothang but slighhhhhttttlyyy nsfw.

a/n: idk what this is it just came to me as i had a popsicle in the morning lmao... i js missed writing.

you're walking home with one of best friends, ellie, after a day at the park. it was a boring and oppressively hot day. you had bought yourselves ice lollies to help survive the sultry weather.

"is it good?" ellie speaks, pointing to your yellow popsicle.

"yeah, ellie, it's good." you say, matter-of-factly.

"i love pineapple." she looks away from you as you come closer to the crossing, both you looking to the sides of the road in sync.

“i know, me too." you reply shortly, not giving her the time of day, rapidly crossing the street. ellie stays silent, but not for too long.

"well..." she mutters when she catches your trail.

"yes?" you know what she wants but you still play dumb. you're not gonna give it to her.

“just a taste—" she starts whining, and you cut her off.

“nope." that's all you say in response.

you turn the stick horizontally as you get to the middle of the ice lolly, you suck on it and she's snorts heavily. she seems to drag her feet along the sidewalk.

“please, it's so hot out here.” ellie insists on the subject.

"it’s not my fault you fucking gobbled yours." you giggle, flicking her forehead.

she lets out a cartoon-like ‘ouch’ and she pushes your arm.

"bruh, it was small." ellie complains before wiping sweat off her nape, where strands of hair stuck onto.

“doooon't caaaare.” you smirk.

you bite the ice off the stick and she looks like she's mourning its loss. ellie loves pineapple artificial flavoring, despite choosing not to eat too much actual pineapple because when you two ate a bunch of pineapple slices together, you ended up with prickled tongues and mouth ulcers. it wasn't fun.

you can read her expression well enough to let out a chuckle, almost choking on the juice that pools inside your mouth. she clicks her tongue at the sound of slurping coming from you, she focuses on the noise of lawn mowers on your neighborhood instead, but they're just as annoying.

"ellie." you mutter with a heavy breath, she can hear what remains on your tongue moving. she hums in response.

you know ellie's annoyed. you were friends, but you were afraid that you had spoiled her. whenever you denied her anything, she'd catch an attitude. and you liked teasing her. you thought she looked cute when she'd look away from you with a serious face over something so small as a popsicle.

“lukami.” you say, he contorts her face in confusion, and you slurp at the juices to clear your words.

“look at me." you repeat, now coherently, grabbing her cheeks.

“yeah? what do you want?" she looks at you, and you take a disgustingly loud and final slurp.

ellie knows the pineapple stick is gone now, and she didn't even get to taste it. she pictured herself tasting it off your lips, or even your tongue. she wondered if she'd able to feel the refreshment if she sucked on your tongue after all the sucking you did on that popsicle.

“guess what?” you smile, she takes a little too long to answer and you wonder what goes through her mind.

but well, she's nasty, isn't she? she wanted it, no matter if it meant licking around one of her best friend's mouth. she's upset, but she knows it's silly.

“what?” she shrugs.

"i have popsicles at home.” you say excitedly and you look giddy, your sugary fingers still on her face.

“whatever," she looked away, forcing away from your hold. "get those sticky fingers away from me."

"that's a great album, by the way." you ignore her demand, chuckling.

you mess with her cheeks, smearing her with the syrup on your hand. you left a spot on her lips, she licked it. finally, she knows what it tasted like and she yearns for more.

“you're so messy, ya know?" she smiles wide.

you look at your hand as she grabs and holds it where it was, against her lips. you stop on your tracks completely, feeling her tongue stick out of her lips and coming in contact with the pad of your fingers, it tickles. you giggle.

she hums at the sweetness of it and looks up at you from your fingers, what a kid!

"ellie, please, what's wrong with you?" you laugh, and she does too. sugar puts her in a good mood.

“should've just let me taste it.” she speaks.

you would've thought she was done but ellie takes your index finger inside her mouth for shits and giggles, her warm as the day tongue massaging your finger as she sucks on it.

“you're so stupid.” you say, using minimal to no strength to push her face with the hand she entrapped. she smiles around your finger.

you feel the desire to slide your finger further into her mouth to wipe that shit-eating grin of her face. you imagined how ellie would look when she gagged on it, the shock in her eyes would be amusing, you assume. these thoughts run around your mind.

you think she might have an oral fixation by the looks of it,you look around, making sure no one was watching this seemingly obscenity.

"god, ellie.." you sigh in defeat when she flutters her eyes shut. you watch, mind running around her soft features and braking on her pursed lips, tainted red from her late watermelon popsicle.

then she releases your finger, after god knows how long (now that your fingerprint is practically part of her tongue’s muscle memory). you snap back to reality, freshly cut grass smell hitting your nose and unbearable sun hitting your skin.

ellie looks proud of herself.

"it really was good. what flavors you got at home?" she asks and starts walking again. you clean your now spit dirty fingers on your shirt and walk with her, enumerating the flavors of popsicles your dad had bought and stacked in the freezer.

[vynrico]

◤♬ Twisted wonderland music preference hcs! ♬◥

Uh just a note that I'm not too familiar with too many music genres (blues for example). I have a very specific and fixed music taste myself. These are just personal hcs so don't take anything seriously 💦

Anyways just enjoy reading this thing that has been sitting in my notes app for a while ~☆

Characters included: main cast (- staff, side characters)

▬▬ι══════════════════ι▬▬

🌹 Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

Classical: This isn't very surprising but it definitely calms him down and insists that it helps him focus the most while studying.

Maybe also whatever tea party music is during unbirthday parties since they're quite pleasant too.

♣ Trey Clover ♣

Pop

"That's just what normal people like, right?" ~♣

Jazz: I mean just look at his face, it screams that he likes jazz (no pun intended).

♦ Cater Diamond ♦

Pop: He's in the pop music club, he's an extrovert and likes to stay on trend

Soft indie: I know those two contrast each other but I think he'd like softer music in general when he's alone. (Mitski Cater real)

♥ Ace Trappola ♥

Hip-hop, pop or whatever the average teenage guy likes since he's honestly quite normal in terms of taste in general.

Idol songs or just girl idol bands in particular. I can't really see him liking any boy bands honestly

Though this just might be just me being biased since I like to imagine him to be really fem in general 💦 (he would LOVE newjeans).

♠ Deuce Spade ♠

Rap and phonk: Liked it during middle school as an edgy and cringy tween

Alternative, rock or metal: he probably went to concerts with his friends back in middle school

He forced himself to listen to classical before but doesn't like it all too much (I'm projecting) cuz he heard that one myth about listening to classical can make you smarter

🦁 Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Classical. Well um, his hobby is playing chess? He's old

Traditional sunset savanna music of many cultures

🍩 Ruggie Bucchi 🍩

Pop, hiphop, rap: it's most of what he grew up listening to in his neighborhood so he just naturally picked up on it. (Do you think he rapped as a side gig before?)

He likes some of his grammy's music taste too (I'm not specifying cuz I can't think of anything for that one)

🐺 Jack Howl 🐺

Rock and edm (based) cuz that's what I think gym music is like.

Pop: Based off the vibes I think he'd just picked it up naturally — he isn't the deepest character in the cast so my assumption might be quite shallow imo, this is twst's bad writing at fault... ☠️

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

Jazz: All the octa members used to be in a jazz band back in middle school so I'll be using that as reference as an explanation. And well, the mostro lounge bgm is jazz

Classical: Because Azul was on the piano/keyboard in the band as I remembered, he started liking classical whilst taking piano lessons. He seems financially well off enough to be able to take piano lessons since he was kid, he could maybe also be self-taught too but having a tutor just makes more sense

I like to think he likes a lil bit of alt too (Because I said so).

🦈 Floyd Leech 🦈

Just loud n fast-paced music in general. I can't really specify a genre for him idk why. I like to think he's the most active and productive when it comes to music. Like oh, this song is sick! And then he immediately goes on his drums to sync with the music or any other instrument he has.

Jazz

🐬 Jade Leech 🐬

Nature: he doesn't seem like the type who listens to music actively

Jazz

Secretly likes Punk rock: His beta design is supposed to be a punk if I remember correctly. And well, he's on the bass, after all.

He probably likes some of what Azul and Floyd likes

🐍 Jamil Viper 🐍

Pop, hip-hop, edm, rap: Considering the blazing jewel Scarabia song and his skill for breakdancing, these are my best assumptions for his music taste.

🌞 Kalim Al'Asim 🌞

Pop, rap: I think that he took some of Jamil's music taste as his own, he tends to join Jamil whenever he dances alone so I think he listens to what Jamil listens to so he can get closer to him (Jamil often just finds it annoying though)

Maybe traditional songs from the scalding sands. He once said that he plays a traditional instrument from the Scalding sands (I forgot which) so I assume that he's more of a guy who likes cultural music.

👑 Vil Schoenheit 👑

Pop

Opera: He once said that he attends opera and theaters with Rook occasionally

Visual kei: This one is referenced from the manga anthology, not sure which one. The one where he suggests the pop music club to wear vkei clothing to get more attention.

Whenever I listen to vkei, I always think of Vil or pomefiore in general.

🏹 Rook Hunt 🏹

He canonically likes opera but I think he'd also like indie. He likes to experiment tho, beauté! 100点.

If Vil or Neige sang in one of their movies before, he would definitely listen to them on repeat. Idk what theatre kids like but yea these are my thoughts.

🍎 Epel Felmier 🍎

Harveston folk songs, I think he said that before but I don't remember.

Enjoys some fast-paced songs while he's having fun on the blastcycle occasionally cuz it's more fitting for the occasion and it gives him more energy on his rides.

This is also cuz I use Epel as my cover for my hardcore playlist on spotify. I'm more of a speedcore and hyperpop epel truther though

💀 Idia Shroud 💀

Game OSTs, hardcore or basically any rhythm game music (I can bet he plays arcaea, cytus, project diva, chunithm, taiko no tatsujin, lanota, D4DJ and other stuff),

Girl idol group songs (canon)

Vocaloid.... Whatever the average otaku likes or sumthin.

🤖 Ortho Shroud 🤖

No preference(?) I mean... Not sure what robots like, he may be a self-aware AI but I just can't think of anything for him.

I like to think he likes things based on what the other people around him like. For example, maybe he likes opera due to Vil's influence or something (I hc that he thinks of Vil like his second older brother)

🐉 Malleus Draconia 🐉

Classical and opera.

"This is what the folks these days like right, no? Hm? That stopped being the current popular music 30 years ago?" ~🐉

He doesn't quite get edm or any techno music.

If I remember correctly, he plays the violin so he tries to hone his skill by listening to classical music.

"This Hatsune Miku you speak of have such marvelous vocals... Hm? A voicebank you say? Care to explain what that is?" ~🐉

⚡ Sebek Zigvolt ⚡

Despite his loud personality, he def likes more calming music like briar valley folk songs cuz of his grandpa. He's a very traditional guy, this is because of being raised in briar valley, a pretty traditional place with a population of long-living fae.

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

Pop: Pop music club, he likes to stay on trend and seeks Cater as help for that

Rock and heavy metal/death metal (canon from his club card story/vignette).

Personal backstory hc: On one of his travels around the mid 1900s, he came across a local indie metal band when it was at its debut and became an og fan of it before it became popular. In a fleeting time-range according to him, rock and metal has become a popular genre in that time period.

I kinda wanna write a fanfic about this now that I came up with this, but I dont have much knowledge on rock or metal so I'm afraid it might be inaccurate. And idk how to write fan fiction in general

💤 Silver Vanrouge 💤

Soft indie

"Silver! the best thing in the world is supporting small indie bands. You will never regret if you try one for yourself." ~🦇

Nature or whatever disney princesses like

Maybe he has tried louder music like rock, metal or whatever Lilia recommends him before as a way to focus on studying without falling asleep but it's just not for him. (Silver's part is mostly abt lilia cuz he just loves his dad)

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Tip of His Tongue (Legolas x Reader)

Summary - Another inexperienced prince learning how to pleasure a woman.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, mention of female genitalia (reader), oral sex (reader receiving), weird descriptions (like always), lowkey brat!Legolas, slight edging (possibly), teasing, face riding, inexperienced!Legolas, dom!Reader, sub!Legolas, dom/sub dynamics, a hint of praise kink if you squint (Legolas), implied squirting (Legolas drowns in it, RIP).

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

Word Count - 3,000+ (almost 3.1k but a little under)

A/N - Another suggested smut! "legolas learns to eat pussy. that's it." — (anonymous) Thank you for the suggestion, I hope you enjoy! I apologize that it is taking me a while to get smuts out, my health got a bit wonky which made it hard for me to focus on writing for long periods of time. I did manage to get through some other non-writing projects that had been in limbo, so it was not entirely wasted time. I am still in the process of writing some suggestions as this is being written, so thank you all for your patience and for your kindness! I am horrendous at replying to asks, but rest assured that I have seen each one and will be hoarding the kind words like a dragon hoards treasure (because you all are precious gems <3). Reader has no defining features other than soft lips, a round ass, and I will die on the hill that Legolas would not care if you smoother him. Smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

As the chilled caress of night air roamed against your skin, allowing the sensitive buds upon your chest to harden beneath the bitter nip of its touch, a heated gust cast down upon the exposed flesh of your cunt—shielding it from the night's bitter touch.

It was an uneven—anxious—breath. It rained down upon your glistening hole, causing it to appear as if it were sparkling beneath the orange hue of firelight, yet ever so slightly shielded by the shadow that loomed above. The warming caress of heated breath inched closer to the moistened hole—seeming to be drooling in anticipation under the anxious heat of the elven prince's breath as his lips neared it.

The elven prince's lips parted slightly, allowing the tip of his tongue to slip through the pearly gates of his teeth—swiping at the flesh of his lower lip as the weight of his head delved further between the plushness of your thighs—seeking out the sweet nectar hidden betwixt them. The warmth of his breath inched closer to the source of your lust; the tips of your toes curled in anticipation as the heat continued to rain down upon your eagerly awaiting hole.

A wait that was not for long, as the prince's restraint had begun to fray the moment he had laid eyes upon the delicious sight of your exposed cunt—drooling and eagerly awaiting the moistened caress of his unskilled tongue.

The wet glide of the elven prince's tongue swiped against the sweetened tang of your nectar; the act was a sudden, almost sharp, swipe. It was unplanned, a test of his actions as his ocean eyes bore up at you—sparkling amidst the sea of eagerness was the twinge of desperation as he awaited your response.

"Slowly." The word left your lips in a gentle breath, nearly sounding amused as you began to instruct the typically skilled prince. "Follow my lead." The bed let out a soft creak as your weight shifted upon it—your back curving forward, allowing the wetness of your arousal to press against the prince's tongue, flattening the moistened muscle slightly in the process for better leverage.

It did not take long for the air to fill with the harmony of the wooden frame creaking in sync with your weight as you rose and lowered the length of your cunt against the wetness of his tongue. The taste of your arousal was distinct; it was sweet whilst also holding a bitter tang amidst the sea of other various flavors, ones the elven prince had never tasted in his life prior—yet now they coated every taste bud upon his unskilled tongue as you guided him in the dance of oral pleasure.

Amid your guidance, the grasp you had mindlessly placed upon the smoothened sheets beneath you began to ease. A singular hand lost all hold over the luxurious cloth and quickly found itself tangled within the sea of silken locks upon the elven prince's head—furthering the leverage you held upon him as you continued to puppet him to your pleasure.

"There we go," A familiar heat began to spread throughout your hips as you breathed that small praise, yet your motions did not cease. "something like that..." The words were nothing but air escaping your lips as your neck began to crane backward, the weight of your head seeking out the plushness of the pillows beneath him as your hips continued to rock against the elven prince's face.

The praise was not lost within the chilled embrace of the night's air that it was breathed into: as ever the eager student, the prince began to mimic the motions you led him in moments ago. And it had started on a good note; the wetness of his tongue continued to lap against the length of your cunt, savoring the sweet nectar that seeped forth from it—acting much like a spoiled cat would with some cream. The motions were as slow as you had shown him, copying the exact motions you had done prior in the dance of pleasure—licking from the very top of your folds, swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves within them, and then slowly lowering to the hole that drooled so prettily for him.

Yet, the elven prince quickly found his pacing, growing more and more confident within the folds of your wetness.

It was a gradual change, the course no longer fixating on the entirety of your cunt as it quickly began to fixate on one location in particular—the drenched flesh that surrounded your leaking entrance. The sensitive circle of flesh leaked eagerly in anticipation as the focus fell upon it; it yearned for the internal caress of the prince's tongue—or other appendages—yet it was left in that state as the moistened appendage refused to delve within.

No. Rather than be embraced by the sweet, warming embrace of your inner walls—it remained upon the thin outer layer of flesh, merely circling it. The tip of his tongue grazed against your needy hole in a slow circle around the sensitive lining of your wetness, allowing it to catch every droplet of your sweet nectar as it escaped from your center.

"Fuck." The word escaped your lips in an irritated breath as the weight of your hips began to quiver from the slow strokes of the elf's tongue. Yet, the sound of your irritation did not seem to sway the prince from his actions, rather, the sound of your displeasure appeared to further his ministrations in tracing circles around your sensitive opening.

"Move." You instructed—the word escaping your lips in a mewled tone. The swaying of your hips grew more mindless against the patterns of his tongue, attempting to lure him into the warmth of your center. Yet the attempts were unfruitful as the wettened muscle of the prince's mouth refused to delve within your depths of pleasure, regardless of the beautiful ways your hips swayed against the smoothness of his face.

It would always be a breath away, the glistening entrance practically rested upon the tip of his tongue, allowing the elf to apply the faintest amount of pressure against the willing, needy hole as it flattened against it—the very first taste buds upon the tip becoming coated with the taste of your lust in the process, yet the others only lingered with the memory with the sweet metallic taste of your arousal. As before any further could become soaked in your arousal��to become welcomed in your caverns of pleasure—the prince's head would shift in the slightest of manners, refusing to give you the internal caress that you so desperately craved.

The warmth of pleasure that had once spread throughout your body began to shift into another heat, irritation.

A groan fell from your soft lips as the weight of your hips shifted against the moistness of his tongue, nearly chasing after it as you yearned to have the twitching muscle slide into your aching core. Yet, much to your dismay, the prince continued to lead you in a game of cat and mouse; shifting, swaying away from your pleasure—inching back the moment before his moistened length could sink into the overflowing fountain of your lust.

Fine. If that was how the prince wished to play his hand.

The grasp you had held upon the back of the elf's head began to tighten, at first a warning grasp to remind him of his place—yet you were soon able to see that a mere squeeze was not enough. It quickly firmed, knuckles clenching around the smooth locks as the tips of your nails began to dig into his sensitive scalp—the bitter sting of them lighting piercing the flesh of his head allowed for a hiss to vibrate against your moistened hole. A sensation that caused a shiver of pleasure to roam down the length of your spine.

"Up."The singular word hard barely lingered in the chilled air long enough for the elf to process it before the sudden, sharp tug of his golden locks forced his head backward. The action exposed every inch of the prince's slender neck to your eye as his head craned backward, yet your gaze fell upon the center of his neck—watching as the ball beneath his skill bobbed as he swallowed down a breath, as he anxiously awaited what would follow.

"Now." The elf swiftly rose from his knees at your command, his ocean gaze never leaving yours as his body straightened from the old, wooden floor beneath him—the grasp you held upon the back of his head never ceasing as he did so, merely tightening as you, yourself, shifted into a more comfortable seated position upon the bed's plushness—the blue heat of his ocean-colored eyes burnt into your exposed flesh as the prince eagerly watched how it shifted upon the softness of the bed beneath you.

"On the bed." The elven prince followed your second command as swiftly, and as eagerly, as he had followed the first. The anxious heat of anticipation emanated off of his tall, slender form as he inched closer to you; soon joining your side upon the softness of the mattress. The bed groaned as the weight of his body sat beside you, the mattress sinking inward slightly as he shifted upon the bedding as expectancy arose within him—the tight grasp you held upon his silken locks remained tight throughout this.

The tips of your nails found themselves digging deeper within the sensitive scalp of the blonde's head, embedding themselves with a snug pinch as the weight of his head was suddenly pulled backward—forcing the elf down upon the mattress. The curve of his back pressed firmly against it, his once burning gaze upon you now forced upon the sight of the old ceiling above whilst your grip remained firm upon the elf's head.

"And here I thought you would be easy to teach." The corners of your lips threatened to curve into a smirk, twitching in anticipation as you gazed upon the once powerful elven prince who laid weakened within the clutch of your palm—neck craned, eyes wide, and breath hitching within the back of his throat. Yet, you had managed to keep the corners lowered; wishing to keep your enjoyment of the elf's teasing secret.

"Regardless," The mattress creaked as your position shifted upon it, yet this was not any mere position that your body had contorted into. No. "you will learn." The weight of your heavenly figure had departed from the plushness beneath you, finding itself onto the sharpness of the elf's face—straddling it.

The plushness of your thighs encased the sides of his face, the heat of your cunt a breath away from his thin lips—lips which glid against your moistened folds as you lowered yourself upon him. The softness of his lips parting sent a shiver down your spine as the tip of his moistened muscle slid out from between the pink gates of his mouth—it swiped against your leaking entrance as if seeking permission to delve into the drenched cavern of your lust. "All the way." A command that did not need to be repeated, nor did it need to linger within the air for a moment longer as the length of the elf's inexperienced tongue dove into the wetness of your center.

A sensation you had been yearning for since this had all begun.

The act was not as swift as when the prince's tongue swiped against the length of your cunt—a shiver ran down your spine at the reminder of the act—it still held a decent pace. Every centimeter of the moist muscle eased into the warmth of your pleasure, lingering within the grasp of your welcoming walls for a few moments before the next slowly took its place within your depths.

And though the action was gradual, the elven prince adjusting to how the tang of your arousal coated every bud upon his tongue as he sunk into you, he did not dare to tease you any further—not wishing to anger the woman who straddled his face.

A satisfied groan rumbled deep within your chest, the noise slipping through the softness of your lips upon an exhale as the weight of your head fell backward—neck craning just as the prince's was—as you sunk further into the wettened internal caress. The flesh of your thighs tightened slightly around the sides of the elf's head, applying a faint pressure to his sharp, sensitive ears as you danced upon his tongue.

As a steady pattern began to form within the mindless swaying of your hips, the prince's moist muscle began to explore the inner workings of the walls of your lust. The patterns and pace he made held no true rhyme or reason—a swirl here, a flick against there, and darting in any position he could—but soon, one began to form as you led him in the dance of your pleasure.

The grasp you held upon the elf's head tightened, the tips of your nails piercing against his scalp—enough to leave angry reddened marks in their wake—as the puppeteering of his head returned. An act that caused the pleasurable vibrations of the prince's pained hiss to echo against your wet folds; the tips of your toes curling at the pulsation against your cunt as the dance of pleasure began to rise in tempo—soreness be damned.

As your hips rocked and rolled with rising speed, the bed continued to creak and groan under the vast movements, the weight of your cunt pressed further into the curvatures of his face, sinking into the sways of pleasure. An act that the prince met with the quickening motions of his tongue inside the walls of your sopping entrance. It jutted, flicked, and swirled within—soon finding itself scraping against the most sensitive spots within your core, before returning to the unplanned swirling within the hold of your warmth.

It danced within you, similarly to how you danced upon his face, guided by the silent symphony of pleasure—a tune heard by known yet known by all, accompanied by choruses only the soul knew to vocalize into the most beautiful, strained tunes of lust-driven gratification.

"Shit—" The word found itself caught within the back of your throat, hovering within the length of your neck for a few moments before it was pushed out by the rushing sound of pleasure that was your strained moan. The pace at which your hips moved had begun to shift as the heat of soreness within your hips began to burn with a new warmth—the warmth of nearing.

The fluidity of your motions began to lack, turning to sharper—almost stuttering-like—motions as the weight of your body pressed further onto the elf's face; the pressure of nearing completion made it hard to care, let alone pay attention to, keeping the prince's airway free—but he did not care.

Emboldened, the prince's slender hands found themselves upon the rounded flesh of your rear. The tips of his fingers dug into the plumpness of your arse, pulling it further against the smoothness of his skin whilst you continued to ride his tongue to your pleasure—his tongue curling inside of the walls leading towards your womb, scraping against one of your many sensitive spots.

A gasp fell from your lips at the sensation, a sound that soon masked with a deep groan of pleasure that rumbled forth from the center of your chest; the pace your hips held was fast and sloppy—the weight of your cunt pressed firmly against his parted lips, the essence of your pleasure coating his amateurish tongue whilst it continued to curl within you.

As the familiar tingle of pleasure began to rise from the tips of your toes, the piercing grasp you had held upon the prince's head had managed to tighten further, the skin around your knuckles tightening—almost revealing the bone—as you held onto his golden locks as if they were your only anchor from being whisked away into the sea of pleasure. The weight of his head rested within your palm as the weight of your cunt rested upon his lower face. The motions of your hips turned from that of stuttering into bucking motions, jolting up into the curving of the wet muscle as it scraped against one of your sweetest spots. The pleasurable tingling that roamed throughout your veins swiftly turned into the scorching burn of anticipation.

The static's intensity grew harsher, the burn within you brighter than that of a bonfire as every flick, every curve of the prince's novice tongue added tinder to the fire that spread rampant throughout your veins.

And, with the final flick of his tongue, you were consumed by the fire of ecstasy.

The familiar embrace of pleasure turned all to static, even the sounds of your incoherent moans as they danced within the air—and the hiss of the prince's lips as your nails continued to claw upon the back of his head, further angering the reddened marks the tips of your nails had left behind prior. All sensation had left your body; it felt as if your very essence had been whisked away within the chilled night's gentle breeze, yet still grounded upon the elf's face as your pleasure rained onto his tongue—drowning him in your pleasure, as you sank into the sea.

It felt as if all time had stopped whilst also speeding up all at once. As if you were everything, but nothing.

The sounds that escaped through your softened lips were incoherent, primal—a song from your soul orchestrated by the unskilled prince's tongue.

The bitter nip of chilled air slowly guided your essence back into your quivering form, the fire of pleasure being quenched by its numbing caress—yet the heavenly tingle of ecstasy continued to dance quietly within your veins. The sensations within your body slowly began to return, the weight of your figure feeling as if was weighed down by many heavy stones as you struggled to lift your quivering form off of the elf's face—the essence of your pleasure trickling forth from the corners of his thin lips, rolling down his sharp chin as he swallowed down a mouthful of your liquid ecstasy.

The bed creaked loudly as the weight of your body flopped onto it, the burning heat of your exposed form emanating beside the elven prince's head; the sound of your shared, uneven attempt of returning breaths danced within the night's air—both stunned at the prince's prowess.

He was truly a natural at his craft.

[thequeenofcurses]

Happy Birthday, Sylus 🖤❤️

cw: smut, birthday sex in the forest, kinda public but not really, forced orgasm?, sylus is sylus, im still learning how to write smut better, bear with me, didn't fully proofread so i can post in time whoops T...T wk: 3250

kinda based on the new sylus: where hearts live card, so spoiler alert?

lads masterlist read on ao3

Sweet Like Sugar

Three long hours of driving out of Linkon and you finally arrived at Sylus’ surprise birthday location. Thankfully, the trip wasn’t a complete bore, with Sylus’ constant quips and questions about where you two were going for the day. 

You made the cutest “happy birthday” button, a hand drawn chibi of Sylus with a tiny little crow that he proudly wore.

The national wildlife park entrance was bustling with cars, yet Sylus being the VIP he always is cut right through to the front, waving his black card at the attendant.

“Welcome, Mr. Che,” the attendant stamped the passes you were holding and waved you two in. “And happy birthday sir!”

Once you two traded Sylus’ elite convertible for the land rover, today’s adventure truly began.

The sun dappled through the dense canopy as you and Sylus cruise slowly along the gravel path, windows rolled down, the scent of wildflowers and pine mingling in the fresh air. The wildlife park is quiet, tucked far enough into nature that all you can hear are birds, wind, and the crunch of tires over fallen leaves. No tour guides. No barriers. Just you, Sylus, and the wild.

The drive had started like any other: casual laughter, the occasional startled gasp when a bird flew too close to the windshield, and Sylus’s quiet hums syncing to the low thrum of the engine.

He’s at the wheel, one arm draped casually out the window, the other resting lazily at ten o’clock, though his eyes often flick to you more than the road.

“You’ve been staring,” you say, smiling as you glance at him from the passenger seat.

“And?” he smirks, crimson eyes dark beneath snowy hair. “It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to stare at whatever I want.”

That smirk lingers long after the comment, heating your cheeks. You look away, pretending to focus on a group of deer grazing in a sun-drenched field. Sylus doesn’t push, but the tension between you settles deeper with every passing moment.

Eventually, you find it; a quiet grove of sugar maples nestled beyond a split in the trail. He pulls the rover off-road.

“Looks like we found your birthday treasure,” you tease, stepping out of the rover and stretching. The ground is soft beneath your shoes, and the scent of nature is intoxicating.

Sylus follows, his boots crunching quietly behind you. “Treasure, huh?” His voice is smooth, low. “I thought I already had that.”

You roll your eyes with a smirk, but heat flares in your cheeks anyway.

“Let’s see if we can actually get some of that maple,” you say, stepping toward the nearest tree.“I read that the sap’s still sweet this time of year.” You reach up, fingers grazing the bark, sticky with sap. “Mm. Sweet,” you murmur, licking a dab off your fingertip.

“I thought you said I was the sweet one today,” he teases, stepping close enough for his breath to warm your ear.

You glance back at him. “Maybe I lied.”

“Oh?” His voice is a low hum now, lazy and dangerous. “Then maybe I’ll need to remind you what sweet really tastes like.”

You break eye contact with a laugh, hurrying toward the trees before you melt under the weight of that stare.

The two of you playfully chase after the dripping maple sap, swiping at bark, dodging low branches, Sylus occasionally flicking sticky syrup at you with a mischievous grin. It’s light and innocent… until it’s not.

At one point, you stretch on your tiptoes to try and catch a drop of amber from a higher branch. Sylus comes up behind you, steadying you with one hand on your waist.  

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

Before you can reply, a blur of brown fur barrels into Sylus. A large labradoodle slams into him, sending both of you tumbling to the ground. Sylus takes the brunt of the fall, cushioning you with a grunt and a chuckle.

The dog licks his cheek as if in apology, then bolts back toward its owner.

The two of you stay there for a moment, breathless, laughter fading into a softer silence. The energy between you shifts, less playful now. More charged.

Sylus props himself on one elbow, his other hand finding yours, fingers brushing sticky-sweet sap from your wrist.

“You said something earlier today at the base,” he murmurs, voice a warm breath against your neck. “That I get whatever I want on my special day.”

You tilt your head toward him, your heart skipping. “I did. That was dangerous of me, huh?”

A soft huff of amusement escapes him. “Dangerous?” His hand slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You know me, kitten. I am dangerous.”

You inhale sharply, your hands gripping the soft fabric of his jacket. The forest around you hums, but all you can feel is him.

“And what is it,” you whisper, “that you want?”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear like a secret. “You. Here. Now.”

And just like that, you're picked up, back against the tree, bark rough against your spine, while the sticky scent of maple clings to the air as Sylus kisses you, deep, slow, hungry. Like he’s been waiting all day to taste you. Like it’s the only thing he’s wanted since the moment the sun rose.

He pulls back slightly, eyes half-lidded and dark with want.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs, one of his classic lines, but this time, it sounds raw, honest, possessive.

You barely get out a breath before his mouth is on yours again, claiming. His hands slide under your shirt, calloused fingertips skimming heated skin. Your hips arch into his touch instinctively, needing more.

“Sylus,” you gasp as he mouths down your neck, sucking a mark just below your collarbone.

“Say it again,” he groans, voice thick with want.

“Sylus.”

His name is a prayer, a curse, a promise.

Your hands fumble at his shirt, and he shrugs it off easily, muscles flexing, eyes locked onto yours like he’s memorizing you. When he kisses you again, it’s harder, deeper, your back arching as he presses his body against yours.

“You have no idea,” he growls, voice vibrating against your skin, “how long I’ve wanted to ruin you somewhere only we know.”

The sunlight filters through the leaves, casting gold over sweat-slicked skin and tangled limbs. Clothes fall away like they were never needed. He lays you down on his jacket, soft against the mossy earth, and kisses every inch of you like it’s sacred.

The birthday boy takes his time, exploring you as you both slowly explored the park today. Inch by inch, worshipping your body, while undressing you. His long fingers find that sweet spot of yours, rubbing through your panties, reveling in your wetness.

Despite the mild temperature and the fact he now has you naked, his body above you is keeping you warm. Sylus unbuckles his belt, his scarlet eyes, never leaving yours. His pants and boxers slide off of him and he leaves you for a split second, only to return with some maple sap on his fingers.

He drags them, slowly down your chest, down, down, down, to your pussy. Starting from your neck, leaves playful bites and kisses and then licks the sap pooling down your chest, savoring in the flavor. You can’t help but moan, the sensation overwhelming. Sylus continues to go lower and lower until his throbbing cock’s tip is just reddened, begging for stimulation.

Not yet, though.

It may be his birthday, but he isn’t afraid to give you a treat, or rather, take a treat from you.

He collects more maple sap and pinches it, letting it drip down just above your pussy.

“I can’t…” he starts licking and kissing your clit, lapping up your slick mixed with the sap. “Get enough of you.”

“Nghh, Sylus,” your fingers find their way to tangle in his white locks while he utterly devours you.

“I want to taste- mhm-, all of you,” he says between licks. “Don’t hold back, kitten.”

“Sy–” You’re abruptly cut off when he quickly slides one, then two fingers into you. His tongue doesn’t relent, the warm muscle savoring every drop of you while his fingers twist inside you. They’re so close to hitting that spot. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Sylus, please, I-I can’t–”

“Give it to me, kitten,” his warm breath tingles against your folds and his fingers pick up the pace. Finally, finally, his two fingers curl and hit that golden spot of yours. His mouth sucks your clit just perfectly, his warm tongue tapping at your nub juuuust right when you– 

“F-ffuck Sylus… I–” your red polished nails twirl his hair so hard, but he doesn't complain. Your thighs shake and tremble as they try to close around him. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, but when you open your eyes and see his throbbing cock, you know he wants more.

The way he crawls up to you, his face slick with your cum, the way his abs and pecs flex, how his scarlet eyes are full of desire, how his cock is leaking precum…

You grab him by his face and pull him into a deep, sloppy kiss, tasting yourself and the sap, on his lips and tongue. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing his hard body against yours.

You flip him over and straddle him, his eyes glued to your body. He bites his lip and groans, his hands running along your soft curves.

“Time for me to return the favor,” you breathe out.

“Hm?”

You give him soft sweet kisses, with cute little nibbles starting at his neck as you trail down his body. Your delicate hands grasp his length, feeling it throb in your hand. Your hand palms in comparison to his manhood, your fingers don’t even fully wrap around it.

“Kitten…” Sylus sighs, his hand reaching up to brush the side of your cheek.

“Don't worry, birthday boy,” you smile. “I'll take care of you.”

Your thumb circles around his tip, his pre-cum coating his cock. You start pumping him, earning a few low groans from him. Your lips find their way around his shaft and the first thing you do is lick up his precum.

“Fuck, baby girl, you're so sexy,” Sylus growls, watching as you bob your head on him.

The way you hollow out your cheeks, the way your tongue swishes around his cock, the way your lips pop when you come off his tip, the way his eight inch cock glistens when he's slick with your saliva…

Your mouth is so incredibly full and your eyes well up just from the pressure. WHY IS HE SO THICK!? He could kill you with his cock if he really wanted to. Your  head bobs him up and down, your hands even find their way to his oh-so-full balls that were just waiting to be milked by you. 

His fingers find their way into your hair and he thrusts up, a little too rough. You moan around him and he does it again. And again. The vibrations send his head spinning and the moans only make him fuck your face harder.

“Fuck, Kitten, wait-” You disappointedly slide his dick out of your mouth and look up at him, batting your lashes. There’s a cute trail of spit that stays connected to your mouth from his tip for a moment. It’s ridiculously adorable. 

“Yes?”

“I need to be inside you so bad,” Sylus' hand moves to cup your chin.

You sit up and straddle him again, this time, hovering just over his tip. He can feel the warmth and wetness of your entrance.

“Beg,” you command.

“Kitten,” Sylus chuckles. “Do you know who I am? What I've done? I don't beg.”

“You're the one who told me not to hold back, Sylus.” You smirk, grinding on him a bit. “Now beg.”

“Baby girl, please, let me be inside you, please,” Sylus says.

You slide down his cock, inch by inch, letting him stretch you out. He feels so fucking good.

“Good boy,” you coo, sliding up and down him, slowly.

Sylus' eyes are shut, his face contorted with pleasure. He's so beautiful.

“I love watching you like this,” you lean in and whisper into his ear.

“Like what?” Sylus grunts. He's using everything in his power not to bend you over against a tree and fuck you into oblivion.

“So pretty, enjoying yourself,”" you start going faster, his cock hitting the best spots inside you. "Enjoying me."

“Kitten,” Sylus wraps his arm around your waist and sits up, holding you on his lap. He kisses your shoulder. "I can't get enough of you. I never will.”

“Sylus,” you moan as he starts bucking his hips.

“Mm, you're so tight, baby girl,” Sylus breathes. “You're fucking perfect.”

“You fill me up so good,’ you whine, grinding against him.

“Shit, baby, I'm not gonna last much longer,” Sylus grips your hips and thrusts harder.

“Neither am I,” you kiss him and his hand snakes up to your breast, massaging and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“You're mine, princess, say it,’ Sylus growls.

“I'm yours,” you breathe.

“Say my name, tell me who you belong to,” Sylus orders, his lips on your neck, biting and sucking.

“Sylus,” his cock slams into you, so close to your g-spot. “Sylus, I'm yours, Sylus!”

“Cum for me, kitten, I want to watch you cum,” Sylus growls, and you obey, cumming on his cock. Your nails dig into his thighs as you try to balance yourself as his pace quickens and he fucks you through your orgasm, his name falling from your lips.

“That's it, baby, so good for me,” Sylus grunts and he cums too, spilling his seed inside you. He holds you against him, your foreheads pressed together.

Not even a minute after finishing, he's hard again, throbbing, and he fills you so completely you see stars. He feels even bigger now. Is that even possible?

He lays you in the grass, on top of his jacket, like you're the most precious thing ever, never disconnecting from you. His hips press yours into the ground, his weight warm and perfect and solid. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, until the sound of his voice is lost in a string of broken moans.

Around you, the forest watches in quiet stillness, birds flitting through trees, a fox slipping between the brush, unbothered by the irony of two humans fucking like animals in the heart of their world.

“So, a Hunter just lets their guard down in a place like this?” he murmurs into your ear between thrusts.

“As crazy as it seems,” you pant. “I know I’m safe with you.”

His smile reaches his eyes. That was an unexpected answer, but one that brings him happiness.

Sylus fucks like he loves, deep, slow, passionate. You cling to him, nails scraping down his back as the world melts away into nothing but sensation. The rough, hot friction, his breath against your ear, the smell of sweat and sex and the forest and him, all him, Sylus.

You lose yourself to the rhythm, to the way his body moves with yours, to the soft praises he mutters against your skin.

“Perfect…” he whispers. “So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Perfect.” Thruuuust.

Your body moves against his like it was made to be here, his rhythm relentless and sublime, your thighs starting to shake. His eyes meet yours, dark and desperate and needy. Your eyes squeeze shut as you arch beneath him, nails digging into his back as your hips stutter against his. His movements speed up, chasing his own high.

“Syy-Sylusss,” you're slurring at this point. Drunk on his cock.

“One more, Kitten,” he grunts, pounding into you. “Give me one more.” His large hands are bruising your hips as he gets a grip while his tip is kissing your cervix. Your legs feel like jelly, and if it wasn't for the fact that you're inside a semi-public area, you would want this to last forever. “C'mon, princess, for my birthday?”

“Syyy, I– ” he shuts you up before you even have the chance to finish.

Who were you to deny him? The birthday boy? The leader of Onychinus?

Sylus suddenly flips you over, and you show him the prettiest arch.

One hand firmly presses your head down and his other grips your ass as his hips snap forward, pounding into you mercilessly. If you won’t give him one, he’ll just take it. 

It's too much. Too good. You feel his tip hitting your cervix, over and over and over, practically entering your womb—the pressure almost painful, the slap of his hips against your ass, the feeling of him stretching you out, his head keeping you down. It really is too much.

The sap, your fluids, his fluids, it only made it easier for him to slide in and out of you effortlessly. He felt bigger, thicker, and the noises you were making were getting louder, echoing across the forest.

Sylus' free hand slides up your back, grabbing the roots of your messy hair and pulling, the sting forcing a moan out of your mouth.

“So pretty, baby,” Sylus says. “Mine.”

You're both covered in sweat, the leaves, and dirt sticking to your skin. The sun is starting to set and the forest is getting darker.

“I- Sylus, I-I'm close,” you whimper, tears once again forming in the corners of your eyes.

He thrusts, harder, and harder, and harder. Giving, no – taking, what’s his today. Everyday. 

“Me too, Kitten, just let go,” Sylus says.

And then you do, seeing white and feeling weightless, the forest spinning around you. Your release is mind shattering, your body shaking uncontrollably, but Sylus’ big warm hands steady you. Your eyes squeeze shut as you arch in front of him, your tight walls pulsating and milking his cock, nails digging into his sides.

The final crescendo is white-hot, all-consuming, as he groans your name like it’s the only one he’ll ever speak again.

“Y/n…” he chokes out. “Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n.” 

He fucks you through your orgasm, hips stuttering, pace growing erratic. You kiss him, messy and desperate. It only takes a moment before he follows, and he kisses you back, hungry and starving and full of emotion he doesn't quite know how to voice.

You stay there for a moment, bodies still joined, hearts slowing. The wind rustles the leaves above, and the world goes on.

He's panting as he breaks away, eyes half-lidded, his mouth red from the kiss.

“Happy birthday,” you giggle breathless.

“It's been the best one yet, kitten,” Sylus smiles, a genuine smile. “Let's go home and I can thank you properly.”

You chuckle and nod, stealing another kiss before getting dressed.

Sylus takes his jacket, but before he can put it on, you snatch it.

“I'm keeping this,” you say, slipping it on and smiling.

“Fine by me, princess,” Sylus smirks, guiding you to the gravel path. “Now let's get back. We can pick up a few more things from the gift shop.”

“Okay!”

“You know, if it wasn't my birthday, I'd say we do that again, but somewhere even more public,” Sylus jokes.

“You're ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, but laugh, climbing back into the rover.

“You're perfect,”  he compliments, following you in.

a/n also YES these are my photos except the shirtless one lol

[homestylehughes]

i wanna taste

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after one sight of y/n, jack has to get a taste.

warnings: smut 18+. oral- fem receiving, dirty talk, cussing, use of pet names. fluff, soft jack.

wc: 1.8k

au: hi loves! im on a writing streak (thank you spring break). im back with some jack smut woooohooooo, i realllllyyyy enjoyed writing this, i hope you guys enjoy. like and reblog if you enjoy<3.

happy reading <3

Rain softly hits the window, the soft light from the lamp in the corner of the living room illuminates the room with a soft glow. 

I've been awake for a few hours, my body waking me up at 5 am, turning over to see that Jack was sound asleep beside me, I decided to get out of bed and start my day.

Settling on the couch with a cup of coffee in my hands along with my book, this is where I've been for the last 3 hours. The book captivated me so much I didn't even check the time until I had finished it. 

The clock read 8:15, I was genuinely surprised Jack wasn't awake yet. His crazy hockey schedule kept him awake and up at odd hours, his body probably needed all of the sleep it could get. 

Getting up to get another cup of coffee, and the second book of the series I’m reading, I settle back into the couch and enter an alternate universe. 

I'm so into my book, that I don't even realize Jack creeping up behind me, wrapping his arms around my neck, nessling his face in my neck, feeling  his warm breath fan my neck. 

“Good morning pretty girl” I hear him say, as his face is still muffled in my neck. 

“Good morning” I say back as I crane my neck up to meet his face, getting a good look at his face for the first time today. 

Taking in his sleepy doe like state, hair a mess, eyes full of sleep, leaving evidence that he just woke up. Sweatpants riding scarily low on his hips, his chest bare, allowing me to rake my eyes over it. 

“Done checking me out pretty girl” he smiles down on me, catching me in the act. “Maybe, i'm not sure yet” i muttered back, my face heating with a slight embarrassment. “How'd you sleep?” I ask him, still looking up at him. “Good, really good. Would have been better if I woke up with you beside me” he says, looking down at me. 

“Sorry baby, I randomly woke up at like 5am. I didn't want to wake you up "I say feeling bad, for leaving him in the bed alone. 

“It's okay, you can make up for it now” he says as he begins to lean down, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. The angle makes it a little hard for me to fully kiss him, but I deal with it and push my body up further to meet his kiss. 

Our lips moved in sync for a few more seconds before Jack pulls away, resting his arms on the arm rest behind me, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath. 

“That's a better good morning greeting” Jack says as he's smiling, making his way to the other end of the couch, picking up the blanket that covers my feet and slides under it as he sits down. 

The simple movement probably means nothing to him, but it does to me, seeing him so at peace, and calm makes my heart warm. I'm quickly pulled out of my daydream when I hear Jack's voice.

“Has it been raining all morning?” he asks as he's looking out the window, the rain still hitting the window. 

“Yeah it's been raining since i've been out here” i say “it's very peaceful” he replies back softly. Turning his body back to face mine, “what time is it?” he asks, snuggling himself deeper into the blanket like a child, “9:30” i reply back. 

“Dang i slept in” Jack says with an airy laugh. I laugh softly in response, as I go to pick up my coffee mug to take a drink, to only find that its empty. 

“I'm going to go get more coffee, do you want a cup?” I asked him, raising my back from the couch to get up. 

“Yes please that sounds amazing, thank you pretty girl” he says, moving himself back to a sitting position on the couch. 

“Okay baby, I'll be back” I say as I fling the blanket off my body, not seeing Jack's widened eyes as I turn my back to him as I make my way to the kitchen. 

Making both of our cups of coffee I make my way back to the living room, I feel Jack's eyes on me instantly. 

“Here you go baby” I say, holding the hot cup out to him, “can you place it on the table for me?” he rasps out, as I go to place the mug on the table in front of us, I hear Jack speak again “set yours down too”. I look up at him confusingly as I set both cups down on the table. 

“Are you okay Jack?” I ask him, my eyes locked on his face. “Yeah i'm fine, can you come here please” 

I make my way closer to him, standing in front of the couch where he lays, Jack deciding that isn't close enough for him. He puts his hands on my hips pulling me into his lap. His hands moving to rest on my bare thigh. 

“What are you wearing?” he asks me, looking down at my body, i see nothing wrong with what i'm wearing. “Clothes?” i reply back timidly, still confused on why he's acting like this.

“Your not wearing pants” he says, tracing his hands under my shirt, circling his hands on my practically bare hips, causing my breath to hitch slightly. 

“You're walking around the house in a tiny thong, and a shirt that doesn't even cover your ass completely, and you expect me not to do anything” bringing his face to mine, close enough that I can feel his breath fanning on my face. I swallow before saying “what are you going to do about it?”

Before I know it, Jack smashes his lips to mine. The kiss is hot and wet, his tongue quickly entering my mouth fighting and winning for dominance. My hands in his hair pulling him closer to me, wishing that there wasn’t a blanket separating us. 

I began to rock my hips into his to gain some type of friction, I can feel the dampness between my thighs beginning to grow. 

I pull my lips from his and begin to trail them down his neck, kissing and sucking little love bites in my wake, softly biting his ear as I make my way down. I hear Jack's breathing beginning to pick up, moaning lowly in my ear. 

Just as I'm about to trail my way back to his lips, he pushes me off of him. My back is now hitting the couch. I look up at him breathless, waiting for his next move. 

“I have to taste you pretty girl, I've been dying to do it all morning” Jack says, eyes locked with mine as he pushes the blanket of his body. Making his way between my legs spreading them apart as he rests in between them now. 

Tracing his hands up my bare thighs, his hands sliding under the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down slowly, while keeping his eye contact with me. Once my underwear are completely off me, he throws them somewhere behind him.

Jack begins to kiss up my thighs, alternating between each of my legs. My chest is rising quickly now, I need him to do something soon, the tension is starting to kill me. 

“Pretty pussy is so wet for me” he sighs as he slides his middle finger between my folds before pulling it back out, his finger glistening in front of him before sliding it into his mouth. 

Moaning at the taste, his eyes are on mine. This action alone causes me to moan down at him, shifting my hips closer to his face. 

“Tastes so sweet, pretty girl” he says as he guides his face back down to my pussy. “ I think I wanna have a taste now, is that alright with you, pretty girl?” his eyes searching mine for an answer. “Yes jack, please” I breathlessly say to him. 

Not even a second later, jack is diving into my pussy, his tongue finding my clit instantly. My hands fly into his hair grabbing something to hold on to while jack fucks me with his tongue. 

My moans are beginning to fill up the room, along with the sounds of jack slurping up my pussy, like a man who hasn't had a drink of water in days. 

Taking me by surprise Jack pushes 2 fingers into me, continuing to lap up my clit with his tongue. “Jack fuck” I moan out, pulling his hair even tighter between my fingers, the action causing jack to groan into me, sending chills up my body.

I began to push my hips to meet his tongue and fingers, beginning to feel the coil in my stomach heating up. 

Jack senses that i'm almost there, he thrusts his fingers into me, but curves them just enough so that he hits my g-spot. 

Causing my eyes to roll in the back of my head my body arching off the couch, my hips pushing themselves further into his grasp. 

“Right there fuck jack, please dont stop” I groan out. I reach under my shirt grabbing my right nipple between my hands squeezing it in between my fingers, as my other hand starts needing my left boob. 

“Fuck pretty girl, you look so hot from up there” my breath labors at the sound of jacks rough voice “does it feel good pretty girl?” “fuck, you feel so tight against my fingers, taking me so fucking good like a good girl” he says as he brings his thumb to my clit, rubbing and pinching it hard and fast. 

Incoherent things are falling from my lips at this point, the only thing I'm focused on is jack and the dam in my body that's about to break. 

Before I know it I'm cumming, hard and fast. My orgasm gives me no warning as it begins to wash over my body, hitting me like a tidal wave. 

My moans and “don’t stops” fill the living room, my grip on Jack's hair never loosening. Finally coming down from my high, I try to catch my breath, I open my eyes that make their way down to Jack who's looking at me with wide eyes, and a parted swollen mouth catching his breath. 

Making his way up to me, so that he's now directly on top of me, pushing himself up by his arms. “That was the hottest thing ive ever fucking seen.'' Jack says before capturing his lips with mine. 

Pulling back to look into his eyes, before something catches my attention. The cups of coffee on the table. “I think our coffee is cold,” I say, trying to hold back my laugh.

“I dont give a fuck about that coffee anymore” jack says as he laughs back at me, bringing his lips back to mine mumbling “how about we finish this in the bedroom?” before picking me up and dragging me to our bedroom. The coffee being long forgotten about. 

[nchye]

looked at me like i was summer

pairing: 18!dean winchester x 18!fem!singer!reader summary: she isn’t supposed to be kissing dean winchester in a diner at three a.m. not in a sundress. not on his lap. not with cherry on her lips and his dad walking through the door. bobby’s daughter knows better. but knowing better doesn’t mean you stop.

disclaimer: english is not my first language! warnings: lowercase intended, first love vibes, fluff, dean is cocky, no use of y/n, no explicit physical description, third person, suggestive??, caught in the act (kissing), john looks like a decent father in this!, secret relationship, kiss now think never, stealing, summer love is my favorite. word count: 1.3k+

chye's corner: i love love, love doesn't love me. that's why i need to write. was thinking of creating a series of drabbles/one-shots for these two, 'cause i love them. let me know!! pls consider a reblog, a like, or a comment! thank you for choosing to read my words (((:

chye's grimoire (masterlist) requests are open!

the diner's nearly empty. just the buzz of bad fluorescent lights that haven't been cleaned in a decade and the soft hum of something summery coming from the jukebox. fleetwood mac, maybe, she doesn't really recognize the words. somewhere, a ceiling fan clicks out of sync with the music. outside, the summer heat still clings to the pavement.

it's 3am and the booth seats are still warm from hours of sun still trapped in the vinyl. she's in a sundress the color of cream soda, the kind that rides up without asking, one strap falling loose, legs tucked sideways across dean's lap like she belongs there. one arm draped around his neck, bare skin against denim. dean's hands keep finding the hem of her dress, then forgetting to let go. he's looking a her like she hung the moon and crashed it into the earth just for fun.

the cherry slushie sits on the table with two straws and one loud slurp left at the bottom. "last sip's mine," she says.

"you've had like, seventy percent of it"

"i don't care about percentages. i care about vibes, and the vibe says it's my turn," he squints at her, then tips the straw into his mouth anyway. very dramatically. "dean!" she laughs, half-shoving him, half-climbing further into his lap.

"you snooze, you lose, peach."

"you are such a little..." but he's already grinning that smug face of his, like he knows she won't stay mad. and she won't. not when he looks at her like that. not when his cheeks are pink from the heat and his hair's all messy and he smells like leather and stolen cologne, something way too old for him.

she's closer now. knees tucked against his side, one hand braced on his chest. he's looking up at her, lips stillstained red from the slushie and from her. it's stupid how cute he is, really.

and so, of course she leans in. almost kisses him. he lifts his chin, eyes fluttering half-closed. and she stops. smiles.

“what are you doing,” he says, eyebrows raising. “why’d you stop?”

“i’m just thinking about my slushie. you know, the one you stole.”

“thinking’s for nerds. kiss me.”

“maybe i don’t want to.”

“you do.”

she shrugs. “how do you know?”

he leans in now, a little bolder. his voice drops to a whisper. “because you keep looking at me like i'm summer.”

her heart does something it’s not supposed to. “ugh,” she says, trying to sound annoyed but failing. “you’re so full of yourself.”

“you’re still not kissing me.”

“maybe i like watching you suffer.”

“maybe i like when you…”

but she cuts him off. finally.

the kiss is soft at first, but not careful, a little too warm, a little too much teeth. his hand presses into her back, pulling her closer, like he doesn’t know what to do with the air between them. they move lower, groping her butt. she tastes like cherry and he like something distinctly dean. it makes her dizzy. it's the kind of kiss that makes her feel like she's floating. his hand tightens on her waist, hers curls into his shirt. they forget the time, they forget where they are, they forget to be careful even if it's 3am in the morning.

the door jingles. they are too wrapped up into the kiss to even notice the footsteps inching closer. dean tries to bite her lower lip, she giggles on his mouth.

"you've got to be kidding me."

they pull apart like they’ve been tasered. she nearly falls off the booth. dean’s arm flails trying to steady her.

they both look toward the door like they’ve seen a ghost. john winchester is standing in front of them, staring at the booth, the dress, his son's hands, at his crumpled shirt and her messed-up hair. he sighs, defeated.

"it's three in the morning," no one speaks, the jukebox has stopped working. john blinks slowly, then looks at dean. "you took my car. again. i woke up, no son, no car. i think, hey, maybe he's out hunting. wrong. he’s sucking face in a diner booth with bobby's kid like it’s a damn teen soap opera.”

dean gulps. "dad, i..."

"don't. just don't, son" he pinches the bridge of his nose. "and, you... you've got three seconds to get off his lap."

she whines, but does what she's told. "mr. winchester..."

"listen, kid, i like you. i do. but if your daddy ever finds out about this, about you and my idiot son playing house in a booth at 3 a.m.? i’ll be the one dodging shotgun shells. and you won’t be far behind," she swallows hard. nods. "glad we're on the same page."

"that's... dramatic," dean says weakly.

john blinks like he’s counting to ten in his head. “get. in. the car. and clean that damn cherry crap off of your mouth."

dean stands, tugging his shirt down, trying to regain some dignity. fails. before he leaves, he glances at her, his face still a little dazed, a little proud, a little oh my god i’m gonna die. he looks at his dad, still with a murderous gaze in his eyes. dean decides here and there that he doesn't really care that much so he leans down again. a small peck on her lips. that wins him a smile from her and a slap on the neck from his father.

“worth it,” he says, voice low, grinning like a fool.

[supercorpkid]

The Best Kind of Trouble - Final

Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader! Kara Danvers. Alex Danvers.

Word Count: 2745.

Part 1.

Note: Please get this fic out of my hands, I can't stop writing scenes for them to flirt, I love it way too much.

You’re addicted. You know it. Every smirk, every laugh, every look she gives you, every word she speaks—Lena has become your own personal brand of trouble. It’s not just her, though. It’s the situations she pulls you into, the way they leave you spinning, tangled in a mess of emotions you can’t untangle.

It’s the heat that coils low in your stomach whenever she gets too close, the way her voice wraps around you and sticks in your head long after she’s gone. It’s how your body betrays you, reacting to her in ways you can’t control, leaving you flushed, restless, and aching.

You crave it. The tension, the unpredictability, the way she leaves you feeling off-balance but so alive. It’s maddening. It’s intoxicating. It’s her.

And that's how you end up right… here.

“You know, I can just buy us milkshakes, right?” Lena says, raising an eyebrow as you show her the sign that reads: Free Milkshakes for Couples This Valentine’s Day! Her smile betrays her—she knows exactly what you’re hinting at.

“It’s not about buying the milkshakes!” You roll your eyes, exasperated. “Everyone else here is a couple. You could just hold my hand, walk over there with me, and we’d get a free milkshake.”

“I’d rather have a coffee.” 

“Why?” You ask, your frustration evident. She opens her mouth to explain, but you’re not done. “Why do you have to make everything so hard for me?”

Lena hesitates, clearly weighing whether to offer a clever retort or just give in. You’re quicker than her, though, and throw your best puppy eyes at her, your lips curling into a soft pout.

She sighs. “Y/N... I doubt we could just walk up and say we’re a couple and get the free drinks.”

“I promise it’ll work! Kara came here with Nia this morning, and it worked for them!”

“Is that why we’re here?” 

“Maybe. But that’s not the point.” You beam, more determined than ever. “Come on, Lena. Please? For me?”

Lena sighs, and that's how you know you got it. She grabs your hand and together, you stride confidently up to the barista.

“Hey!” you call out, a bit louder than intended, “We’re a couple! Can we get free milkshakes?”

The barista examines you both for a long moment, her eyes flicking between your faces. “Alright, let’s see you kiss.”

“Sorry, what?” You blink, caught completely off guard.

She shrugs nonchalantly. “We can’t just give them away without proof.”

You feel Lena’s smirk before you even look at her. That 'I told you so' look is written all over her face, and you hate that she’s right.

“Right... Yeah, she’s got a point.” You glance at Lena, forcing the word that feels foreign on your tongue. “What, babe? She does. We’re going to have to kiss.”

You try to keep the moment light, but when your eyes meet Lena’s, there's a playful glint in her gaze. Without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to her cheek. But the barista doesn’t look convinced, arms folded and waiting for more.

Lena tilts her head, eyes flicking from the barista to you, her smirk growing. “Darling,” she says warmly, teasingly, “I think she meant this.”

Her lips press against yours, soft and slow, and you’re frozen for a moment, breath caught in your throat. Your body, however, knows what to do—leans into her, lips parting just slightly as if it’s been waiting for this. And Lena kisses you. Not like it's the first time, but as if she has your lips memorized by now. Hands holding your face as if she is scared you're going to move away. Lena kisses you. Tongue and heat and desperation, tasting like she’s been holding back for far too long. Her touch is deliberate, yet trembling—fingers curling into your skin, grounding you both in this moment. The world around you fades, leaving only the press of her body against yours, the rhythm of her breathing syncing with your own. You’re drowning in her, and you don’t want to come up for air.

But you should. You should pull away. It's been going on for too long, you're pretty sure the barista was already convinced like a minute ago. But you can’t. This is Lena. And you’ve wanted this for longer than you’d ever admit.

Oh boy, how did you go from sitting on her lap in a car, to a kiss in the middle of an ice-cream shop with a literal audience?

You’re still caught in the buzz of the kiss when she pulls back, you’re dazed, barely registering her amused smile as she says, “Well, that was fun.”

The words feel like a punch to the chest, playful but light in a way you can’t match. Your throat tightens, emotions swirling into a mess of longing and fear. Did it mean anything? Or was it just a game to her?

The milkshakes appear in front of you, breaking the moment, but you can’t seem to ground yourself. Lena takes your hand, keeping the ruse alive as she pulls you toward a table. “Let’s find a spot, my love.”

You stumble after her, your feet unsteady on solid ground. She glances over her shoulder with a soft chuckle. “You alright back there?”

“Totally fine,” you mutter, though your voice cracks, betraying you.

You both find a secluded corner, and you try to sit down without spilling your milkshake, but the whole time your thoughts keep circling back to that kiss—it was too natural, too perfect, to be just an act. To Lena’s lips. To how she kissed you like it was just another moment between you two. Like there was nothing weird or complicated about it, even though you’re sure there’s nothing normal about any of this.

“Darling?” Lena’s voice breaks through your haze, and you glance up at her. She’s smiling, head tilted, eyes filled with that same maddening warmth. “Did we go through all that just for you not to drink your milkshake?”

“Right. The shake.” You glance down at the milkshake, as if it could somehow ground you. You take a long sip, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest, but it’s enough to make Lena smile.

Wait. Did Kara and Nia have to kiss too? Or was this barista just messing with the two of you? An unease stirs in your chest. Why wouldn't Kara tell you about this extra step? Or maybe it was just this one barista with a weird obsession with making people kiss for free stuff? Your thoughts spiral out of control again, and you can’t help it.

You know Lena is watching you, reading your mess in the silence between your words. She always does. You feel your face flush, and you focus harder on your milkshake, hoping it will distract you from what's inside your head.

Lena leans in, closer than before, her voice soft but teasing. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? You look like you’re overthinking it.”

You stammer, trying to form an excuse, but she’s already smiling knowingly, her grin full of mischief and the heat in your cheeks comes back. Again. “Come on,” she murmurs, leaning closer. “It was just a kiss.” 

You swallow thickly. It's just a kiss. It's just her lips on your lips. It's just the culminating point of all the touches, lingering stares, flirting banter, and the quiet force that's been binding you closer since the start. It's just — wait —what does she mean by just a kiss?

The room starts to feel smaller, cramped, hot. The milkshake does nothing to make you cooler, very much the contrary. The fact that you have this milkshake right here with you is because you had to kiss her to get it. You kissed her. It happened. 

You blink at Lena who watches you carefully, almost as if she is noticing something is changing inside your internal monologue, even though you know it's impossible. She kissed you, and to you it meant everything. And to her it was just a kiss.

You leave your milkshake and Lena behind, escaping to the cool air of National City, looking around trying to find a hiding place, or just somewhere to make your mind stop reeling. But before you move again, Lena finds you—feet stuck in front of the ice-cream shop, mind running around itself.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” Her voice carries the weight of knowing something’s off. She’s watched you closely for months now, memorizing your expressions, the way your face flushes whenever she’s near. “Was that too much? I'm sorry.”

It’s the first time Lena has sounded like this—small, uncertain. She’s usually the cool one, always so composed. You swallow the lump in your throat and blink back the tears threatening to spill.

“Sorry, really. I—I thought you’d be okay with the kiss. I mean, we've been flirting hard for months now.” She’s admitting to everything and even though it’s true, hearing her say it is unexpected. “At least I was.”

She looks so different now. Vulnerable. Small. In a way that makes your chest ache.Wait, is Lena the one who’s overthinking now?

“We were! We are!” You step closer, the words coming out of you in a rush. You’re almost shaking now, the gravity of the moment pulling you forward. “But you said it was just a kiss, and God, Lena, that felt like so much more than just something.”

“I only said that to stop you from overthinking,” Lena says quickly, her voice steady now, though it’s laced with the rawness of truth. “I didn’t want you to spiral. But I thought you could see it. The way we’ve been together. The way I look at you, the way I touch you—it’s not just casual. It’s more. Don't you feel it too?”

Your heart skips a beat. Every word feels like it’s unlocking something inside you, something you’ve been afraid to face. Your hand moves without thought, reaching for hers. It’s like an instinct, like everything in you has been waiting for this moment.

You’re so close now, and the world outside doesn’t matter anymore. The air is heavy, thick with the weight of all that’s been building between you. Your fingers brush hers, and it feels like the final piece falling into place. “Of course I do. I've been feeling you ever since the first time I saw you.” 

Lena’s eyes soften. She steps closer too, until there’s nothing left between you but the rush of shared breath.

“I want this, us.” she says, her voice low but certain. “I want you. Not just the flirting, not just the tension. All of it and more.”

Your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not from fear. It’s from the sudden realization that everything you’ve felt, everything that’s been building inside you, is finally in the open.

“I want this too,” you admit, the words tumbling out like they’ve been waiting to escape. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

And then, without a second thought, your lips meet hers again. It’s not a hesitant kiss. It’s not a kiss of confusion. It’s the kiss of everything that’s been left unsaid between you two, the kiss of finally understanding each other completely. This kiss is the answer for all of your questions. The end to all the what-ifs and almosts and not enoughs you two had together. It ties all the banter, flirting, and the heat, into one perfect touch of lips and tongues.

When you pull away, breathless, flushed, and undeniably happy, a smile stretches across your face. For the first time, everything feels right. “I love how we always find ourselves in these weird situations.”

Her laughter is soft, her voice steady. “Oh, I’d take every single one of them over anything normal, any day.” She brushes her lips over yours, the kiss light but grounding. “I’d take us as we are, every time.”

When she pulls back, just barely, her forehead rests against yours, lips still close enough to brush against yours as she whispers your name, a soft plea that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

And in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that this is just the beginning. The beginning of new, weirdly romantic situations that you and Lena will get yourselves into—moments that will make you laugh, blush, and sweat. The beginning of the next years of longing and teasing, of bickering that somehow ends in a kiss, instead of you being left hot and bothered. It’s the beginning of something so right, so inevitable, that no one can fight it, even though you've been trying to.

It’s not until months later—after countless other weird situations that leave you blushing and even more in love—that the truth comes out.

You’re at a game's night at Kara’s apartment, sitting on the couch next to Lena, who’s laughing at something Alex just said. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that her thigh is on top of yours, her hand around your torso, even though there’s plenty of space on the couch.

It happens casually, like it’s no big deal. Alex throws it out mid-conversation, between teasing Kara about her card game skills and passing the chips to Nia.

“Well, it’s not like you made it easy on us,” Alex says, smirking at Lena and you.

You blink. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on,” Kara chimes in, grinning like she’s been holding in a secret for way too long. “All those little moments? We had to help you two along somehow.”

Lena sits up straighter, her brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You know: the DEO projects, the whole ‘we’re out of seats’ fiasco, 'we're out of power', the couch debacle…” Kara counts the moments on her hands.

“I'm sorry, what!" Lena’s tone sharpens, her expression caught between disbelief and indignation.

“Oh, and the milkshake one!” Kara’s smile widens, her enthusiasm uncontainable.

“That was a good one! I can't believe you actually paid the barista to make them kiss.” Alex chimes in, looking so proud of her sister, like this is better than all the times she saved the world.

“You— You paid the barista?” You can’t believe what you're listening to right now.

“Hey! I thought you guys would only peck each other's lips, not fully make out in front of everyone for like two minutes.”

“You've watched us make out? Oh my God, Kara!”

“Trust me, I tried to look away, but I've been waiting for so long and you guys are my OTP!”

Alex leans back, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “I mean, you two were clearly into each other, but neither of you were doing anything about it. Except making it unbearable for us to be in the same room with you, with all the yearning and sexual tension. We just gave you guys a little nudge.”

Lena looks at you, her mouth slightly open in what might be disbelief—or maybe betrayal. “You knew about any of this?”

“I—no!” you stammer, feeling your face heat. “I had no idea!”

Kara beams at Lena. “You’re welcome, by the way. Pretty sure that elevator trick was genius.”

Lena glares at her. “You left us there for thirty minutes!”

“It wasn’t supposed to take that long!” Kara protests. “We didn’t account for the heat thing. That was… unfortunate.”

Unfortunate isn’t the word you’d use, considering how many times you’ve replayed that moment in your head since. Especially now that you know what face Lena makes when she is turned on, and you recognize that exact expression when she first looked at you without your jacket.

Alex shrugs, unapologetic. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? Look at you two now completely in love, the nauseating type.”

You glance at Lena, who’s gone quiet, her gaze fixed on the table. For a moment, you wonder if she’s angry—or worse, indifferent. But then her lips twitch, and she lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

“Well,” she says, turning to you with a glimmer in her eye, “I suppose we should thank them. Eventually.”

You’re pretty sure you’ll never let Alex or Kara live this down. But as Lena’s fingers gently brush a strand of hair from your face and her lips press softly to the corner of your mouth—lingering, just long enough to steal your breath—you can’t say you’re mad about all the meddling.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

I have been ferally reading through your blog, and it has taken everything in me not to spam like your writing!! it is just so full of emotion, and I'm pretty sure that your works fogged up the windows of my room. XD

Anyway, feel free to ignore if this request doesn't get the writing juices flowing, but could I please request a Simon X Fem reader who is insecure about her small chest and thicker than a snickers thighs that Simon loves?

Much gratitudefor your amazing works! -Shy Anon

READ IT HERE

Well, hello there Shy Anon. It's a pleasure to have you around.

We have plenty to enjoy and that is a compliment for sure that you enjoy my work so much that you can't get enough. And just so you know: you spam like to your hearts content. There's no penalties here for having good taste. lol jkjk

Okay, this one is right up my alley since I can very much relate to the description of reader's body. This is my first thoughts on it: Simon would devour every inch of you he could get no matter what you had to work with. He is a man of devotion and every inch of you he is ready to worship as you are the best fucking thing he has ever had because you are, as long as your energies sync that's it, he is hooked and craving you from sun up to sun down.

And let's be honest, with how much of a devoted munch this man is a nice thiccc (yes with 3 Cs), juicy pair of thighs that can squeeze around his head and make him suffocate against you as he eats his fill is going to get him so fucking riled up that he is going to be going dizzy just trying to get at you. (Add a little bit of a tummy and that man would go to fucking hell and back just to get a chance to show you all his lust; more skin is never a bad thing, not to him. That just means more for him to claim. He's a big man, he can handle it).

All he cares about is making you come as many times as he can, in as many ways as he can, because a girl as sweet and caring and thoughtful as you deserves to be overstimulated to the brink of exhaustion for being the light in his life. You are his goddess and every inch of you is like gold to him; fuck, if he isn't going to be grateful for all that wealth at the tips of his fingers.

I think we are gonna need another body worshipping Simon who makes sure that you know how much he adores your body, insecurities and all; that there isn't one bit of you he doesn't adore and want to show off. Best be ready to wile away the hours naked and writhing as he erases every last worry from your pretty little head. Your body is his fantasy and the only thing he cares about is getting to bury himself in it for hours at a time.

Give me a little to write this out and we are all gonna be in a hazy world of ecstasy before you know it.

[northsoulss]

dating you I - elisa de almeida

(a/n : i wrote this on a whim during my study break lol. this is how i think dating her would be like, of course take everything with a pinch of salt.)

whispers in the dark, trailing hands touching skin, giggles and laughter spilling from your lips. you stare at her, and she stares at you, eyes curved into crescent moons, crinkled skin with a crooked grin.

i. she looks at you like you hung the stars while you cook her childhood meal. she stares at your back from the kitchen island with a hand on her cheek as you pace around, taking different things from cupboards. you turn around, about to ask her to taste it to see if it needs more salt before pausing, seeing an intense lovesick expression on her face. in her eyes, you looked gorgeous, stray pieces of hair falling over that you tucked behind your ears, hair up in a messy bun, a light sheen of sweat on your forehead and arms. you only laugh, a massive flush creeping up onto your face. she only stares more whilst you shake your head, turning around so that she can’t see your flustered appearance.

ii. you think shes the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen as she helps you remove your makeup after a long day, eyes narrowed with concentration, lip pulled between her teeth to try not to get your makeup remover in your mouth. you laugh as she rubs your lips harshly with the cotton pad to get rid of your lipstick, a mischievous smile on her face.

iii. she thinks nothing could be more perfect than this, her lying face down with your body straddling her back. your warm hands slide up and down her tense back. you plant kisses along her spine as you make your way further down her body, each lingering touch sends an electric shock coursing through her body.

iv. after bad days, you know she would be waiting at home, despite her tiredness from trainings, with open arms and forehead kisses. her touch is comforting when you complain to her about how much of a bitch your boss is, her words like a soothing cup of tea on a cold winter morning.

v. she only realises how much you mean to her when after a fight, you still make an effort to plant sticky notes on the fridge for her to read before she goes to training.

“let’s make up? i promise good food when i’m back from work, love.”

she reads your hand writing completely smitten, looking at it as if you wrote her a poem. she takes the paper with a small smile on her lips, kissing it lightly before putting it in her wallet with the rest of the sticky notes that she has been collecting all year.

vi. you realise she is the one when hanging out with your friends, one of them asks you what is your vision of love and all you can think of is her laughter with that beautiful smile. you find her in all the small tasks you do, like finding a good song to listen to when doing chores, you get reminded of her telling you that this is her favourite song of all time, and it reminds her of you.

vii. when you’re laying in bed with her, face to face, your hearts beat in sync, and you unknowingly move closer to her. you recently read about when people hug, thats when two hearts are at their closest, literally inches apart. a small part of you thinks of that with a smile on your face and she doesn’t miss it. she wonders what you could be thinking of, but thoughts dissipate when when you tug her to your chest, so that the part of her that you love the most can be the closest to where your heart is. so that she can hear how your heart speeds up only for her.

©️northsoulss 2023, all rights reserved.

[myblogforeverandalways]

𝘊𝘖𝘋 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵- 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵

I'm deadass so new to Tumblr, but I really want to get my writing out there so please read this, or feel free to at least xx

Part of my Ghost fanfic on Wattpad <33 (Fr1edC0rp) <- if you wanna find me there love :)

Ghost fidgeted with the lace of your thong, sliding it down, your wetness glistening as they hit the floor. He would smirk to himself, wondering if you'd worn red thongs just in the hopes that he would fuck you senselessly one day, leaving you in a stupid mess when he was finally finished. He wouldn't be surprised. The tension they had for each other had him on edge all week, the pain of holding down his hard erection becoming more of a challenge.

Ghost trailed his rough fingers along your pussy, teasing the entrance before he entered you. And that alone was enough to have you crying out for him in an undeniable orgasm.

"Ghost-" You winced before gripping his shoulders as if it was the last thing holding you sanity together before you let go completely.

You'd bury your face as Ghost curled his fingers inside of you, making sure to make you squeal as your walls clenched around him. Ghost tugged your hair back, wanting to see every expression that played on your pretty face while he fingered you without a thought.

"No, look at me, princess, you're going to show me just how badly you wanted this", Ghost grumbled, his thumb circling your clit slow but hard, having you take a sharp gasp, your mind going blank, almost euphoric.

How could a man, such a cold, ruthless man, make you feel this good? That's a question you could ask yourself later after he fucked you with his war-criminal fingers, stretching you out enough to wonder how that cock would feel, buried deep inside of you.

"Ghost, I'm going to cum-" You'd warn, your legs shaking as he rough fucked you, a third finger finding a way to fit, tight, but just enough to pleasure you even more.

Ghost pained you even more in the build-up to your orgasm stopping, making you sigh, your hands shaking as you held onto him. He'd tug his fingers out, leaving panting, almost as if you lost a part of yourself.

"I want you to cum right on my cock", He murmured into your ear, his voice challenging with a hint of a sadistic manner intertwined.

"I-" Ghost held his wet fingers up to your lips, making you lick the mess off of them. That was one way to shut you up as he aligned his hardened cock up to that burning entrance, begging to be fucked.

He wasn't a man to allow you to adjust, not when he was this horny. Ghost's length forced its way inside, having you gagged off any comments as he held your hips down, fingers digging into your skin, burrowing his dick as far as he could. You could almost see it pushing at your womb, begging to go further, to fill you up.

It was virtually instinctive as you arched your back, bouncing up and down on his cock, skin slapping against skin, having him watch back in awe as your body moved in such a desirable way. A way that could send him to an early grave the way you went. You wanted to milk every drop out of his cocky self. You wanted to show you could take it, take the burn of his dick throbbing as you'd tighten your walls around it, begging to cum for him.

"Fucking hell doll", Ghost moaned, moving in sync with the pace you went, regaining his dominance as he ploughed into your tight cunt rougher, faster, like a feral dog.

You'd whimper, begging Ghost to take it slower, the undeniable build-up of your climax overwhelming your body. Fucking him was too much to handle, yet get enough of, as he spread your legs on his lap, allowing him to thrust his cum into you, fucking it in, 'not wanting to waste a drop,' he said.

And he meant it.

You'd watch helplessly as his seed seeped out of your pussy right down his dick that still stayed inside you, throbbing against your walls. Ghost's hand guided your vision to his dilated eyes before your lips pressed against each other again. His kiss was weaker, his lips tasting of scotch and cigarettes; it was almost addictive. The air was now thick with lust, soft sounds of panting as he held you close, admiring the state you were in because of him. Ghost took pride in himself, a smirk playing on his lips before he let you go. A sudden groan escaped him as his half-hardened cock left your worn cunt.

You wanted to stay there forever, feeling him inside you, moulding himself into you for next time. Although, it felt as if you could never recover.

You would tie your hair into a messy bun to regain composure. Pulling your skirt down as it was halfway up your hips. Ghost was ruthless in terms of fucking. He was a man you would never forget, a man that would have you at the edge of your seat. He would lean back almost casually, watching you fix yourself up, stumbling slightly. It amused him.

"I really did one on you then", He teased as you picked your red-laced panties off the floor, almost in shame.

Ghost would buckle his cargo up, his belt echoing as the night stayed silent. He would lift himself off the chair, both hands finding your hips.

"Tomorrow night, same time," he muttered, his hands rubbing your hips in circular motions.

You'd look up at Ghost, his tone of voice was less of a question, more of a command.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

if you got this far ilysm thank you for reading!!

[astoldbyaja]

Sokushitsu Part III

Lord Toranaga sees a bruise on Veil's body and before he takes action against Han, he decides to talk to Veil first and finds out she has a favorite... position. Lord Toranaga refuses to let another man please Veil in ways that he can, especially in her favorite position.

How do you fall in love? Harder than a bullet could hit you…

I panted heavily as I rested my body on the blankets on the ground beneath me. Han lightly rested his body on mine, our bodies remaining connected for a moment as our bodies shuddered from the intense bliss of Han using my body.

Our breathing was out of sync as our bodies shifted a bit in the night.

“Toranaga-sama has taken a liking to you.” he said lowly, cutting through the silence of the room. I was quiet for a moment as I rested my chin on my arms that were wrapped beneath my head.

“He’s taken a liking to my body. He and I have never had an actual conversation for him to ever like anything about me.” I replied.

“He knows you’re smart… your mannerisms and how you act is not that of a mindless and scared slave. He sees everything, he’s always been very smart ever since he was a child.” he said.

“I am only smart… because you have allowed me to be. You have taught me everything even when others frowned upon me learning… like to read and write in English.” I replied. He lets out a low grunt in response.

“What do you think of him, of Toranaga-sama?” he asked finally pulling out of me and lying beside me. I shrugged.

“I do not know him and cannot form an opinion on him. I have only heard of what you have told me about him.” I said honestly finally looking at him as he looks at the ceiling of the room.

“Does it bother you to know he may enjoy my body? Does it bother you to have to share?” I asked. Han was quiet for a moment before nodding.

“I will not lie; I have gotten used to spoiling myself with your body and company. I like your body and company when I am working for my lord.” he said. I stared at him for a moment and only nodded. He didn’t need to say anything more. I would keep to my duties and distance myself unless demanded by Lord Toranaga himself.

Days continued on and Han had many meetings with Lord Toranaga and so I was left to walk about the manor, tending to my other duties, in the strange kimono clothes that was given to me after some time. I would usually wear a red blouse buttoned up into a long skirt and under garments. But the longer we stayed, the more I was asked to wear other fitting clothing. But I wore what Han told me to wear. The women here were docile, walking with poise and grace. It seemed the way I moved about the homes following commands of Han, had me watched by many of the manor and the village.

I had caught a glimpse of Lord Toranaga returning from a ride on his horse. He looked at me and I looked at him with a bow, but hurried off to continue my duties not wanting to be caught in his gaze like a trap.

 I was returning to my room, with fresh linens for Han, when I felt a tightness in my right shoulder blade. It had been bothering me just a bit after my last moment of intimacy with Han. I slowly slide down the kimono and looked over my back noticing some mild purple coloring. A bruise. I couldn’t help but smile feeling pride of the bruise.

I am not intimate with many unless Han knows about it, but whenever I am taken on my hands and knees, I can somehow feel the man deeper inside me, and it feels so good. Han loves this position too as we both feel we can take the most pleasure from this angle. He sometimes presses my body down to the ground and holds me there so he can really move and lord it feels amazing.

I slowly covered myself unaware of the eyes that were watching me. That evening, Han and I were eating. I was still not used to the different tasting foods, but I still felt a great honor to be able to eat alongside my master.

There were footsteps approaching the door and we both looked up at the sliding doors opened and in came a woman. I had seen her many times before but never spoke to her. The woman and Han bowed to each other, and I did as well simply to show respect for her. She spoke to Han who looked stunned almost speaking fast in their language. Han looked a bit withdrawn almost displeased as he looked at me.

“Veil… this is Mariko-sama, she is going to escort you to Toranaga-sama. Her English is good.” he said before nodding as if permitting me to go. I was stunned but nodded respectfully.

“Yes.” I replied and slowly got up and began to follow the woman out of the room. The moon’s rays crept into the darkness of the halls, and I just followed the woman.

“You will be prepared for Toranaga-sama.” she said, and I looked at the back fo her head.

“Does… the Lord require my company?” I asked.

“He does.” she said calmly. “I will be taking Han-sama’s place behind a privacy curtain translating, so you two can speak.” I only nodded. I wondered why Han was not doing the translations.

After I was bathed against by servant women of the house, I was led to a different room with tall lit candles that illuminated the beautiful paper walls. I was in the middle of the room on my knees, and Mariko was already behind the long curtain blending in with the wall. The door in the side of the room slowly slid open and I turned and watched as Lord Toranaga entered the room calmly, yet his entire being exuded power.

I leaned over and bowed to the matt before slowly leaning up to look at him. He looks refined, tranquil almost as he approaches moving to look down at me but not sit himself. He begins to speak low.

“Toranaga-sama asks if you’ve been well.” Mariko spoke and I glanced at the long curtain before looking up at his piercing gaze. I gave a gentle nod.

“Please tell the lord I am well and… I hope he has been in good health.” I replied. Mariko spoke swiftly, but Lord Toranaga’s face remained still and unengaging and I wondered if he was upset with me.

If I had done something to offend, I am sure Han would have scolded me right away. Now the lord bowed his head and spoke of which Mariko replied.

“Toranaga-sama would like to offer his deepest apologies…” she paused before the lord began to speak again and then spoke. “He had accidently walked past your quarters and saw you somewhat bare. He begs for your forgiveness for staring.”

I glanced up at Lord Toranaga confused. Sure, he did not call me in here this late to apologize. He’s seen my back before.

“Please tell Toranaga-sama that it is alright and that I forgive him.” I replied. Marko translated my words and Lord Toranaga nodded with a low satisfied grunt. He then spoke again and then Mariko spoke.

“Toranaga-sama demands an honest answer to his next question. He asks… if Han-sama has beaten you before.” she said. Now I was completely thrown off and my face showed it as in looked up at the lord stunned. To think Han would ever hurt me was out of the question. I know he is capable of violence, and even killing, but I thank God every day he is not cruel to me.

“No! I mean Mariko please tell Lord Toranaga-sama, that Han has never been cruel to me or harmed me in anyway.” I replied. Mariko translated my words and now I noticed a slowly frown spread over his face. This man knows how to intimidate with a stare alone, so a frown felt even scarier. He spoke fast and Mariko replied.

“You are not stupid enough that you would lie to me.”

“I am not lying. I would never offend you by lying.”

“Has Han demanded that you keep your distance from me?”

“No. Han has never given such command to me.”

“Has his eyes given such command?”

“I cannot tell what a man wants from his eyes alone Toranaga-sama.”

“Every task you have been given is intricately placing you in locations that are the opposite of me.”

“I did not know my working routine was being watched… I do not know your routine and so I was not aware that our routines were… different?”

“I saw a bruise on your back.”

Now I was stiff as I looked up at the lord who watched me carefully noticing my visible shift. So that’s what he saw when he was spying on me. I was a bit flushed now, and I nodded.

“Please tell Toranaga-sama, that my bruise was not due to an act of violence but a result of intimacy between my master and me.” I replied. Mariko translated and Lord Toranaga looked a bit skeptical before speaking.

“Toranaga-sama believes that given your past times of intimacy that your body enjoys softer touches than violent touches.” Mariko replied. My eyes never left the lord until he slowly began to walk around me, and I looked down.

“Please tell the lord, the bruise was just a result of a different position Han-sama and I were in that we favor is all. It has happened before…” I replied. I had hoped telling the lord this did not get my master in trouble. That is the last thing I would want from him. But then again, why would a Japanese Lord care how an African slave is treated? It makes no sense. It confused me more to know that the lord memorized what my body liked during such intimate moments. The lord spoke as he continued to circle me, studying me almost.

“Toranaga-sama would like to know what this position is.” Mariko spoke bluntly as she’s been doing the entire time. I looked down some.

“My master… takes me on my hands and knees.” I replied respectfully feeling my heart clench to speak it out loud. I watched as Lord Toranaga’s lip curves slightly into a smirk. He speaks lowly and softly, and Mariko speaks.

“Toranaga-sama is surprised that you would like such a position.” she replied. I looked away a bit embarrassed to be talking about this even if it was with a man I had slept with before.

“A man feels… different inside me from that position. It feels very good for me.” I replied. There was a hesitance from Mariko before translating my words and Lord Toranaga-sama arched a brow and slowly got down on one knee leaning into me some.

He speaks lowly his warmth breath tickling my lips, he’s so close. Mariko speaks.

“Lord Toranaga-sama would like the honor to try this position with you as well. He says you may speak your mind freely with your answer.” she replies. As she translated, I noticed the lord’s eyes darkening with deep lust and desire. He doesn’t want to just try this position, no he’s familiar with it. He just wants a chance to replace Han in my mind of favoritism of man who can make me feel good in that position. I leaned forward just a bit, and he didn’t seem bothered or offended. If anything, his eyes looked down at my lips once more the look of hunger began to spread.

“Ask Toranaga-sama… is his back strong enough?” I asked. Mariko translated those words, and I watched the primal lust spread over the lord’s face before he captured my lips with his. It was aggressive yet passionate at the same time.

I had spoken too freely with that question. I had challenged his ability to please and so I was on my hands and knees, naked with two of his fingers moved in and out of me first slow, awakening my walls to his calloused fingers, then going faster, causing me to cry out from the intensity of the sensations he was bringing me. We had discarded our clothes long ago and now I feel his lips kissing a long trail over my spine, my long curls were over my shoulder giving a clear view of my back. I feel his teeth sink into my bruise a bit and my body jerks just a bit at the throbbing pain.

He speaks fast and huskily.

“Now even this bruise belongs to me.”

I could feel my walls squeezing around him, he had already drawn out one orgasm from me with his mouth while still on my hands and knees. That was knew. Now his fingers were scraping my soft walls causing bursts of stimulation to shoot up into my vagina. My body was trembling already as his other hand finally reaches around to pinch my clit and I yelp out from the sudden burst of pleasure I feel.

My thighs are wet with my juices, and I felt so dirty in front of this pristine and powerful man, but it seems he didn’t care. He moaned and growled against my body as his tongue licks over my lower back. He speaks in a breathy tone against my flesh.

“Lord Toranaga-sama asks if you’ll trust him enough to try something new with him.” Mariko translated and I nodded, glancing back at him my eyes were dark with desire. Of course, I verbally said it too, so Mariko knew to translate. Lord Toranaga caught my look and nodded as his two fingers picked up speed inside my vagina, causing more and more sharp and delicious bursts of pleasure to devour my needy entrance.

My moans were getting louder and higher as I covered my mouth. I didn’t want too loud and embarrass the lord with my lustful noises. I sounded so out of control; the opposite of how Japanese women were.

However, he snaps sharply and smacks my bottom hard sending a whip like pain into my body making me yelp.

“Do not hide your noises from me!” Mariko replied with the same tone as her lord. My hand immediately falls back to the ground and his fingers have kept their same vicious speed. If he kept this up, I wouldn’t last another moment.

Now I had forgotten about him wanting to try something new. I got my answer when I suddenly feel his thumb, against my anus and my eyes snapped open as I suddenly felt his thumb enter to his knuckle. I trembled heavily letting out a low groan at the feeling. My stomach began to tighten, and it was like my bottom and vagina were sending pleasure into each other. I let out a quivering moan at the sensations and suddenly felt my bottom press back into his hands.

“Aaahh Toranaga-sama!” I cried out as his fingers kept moving rapidly. Lord Toranaga smirks as he speaks again.

“Toranaga-sama wishes to know if any man has ever used this hole before.” Mariko asked as I felt my entire body melt to his touch. I shook my head.

“No! No one!” I cried out, feeling the muscles in my bottom stretch as he pushes deeper. The lord speaks sharply and quickly.

“Toranaga-sama says you may not come on his fingers. You are only allowed to come on his cock.” Mariko replied. I whimpered at her words, my muscles already starting to grip him.

“If he keeps using both his hands like this, then I won’t be able to stop it!” I cried out. Mariko spoke and Lord Toranaga gave a low chuckle of amusement before speaking.

“Toranaga-sama asks if you truly want him to take you like this.” Mariko translated. I nodded quickly feeling that coil inside me start to break. I even tried to move from his fingers, so that I could stop myself from coming, but Lord Toranaga’s firm and loud grunt, made my hips stop and it was enough for my body and mind to know he was warning me not to run from him. His fingers were thrusting deeper in both my holes, and I nodded.

“Please tell him I need him now!” I moaned out. After I hear her speak, the fingers stop, and I let out a whimper of desperation already wanting him to continue. I wanted him to make me come so badly. His fingers leave my body, and I shiver at the empty feelings. Both my holes were clenching and unclenching on air.

There were no other words spoken in this moment, just his hands on my hips and his sudden thrust. I let out an echoing moan as my vagina came on him from the mere connection. It was a small orgasm, but one Lord Toranaga noticed. His hips began to move into mine, I can feel his pelvis hitting mine. And now came the overstimulation of that small orgasm from his cock sliding in and out of me.

It's thick as it spreads my insides and with this angle it was heaven. He filled me up with each thrust, grunting and growling heavily from behind me as I feel his balls slapping my clit. My hips start to move in tandem with his movements and feelings that invade my vagina are intense. Lord Toranaga speaks lowly.

“Toranaga-sama wishes to know if your body can handle his strong back.” Mariko asked and my body shakes at her words. Every connection of his thrust was sending shocks of delicious and raw pleasure into my body. I was yelling heavily unable to remain quiet anymore. Han could hear me I was sure of it.

I looked back at him our eyes connecting with heavy stare.

“Kimochīi?” I asked heavily, my toes curling as he hits my sweet spot.

“Aaah Kimochīi.” he purrs, and slowly he leans his body over so his chest could connect with my back, and we moved together in such heated passion. Not even Han has pressed his chest to my back in such intimacy. He always just held my hips and that was it. I feel his lips at my ear as he breaths heavily into my ear sending shivers into my body. I loved the grunts and moans that escaped him. I can hear him whispering in my ear.”

“I love how you take me so well… so tight. I am going to buy you from Han… you will be my concubine… my Sokushitsu.”

I was overwhelmed with this addictive pleasure that I drank in his words, listening to the seeming pillow talk of his words. My mind was a fog and I would do anything to feel my own release on him as well as his release inside me. I wanted every last drop he had to offer.

His left-hand curls over my hand on the ground, and his right hand gropes my breasts as we both move in perfect tandem. Our lips find each other, and I moan as he passionately kisses me again, his tongue seeping into my own mouth, dancing with my tongue. His cock head is abusing my sweet spot, and I began to cry out desperately.

“I’m coming Lord Toranaga-sama!” I moan out hard as my walls began the familiar popping sensation before I feel it deep in my core. That doesn’t stop the lord from growling in my ear and placing his hand down on my back and pressing me down into the matts, his hips slamming into me violently causing me to scream out from the intensity that was growing from my orgasming. I was so wrong; his back is strong enough! He violated my sweet spots even more before he finally buries himself into me, and he lets out a guttural groan as he releases everything inside me. His hand was pressed into my back with a heavier amount of pressure that Han when he holds me down.

Lord Toranaga’s hips buck against my own for a moment as he rides out the high of his orgasm and groans lowly as his hip movements begin to slow. Slowly his body slides down on mine as he gently presses me into the matts, onto my stomach. We remain connected as I feel his cheek find mine and quietly, we nuzzle our faces together, his lips gently kissing over my flesh. It was… an intimate moment, like when Han had me, but this was just different. All of it felt different.

“Veil.” he says gently in my ear. With his accent it sounds like he’s saying Veiluh. I hum gently.

“Lord Toranaga-sama.” I purr in response as our foreheads gently lean in to one another.

How do we fall apart? Faster than a hairpin trigger?

-------------------------------------------------------------

Author's List

OKAY but can we talk about this GIF im using for this chapter.

It definitely looks like he's smirking at Veil when she asks if his back is strong enough XDD

Anyways Part IV will be up soon and it will be the final chapter!

Taglist

@slippinninque

@the-fangirl-diaries

@acrystalrosebroken

[veryace-ficrecs]

Leverage S4e07: The Grave Danger Job Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

though it worries me to say i've never felt this way by tacewrites - Rated T

They pulled Hardison from a coffin four days ago. Everything’s been quiet since then. Nate calls everyone together in hopes of filling the silence, and is surprised by who turns out to be the loudest in the room.

Safe by ChronicBookworm - Rated T

Parker and Eliot take care of Hardison after the Grave Danger Job.

Got Mulch? (taphophobia) by Sirenby - Rated T

It wasn’t that bad when it started. A little mulch. A nervous chuckle after his third call for his ‘friends’ to let him out. By the sixth, he was surrounded by laughter instead of cardboard—and that was something Alec knew how to deal with. . An Alec Hardison Character Study. TW for taphophobia and bullying.

Point, Line, Triangle by Canon_Is_Relative - Rated G

Hardison is curled on his side in Eliot’s bed. On Eliot’s bed. He’s got no blankets over him but he’s wearing long flannel pants and a thermal shirt, both too big for him, and he’s on his side with his hands tucked under his face. It looks like he’s fast asleep but she stands still and silent anyway, watching his chest expand and contract, syncing up their breaths the way they’d done when he was–

kiss on your lips when you're in my arms by MoonlightBreeze - Rated T

Some wounds take time to heal, but luckily for Hardison, out of old wounds sometimes comes new beginnings.

Or, I tried to write an angsty post-The Grave Danger Job fic, and it somehow turned into the OT3 getting together. Febuwhump Day 18 - "I can't see"

Stuck In A Rut by orphan_account - Rated T

Sometimes, when he’s in bed and there is darkness all around him, Hardinson closes his eyes and imagines he is underground again.

Steady (me) by renecdote - Rated G

He wonders whether Hardison knows how lucky he is, having someone who loves him this much.

The Sweet Taste of Air by Raven_Silversea - Rated T

What was going through Hardison's mind during the last few minutes in the coffin

Out of the Frying Pan, into the Fire (of Feelings) by Hedgehog-o-Brien (Roshwen) - Rated G

‘I need you too, you know.’ Or: Hardison is Fine™ and Eliot has an Emotion. Set right after the Grave Danger Job, so, you know. Content warnings for that episode apply.

Comfort In These Long Shadows by Archer973 - Rated G

Hardison had narrowly escaped his death in that coffin. Now Eliot and Parker keep vigil over him while he sleeps, and say things neither has acknowledged before.

Rake Pick by seventymilestobabylon - Rated G

A little OT3 get-together fic set after the end of "The Grave Danger job."

Scary Night by sisaat - Rated G

It's hard to sleep after being buried alive

Dig Under, Dig Deep by M14Mouse - Rated G

Elliot’s thoughts while they rush to get Hardison out of the coffin. Tag To The Grave Danger Job

A Conversation Was Had by Glitter_Lisp - Rated G

Parker isn't used to caring about people. Eliot isn't used to comforting people. They both get some practice.

Out of the Night That Covers Me by jesterlady - Rated T

Months after the coffin and Hardison can't get through the night terrors.

We look like lightning by puddlejumperpilot - Rated T

The constant ringing of a cell phone woke Hardison. He took a moment to assess his surroundings as he answered. Wherever he was, it was pitch black, there wasn’t much room to move, the air was stuffy, and his head pounded like he’d gotten up close and personal with a sledgehammer. “Wakey, wakey.” The voice on the phone said. “Where am I?” “Well, see for yourself.” Hardison used the phone light to look around, stomach dropping as he realized he was in a coffin.

Places To Rest (I Like Your Arms The Best) by Dee_in_between - Rated T

After the ordeal that the con on the Wicketts had turned into, all Eliot wanted was a shower and some peace and quiet. That immediately goes out the window when Parker and Hardison show up at his door. Despite their smiles, something feels off. There's definitely more to this visit than bougie pizza and a movie.

Saving Bunny by WerewolvesAreReal - Rated G

It's not that Parker is scared. But Bunny is kind of silly about the dark, so it would be nice if Eliot could come reassure him. ((Post 'The Grave Danger Job'))