#now... SLAM **ME** AGAINST YOUR CHEST NAH??? WHEN'S **MY** TURNS???

[somedaytakethetime]

Allow me to present to you: ~*The CL highlights*~ - Dane biased POV

*checks fit and self like he's about to run into his ex-girlfriend*

*beams like a little boy on Christmas Night*

*fathers fatheringly just about anyone*

*is so excited to start he forgets team photos*

*eyes on the prize, hearts full, can't lose or however that goes*

*supermodel run*

*celebrates like he just won the lottery*

*walk, walk, fashion baby, stay hydrated, queens*

*plots in the background*

*girlblogger sighs enviously in 38 languages*

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Help- bakugo w a gf who’s always cold

It’s the middle of winter and they’re chilling at the dorms, he’s making her tea and she jus sneaks up behind him and shoves her hands up his shirt and he screams like a girl

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

tell me why . . your hands are cold !

katsuki is way better than the heater

a/n.: LMFAOOO this is so cute..and way overdue omg, im so sorry this took so long anon ! i hope you're still hanging around and hope you enjoy ! also as someone who's hands are also legit always freezing (ppl w reynauds say hey) this is for me lol

cw.: no pronouns mentioned here im pretty sure !, fluff n stuff :3 katsuki threatens our life like once or twice but psshhh it doesnt mattuuur..lemme know if i missed sum else !

katsuki lets out a high pitched gasp before his next words come out "HOLY FUCK."

he slams his hands onto the counter in surprise, the spoon he'd used to pour some honey in your mug clatters and drop on the counter. his eyes drift down from your hands under his shirt, to looking back at you with a glare that could terrify any villain. yet you send him a mischievous little smile over his shoulder.

he grips your hands and quickly yanks them off his skin "what. the fuck. are doing." his eye twitched as he growled out his words calmly, but calm in a scary way that definitely does not match with your boyfriend's attitude.

"i was just trying to warm up, it's so cold in here." you whine playfully, katsuki squints at you the more you speak. the grip on your hands tighten as you try to press your cold hands to his skin again.

"so just- turn the fuckin' heater up." he grunts.

"but i want you, suki. you're way warmer." you tease using your sweetest voice. katsuki's nose turns up.

"stop bothering me. m'not gonna get anything done and then you'll blame me when you freeze to death. goin' out of my way to do somethin' nice for you, and this is how you thank me." he chastised, feeling your hands creeping around he quickly shoo's them away with a "cut it out. " ignoring your complaints.

"but, katsukiii. your squeal was so cute."

"fuck off and die. i didn't squeal." he scoffs.

"but you did."

"but i didn't." he pulls your arms closer, spinning around so you can see his pissed of expression, the grip on your hand tightens. "quit clinging to me."

you pout, dropping your chin against his chest to look up at him. his eyebrows furrow "but i like being close to you like this, you're so warm.. it's comfy."

"you and this weird shit you keep saying.." he mutters to himself, but you can see the slight blush on his face. "i'm busy. making tea. for you." he reiterates.

your eyebrows furrow "too busy to hang out with me ?"

"way too busy." he smirks. of course, he only gets happy when he's the one messing with you.

"jerk." you huff. katsuki snorts, pulling your arms harder he bring his hands over yours. he almost jumps at the contact "shit--you're freezing."

"i told you it's cold in here !"

he brings your hands up to his face as if to inspect them "nah, think this is just a you problem." he insists. you laugh, then tilt your head "so, you gonna help me out or not ?" you blink sweetly, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. he groans, swiftly turning back around and you think he's ignoring you now, but he's still got your hands in his grip. then he brings them to his skin, you hum at the feeling while he immediately hisses. "fuck.." you hear him say through his teeth.

"this is the best." you sigh, pressing your cheek to his back. your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh. "glad you're enjoyin' it." he bites sarcastically, you giggle against his shirt.

a kiss to his back "thank you, suki. you're the best." katsuki doesn't respond, and you're fine with that. listening to his soft breaths and the sound of the water boiling in the kettle. you hear him turn it off, slowly pouring the hot water in. you feel your hands warm up, and his shoulders untense at the feeling. he really is better than a heater.

"tell me somethin' i don't know, the shit i do for your ass.." he grumbles. you hear the swirling sound of the spoon against the ceramic of the mug, it clings and rings slightly in your ears. katsuki grabs it and turns around to hand it to you, scowl still very present on his features.

"here. warm up." he orders. the moment you make contact your entire body feels warmer. you sigh warmly, sitting down on one of the chairs in the kitchen. he leans against the counter, watching you blow away the steam before taking tiny sips of your drink.

"thank you, katsu.." you exhale in relief. "yeah, yeah.." he mutters, following suit and sitting down in his chair. no more words are exchanged as you quietly sip on your tea. “feel better ?” katsuki adds after a moment, you nod happily, gulping down your drink. he reaches for your hand when you place your mug down, squeezing to check for himself. “good. yer fuckin' hands were colder than icy hot's and that’s part of his whole damn quirk.”

"and what're you holding todoroki's hand for, you're not cheating on me with him are you ? ” you snort, he cranes his neck to look at you incredulously "i'll actually fucking kill you." you throw your head back and laugh. you miss your boyfriend's lips slowly twitching into a smile. he squeezes your hand in joking reprimand.

"i still prefer you, though. waaay better than the heater." you add cheekily, running your thumb over his skin, you like how the small action makes goosebumps rise against his skin.

"yeah ?" you nod intensely and your boyfriend scoffs. "..dumbass." he mutters, turning away and placing his hand over his mouth. " hey !" you exclaim, katsuki lets out a snort behind his hand. but he squeezes your hand even tighter, and you feel even warmer.

taglist :

@napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

[pucksandpower]

Hey Natalia, hope you’re doing good ❤️ Please could I request enemies to lovers with Max. You’re constantly at each other’s throats in front of everyone and Christian has had enough of your shit and demands to see you in the office. But when you continue to fight, he’s like nah I don’t wanna be involved, sort your shit out together and leaves. And you end up fucking on his desk and after you’re suddenly super friendly around eachother. Thank you lovely! xxx

Whiplash

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: You and Max discover that there is a thin line between lust and hate

Warnings: 18+ content

You storm into Christian’s office, scowling as Max follows right behind you. He slams the door shut and you both take a seat across from Christian, refusing to even look at each other.

“I’m sure you both know why I called you in here,” Christian says sternly. “The tension between you two has gone too far. It’s affecting the team and we can’t have that.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Why don’t you talk to him about it then? I’m not the problem here.”

Max scowls. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. You’ve been nothing but hostile towards me since the start of the season.”

“Only because you did the same!” You retort. “I was nothing but nice when I first joined the team. You’re the one with the attitude problem.”

“Enough!” Christian shouts, silencing you both. “I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it. We’re in the middle of a championship fight and I need my drivers to work together, not against each other.”

You sink lower in your chair, still refusing to look at Max. The animosity radiates off of him in waves.

“Now you’re going to stay in here until you work this out,” Christian says firmly. “I don’t care if it takes all night. Fix this mess or both of your seats are on the line.”

He heads for the door and you spring up from your chair. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Christian replies before shutting the door. You hear the lock click into place from the outside.

You jiggle the handle and pound on the door. “Let us out!”

No response.

He’s really done it, that bastard. Locked you in a room alone with your most hated rival.

You take a deep breath before turning around. Max sits there glaring at you, jaw clenched. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“For once we agree on something,” you snap.

His glare hardens. “Don’t pretend you’re blameless. You’ve been nasty since you got here.”

You storm over to him. “Because you decided to hate me from day one! I tried to be nice but you were so damn hostile. What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Max stands up abruptly, getting in your face. “My problem is you waltzing in here like you own the place when I’m the number one driver.”

You shove him in the chest. “Get over yourself! I earned my spot here.”

He shoves you back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Your blood boils as you stare him down. God he’s infuriating. And stubborn as hell. You doubt you’ll ever get him to admit any fault in this situation.

“Well I’m not going anywhere so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” you snap.

Max steps even closer, eyes blazing. Your noses nearly touch from how close he stands. “Is that so?” His voice comes out low, almost husky.

A shiver runs down your spine but you keep glaring at him. “Yeah, that’s so.”

You expect him to shoot back some nasty retort. Instead his eyes flick down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your heated gaze again.

Suddenly the energy shifts between you. The anger and tension remains but it transforms into something more primal. More dangerous.

Your breaths come heavier as electricity crackles in the nonexistent space left between you. Max’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your own.

“I ...” Your voice comes out hoarse. “We should ...”

But neither of you make any move to step away. Without thinking your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. Max tracks the movement with his intense stare.

“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his mouth onto yours.

You gasp into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. His hands grasp your hips roughly as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

You barely process what’s happening. One second you were at each other’s throats, the next his body is pressing urgently against yours.

A moan escapes you when his lips move to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin there and you thread your fingers into his hair.

“This is insane,” you pant out even as you tug him closer.

“I know,” Max breathes against your neck. His hands skim up your sides, pushing up your shirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you more.” You crash your lips together again, tasting blood when you nip at him.

Max groans into your mouth as your tongues slide together. He hitches one of your legs around his hip, grinding against you.

You break the kiss to tip your head back, moaning at the feeling. Fuck, you despise this man, but right now you need him more than anything.

His hips keep up that delicious friction as he mouths at your collarbone. “I’m still going to beat you,” he rasps out.

You smirk, nails digging into his shoulders. “In your dreams.”

Max’s eyes darken at your taunt. Without warning, he grips your thighs and lifts you onto Christian’s desk. You gasp as he pushes between your legs, his growing arousal obvious.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before crushing his mouth to yours once more.

You moan into the frenzied kiss, tongues tangling as you tug at his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, fumbling with the button of your jeans to push them down around your ankles. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him against your heated core.

Even through the layers of clothing you can feel how hard he is. You rock your hips, desperate for more friction. Max groans and moves his lips to your neck, nipping down to your collarbone.

Your head tips back as his fingers dance up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “God, I hate you so much,” you moan.

“I know.” His voice comes out rough, filled with lust.

Impatient, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes rake over his muscular chest and arms. Unable to resist, you lean in and scrape your teeth over his nipple.

Max hisses in a breath, hands clenching on your hips. “Fuck ...”

You grin, laving your tongue over the sensitive nub as your fingers move to his belt buckle. With shaky hands you get it open and reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

He shudders against you. “Shit, Y/N ...”

You stroke him firmly, reveling in the moans and curses falling from his lips. His own hands move under your shirt, palming your breasts through your bra.

It’s not enough. You strip off your shirt and reach back to unclasp your bra. Max wastes no time dipping his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

“Oh god ...” you gasp, back arching into him. His teeth and tongue work over your sensitive peaks until you’re writhing beneath him.

The sound of voices outside the door makes you both freeze. Fuck. The race weekend is still going on around you. Anyone could walk by and hear what’s happening.

You meet Max’s heated gaze. “We should stop,” you pant out half-heartedly.

His eyes blaze with defiance and lust. “No fucking way.”

Before you can react he drops to his knees, grasping your hips to pull you towards the edge of the desk.

Max tugs strongly on your lacy underwear until it gives way at the seams, baring you to him. He pauses to appreciate the view, eyes roaming hungrily over your glistening folds.

“I’m still going to beat you tomorrow,” he rasps.

You tug on his hair impatiently. “Just get on with it before we get caught.”

With a wicked grin he dives in, mouth latching onto your throbbing clit. You cry out, quickly slapping a hand over your own mouth.

You fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him. Max groans as you wrap your hand around his length.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his tongue in response. The desk rocks dangerously beneath you but neither of you slow your ministrations.

You whimper his name, pleasure building steadily under his expert touch. The fingers of one hand twist in his hair while you keep your other hand moving up and down in measured strokes as you near the edge.

“Look at me,” Max commands raggedly. You open your eyes to meet his wild gaze. The connection between you crackles.

“Max ...” you gasp as your climax crashes over you. You slap a hand over your lips, muffling your cries.

As you float back down, Max withdraws his mouth. You keen at the loss but then he’s lining himself up at your entrance. Gripping your hip tightly, he pushes inside in one smooth motion.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you adjust around him. Max trembles with restraint, giving you a moment before he starts to move.

Then he sets a relentless pace, the desk slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. You wrap your legs around him, spurring him even deeper.

Max pounds into you relentlessly, wrenching desperate moans from your lips. You’re vaguely aware of picture frames and papers tumbling to the floor around you but the chaos only adds to the thrill.

You’re close, the pressure building deep inside. With a few more well-angled thrusts you topple over the edge, coming hard around him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches sharply off the desk.

“There you go, princess,” Max rasps. He continues driving into your spasming center until his rhythm turns choppy and erratic.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Max grits out. You clench around him, greedy for his release. His hips stutter and then he spills inside you with a guttural groan. The sensation pushes you over the edge again, your vision whiting out from the intensity.

Breathing raggedly, Max collapses on top of you, pinning you to the desk. You’re both slick with sweat and utterly spent, your heart rates slowly returning to normal. You run your fingers through his damp waves soothingly.

The room is silent save for your heavy breathing. As the haze of lust clears, the ramifications of what just happened settle over you.

You just slept with your sworn rival on your team principal’s desk.

After a long moment Max pulls out of you and steps back, tucking himself away. On shaky legs you slide off the desk, stumbling slightly as you find your feet, and rush to put on your clothes.

Max grabs his shirt off the floor and shrugs back into it. His hair is mussed wildly and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure you look much the same.

You and Max spring apart at the sound of the lock clicking open. Christian strides back into his office, oblivious to the disheveled state that both of his drivers are in.

“Well, have you two worked out your differences?” He looks between you expectantly.

You smooth down your rumpled shirt and attempt to tuck your wild hair back into place. Your cheeks flame as you meet Christian’s gaze.

“I think we’ve come to an ... understanding,” Max says evenly, though you notice a hint of color in his cheeks as well.

Christian surveys his office, taking in the askew trophies and books scattered across the floor. You hold your breath, certain he’s going to put two and two together.

“It seems you had a disagreement about reorganizing my office during your chat,” Christian says wryly.

You nearly choke in surprise. Does he really not realize what just transpired on his desk? You chance a glance at Max and have to suppress a hysterical giggle at the disbelief on his face.

“I apologize for the mess, we got a bit ... heated,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the double meaning.

“Yes, clearly things escalated between you two.” Christian frowns at a photo of him and Dietrich Mateschitz now lying cracked on the floor. You resist the urge to shrink under his disappointed dad stare.

“However, the important thing is you’ve worked through this animosity once and for all, correct?” He looks between you expectantly.

You and Max nod in unison. “Water under the bridge,” Max assures him. You’re impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice even as you can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Excellent. I’ll inform the team that tensions are resolved and they can stop walking on eggshells around the both of you.” Christian claps his hands together, apparently satisfied. “Now get out of here and get ready for free practice.”

You and Max don’t need telling twice. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the laughter you’ve been holding in bubbles out.

“I can’t believe he actually bought that,” Max says between chuckles.

“We literally destroyed his office and he thinks we just had a minor spat,” you giggle, shaking your head incredulously.

Your laughter trails off as the reality of what happened sinks in. You just had crazy hot sex with Max Verstappen. Where do you go from here?

Before you can overthink it, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Meet me at the hotel tonight? We should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he murmurs suggestively.

You bite your lip but find yourself nodding. As complicated and ill-advised as this may be, you can’t find it in yourself to deny your attraction to Max now that you’ve given in to it.

“It’s a date,” you whisper back.

Max grins and steals another quick kiss before you part ways to get changed.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ PUSSY PRIVILEGES ARE GONE ❞

— talking about pussy + one mention of “dick privileges”, whiny satoru, poly! satosugu x afab! reader, serial manspreader + sassy man Suguru, black reader in mind :3

“You can’t do this to me.” Silence. “Baby, pleaseee!”

“Nah.,” you scoff. “Over with, pussy privileges are gone, and that’s final.”

“All because I don’t like the nickname?,” Suguru asks besides you, head cocked like a puppy.

You tug at Satoru’s strong hold around your waist. “Yep. Can’t get a kiss, can’t give my boyfriend a nickname. You two don’t love me anymore.”

Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, sinking further into the couch, traces of a pout falling over his face. He sighs. “What’s wrong with just calling me Sugu?”

You fight helplessly against Satoru, ignoring his continuous whining as he pulls you back into his lap. “What’s wrong with calling you ‘Papa Sugs’?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Huffing, with Satoru’s overdramatic and agonized moaning in the background. “Pft. Imma show you some damn serious.”

Suguru’s chuckle, exasperation creeping up the edges. “Sure. You’re gonna ban us from your pussy for…?”

“Indefinitely.,” you grunt, finally prying yourself from Satoru’s grip in his shock at your response.

“Baby!,” he whines, blinking shiny blue eyes at you beneath white lashes. “Baby, I-“

“Ohhh, so now I’m baby?”, you tease, rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t baby when you weren’t kissing me back, loser.”

“It was a joke!” Gojo puffs out his cheeks. “I’m a changed man, I promise.”

“Oh, okay.,” you smile at the knit of his brows. “You’re gonna be a changed man, alright.”

Satoru falls over into Suguru’s lap, stuffing his face into aforementioned man’s shirt and whining a muffled ,”You sooo hate us.”

“Whatever.,” you brush them off with a wave of your hand, heading to the kitchen. “Consider it a lesson in punishment.”

Six days. Just shy of a week before Suguru shows signs of cracking, because Satoru couldn’t withstand this whole thing to begin with. He’d tried everything from begging to gifts to taking your ‘dick privileges’, and then being immediately thwarted with a flick of your vibrator.

“That thing’s gonna replace us?,” Suguru snorts, nibbling the inside of his cheeks.

“It’ll do for now.,” you giggle with a raise of your chin. In truth, it didn’t even come close, but you’re far too petty to admit that.

“Can’t believe that is gonna get more action than me.,” Satoru groans into the pillows. “I’m gonna die at this rate.”

“Good.,” and he jolts up with wide eyes at your response. “I’ll make an example out of you for Geto.”

Satoru drags himself up to pout in your direction. "You could at least call me Satoru, he's the one you're upset with about names."

"No, first names are for boyfriends only."

Suguru lays sprawled out on the bed, legs spread open in retaliation, tapping around on his phone. "Oh? And when did we lose boyfriend privileges?"

"Since just then."

Both men narrow their eyes at you, glancing at eachother before Suguru massages a temple, lids fluttering as his eyes roll to the back of his head. "Fine, we're terrible boyfriends. Happy now?"

You adjust the towel around your chest, and disappear into the bathroom for a shower. "Nope, but I'm glad y'all know."

Ever dramatic, Satoru points an accusatory finger at Suguru. "This is your fault, she didn't take these privileges until you and that whole Papa Sug nonsense!"

"Well, you started it."

Their bickering raises bouts of giggles in your throat. Water spouts from the shower head when you turn the knob, and you tinker for a few minutes to get it to a temperature of your liking. At the sound of your 'ahem', both men go silent.

"First one to join me in the shower gets pussy privileges ba–“

There's a sound of rapid scuffling, Satoru's 'ow!', and then a flash of dark hair as Suguru slams and locks the door behind him.

"Not fair, I fell!," Satoru whines from the other side, jiggling the knob.

"Desperate are we?," you flash your tongue at Suguru as he strips bare.

"Mm." comes his quiet response, not wanting to fully admit this little game of yours was a lot more painstaking than he let on.

"Does that mean I get to call you Papa Sugs now?" Before he can open his mouth, you add, "If not then you gotta get out."

"Yes, kick him out!," Satoru pipes in, door now wide open and you notice the knob is not as attached as it was before.

Suguru sighs, throwing his shirt in Satoru's face before pinching your waist, and he smirks when you give a small yelp. "Fine."

[bloodibambiidoll]

Please turn this into a blurb mommmmmy https://www.tumblr.com/xxbimbobunnyxx/761850803036307456/rafes-gothgf-riding-passenger-seat

Oh, absolutely baby girl. This mayhap be a lil teaser for an AU I’m cooking up for after kinktober… Goth!Baddie!Reader, Car sex, brat reader, unprotected sex, daddy kink, creampie, mentions of throat fucking/spanking, choking 18+!!!!

“Would you quit that shit out?” Rafe scoffs as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye while he white knuckles the steering wheel. You’re both coming from his company work party and you exchanged the tight, black corset dress and platform heels you had on all night for a hoodie in the back of your boyfriend’s car. You left your fishnets on though. And you wouldn’t stop leaning forward to put your elbows on the dash while stretching your back and letting out these little groans. Rafe was about two seconds from losing it over the way your juicy ass looked every time the material of his hoodie rode up to show off your black thong. “I’m fuckin’ driving, put your ass away.”

“Why?” You tilt your head towards him, resting it on your forearms as you lean forward on the dash with your back arched as far as it can go. You bite your lip and wiggle your ass back and forth when you catch Rafe taking a quick glance at you over his shoulder. “Am I distracting you, daddy?”

“Now, that just isn’t even fair, princess.” You yelp when your boyfriend’s large hand suddenly comes down on your ass, he squeezes the meat of it tightly before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “Quit fuckin’ teasing me if you know what’s good for your little ass.”

“Keep fuckin’ teasing me if you know what’s good for your little ass - what’re you gonna do?” You giggle as you look over at him with your eyes filled with nothing but mischief. “You’re driving, dumb ass.”

“Fuckin’ excuse me?” Rafe slams on the breaks suddenly and luckily you’re on a fucking backroad in the middle of the night. He pushes the car into park before ripping the keys from the ignition and turning towards you with his eyes burning blue fire. You poked the bear, you know you did, but that’s what you wanted. “Get in the backseat. Now. Nah, don’t even argue, just fuckin’ do it.”

And that’s how you found yourself where you are now, your body practically folded in half in the back of Rafe’s car while he thrusts his cock into you so hard it shakes the entire vehicle. He has one hand on the back of your thigh, pushing it up against your chest in a way that was probably painful but the pleasure you were feeling outweighed it by a long shot. His other hand is wrapped tightly around your throat as he practically pins you to the leather seats with his body. Your makeup is completely fucked, your mascara and eyeliner are smudged beyond repair and the dark lipgloss you so perfectly reapplied was smudged down your chin along with Rafe’s load that he just spilled down your throat before slamming his cock inside you.

“Yeah, there’s my good little cock slut. This what you needed, huh? Just needed some fuckin’ dick?” Rafe practically growls as he watches your tongue roll across your chin and lips to lick the lingering parts of him off your skin and your pussy is squeezing him so fucking tight. He ripped your fishnets in half like they were nothing before pushing your thong to the side so he could fuck into your pretty little pussy. The material of your panties is rubbing against the side of his cock with each thrust and the bottom of your fishnets keeps slapping against his balls. “You’re so goddamn perfect. You act like such a little brat but at the end of the day all your are is my fuck Dolly, isn’t that right?”

“Yes daddy, yes, I’m just yours to use.” You moan deep in your throat as your pussy pulses around him, your perfectly manicured hands that he paid an assload for you to get the exact design you wanted claw at his back through his button down and he can tell you’re getting close for him.

“You gonna come for me? Be a good girl and gush all over daddy’s cock.” The hand on your thigh presses on your mound, feeling the bulge of his dick inside you with each thrust as he cups your clit with his palm and rubs rough circles against it. “Give me your cum, now.”

That has a blistering explosion of pleasure washing over you as you gush around his cock. Your juices drip down his balls and onto both of your thighs and that combined with the way your pussy is practically swallowing him whole makes his cock twitching deep inside you while ropes of his cum paint your walls. He pumps his hips against yours, filling you to the brim before pulling out and pulling your panties back over your pussy. Rafe leans down and places a filthy kiss on your lips and then shoves the oversized hoodie pressed up past your tits back down over your hips.

“Now get in your seat and no more bullshit till we get home. And if you think getting your throat fucked and getting dicked down in my backseat is punishment enough for your attitude not only in the car, but at the party tonight… Well, baby girl, that’s a really cute joke.” Rafe pats your cheek condescendingly before giving you a satisfied smile and climbing out of the car. You both get back into your respective seats and he starts the car, heading back toward the house. “I meant that I’m going to beat your little ass red when we get home, you realize that right?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say dad.” You scoff and roll your eyes at him before crossing your arms and throwing your feet up on his dash, which he hates.

“Oh, you are so fucked, you little slut.” Rafe chuckles darkly before pressing hard on the gas and speeding towards your house with you squealing and giggling. What can you say? You love a good punishment.

Tagging some moots: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @eddiesxangel @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @sturnioloshacker 🖤

Divider is by @strangergraphics

[1425fivefive]

landoscar & overstim for the kink prompts ?

landoscar & overstimulation my beloved!! (from the kink prompt asks)

“Please, I can’t—” Oscar breaks off on a frantic moan, thighs twitching next to Lando’s ears. When Lando glances up at him, Oscar’s eyes are squeezed shut, brows pulled together, hands tugging uselessly at the cuffs hooking his wrists to the headboard.

Lando mentally pats himself on the back for having the foresight to handcuff Oscar for this. He knows if Oscar could he’d be shoving Lando away, shaking from oversensitivity.

As it is, Oscar can only let out a devastated whimper when Lando sucks Oscar’s soft cock into his mouth, still sticky with the remnants of Oscar’s last orgasm. Lando wonders idly how many times he can make Oscar come tonight. This will only be Oscar’s second, and he’s already acting like he’s being tortured, back arching off the bed like he’s being electrocuted every time Lando licks over the head of his cock.

“Lando,” Oscar whimpers, flushed and sweaty, trying to twist away from Lando’s mouth. “Please, you have to—it’s so—oh.”

Oscar breaks off on a shaky moan, mouth dropping open as Lando slips two fingers into Oscar’s arse. The slide’s easy. Oscar’s still wet and open from when Lando fucked him. Lando aims for his swollen prostate right away, rubbing mercilessly as he starts up a steady rhythm on Oscar’s stiffening cock.

“Fuck, shit, I—” Oscar gasps, thighs slamming shut, whacking one of Lando’s ears.

Lando pulls off. “Should’ve tied your ankles too,” Lando muses, wincing when he brings the hand not currently buried in Oscar up to rub his sore ear.

Oscar immediately lets his thighs fall open, looking down at Lando with a devastated expression. “Sorry,” Oscar whispers.

“Nah, all good,” Lando says, leaning down to press a kiss to Oscar’s sensitive cock, grinning when Oscar whimpers. “Just, like, maybe try not to knee me in the face again? Sort of trying to ruin you right now.”

Oscar lets out a shaky laugh that turns into a moan halfway through when Lando slips a third finger into his arse.

“Maybe next time?” Oscar asks.

Oscar’s voice was so quiet Lando’s not sure he heard him correctly. “What next time?”

“Maybe next time you could like”—Oscar takes a shuddery breath, flush darkening—“tie my ankles, too.”

“God,” Lando moans, heat shooting through him at the confirmation that Oscar likes this, that Oscar likes this enough to want Lando to do it again.

Lando can’t help himself, has to lean down and suck Oscar’s cock into his mouth, groaning at the taste of Oscar’s pre-come dribbling onto his tongue. An image flashes through Lando’s mind of making Oscar come so much that he doesn’t have anything left, his cock twitching and throbbing with nothing coming out. Giving all of it to Lando.

Before long, Oscar’s trembling under him, cock growing impossibly harder in Lando’s mouth, leaking pre-come. Lando knows he’s close. Knows it’ll only take one well-timed thrust against Oscar’s prostate to have Oscar spilling in his mouth.

Oscar can’t stop whining, face, neck, and chest all flushed a gorgeous pink. His hair’s sticking to his forehead and he’s hiding his eyes against his bicep, like he can’t bear to see what Lando’s doing to him. Lando knows it probably hurts, knows Oscar wants to come even as he’s achy and oversensitive, even as he knows Lando won’t stop even after he comes. The thought has Lando’s hips hitching against the bedsheets, trying to get some relief.

“Close,” Oscar gasps. He doesn’t sound happy about it and Lando sees a tear slip from the corner of Oscar’s eye.

When Lando moans around him and sucks hard, exactly the way Oscar normally likes, Oscar lets out a desperate sob, shaking his head frantically. “No,” Oscar begs. “No, I—don’t make me come.”

Lando doesn’t hear Oscar’s safe word, so he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing.

Oscar comes with an awful little whimper, whole body shaking as he fills Lando’s mouth with a pitiful amount of come. When Lando keeps sucking even after Oscar’s come, Oscar’s leg kicks out and his hands open wide above his head, fingers splaying out.

“Stop,” Oscar pleads, twisting underneath him. “Please, stop, I can’t—oh.”

But Lando keeps sucking him, enjoying the sobs Oscar lets out, the way he can’t seem to figure out whether he’s loving or hating it, pushing up and pulling away from Lando’s mouth.

Eventually, Lando’s own arousal is too pressing to ignore and he pulls off Oscar’s cock, shuffling up the bed.

Oscar goes lax against the bed, brow smoothing, and Lando wants to laugh when he realizes Oscar thinks they’re done. That Lando would really let him off the hook after two measly orgasms.

Lando doesn’t say anything to correct that misunderstanding, just grabs the lube and slicks up his cock.

Oscar doesn’t realize what’s happening until Lando’s already pushing in.

Oscar’s eyes fly open and he looks up at Lando with a panicked expression, his face wet with sweat and tears, skin flushed an outraged pink.

“God, Osc,” Lando moans, getting his hands on the backs of Oscar’s thighs and pushing, spreading Oscar open. The slide’s impossibly easy, Oscar too fucked out to do anything more than moan and clench weakly around Lando, rim barely able to tighten.

“Lando,” Oscar whines. “I can’t—hurts.”

Lando snorts. “What’re you complaining about? You get to come again.”

Oscar’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, frantic. “No, I don’t—I don’t want to.”

“Already, Osc?” Lando asks with a mean little laugh. He starts up a steady rhythm, moaning at the sight of Oscar’s soft cock bouncing against his stomach. “Remember you saying you could give me at least four.”

Oscar screams at that, toes curling, hands scrabbling at the cuffs. “I can’t,” Oscar pleads. “I can’t, fuck, no.”

Lando shrugs, bringing a hand down to play with Oscar’s spent cock, heat flaring in his belly when Oscar sobs at the feeling, trying to get away.

“Nah, you’re right,” Lando says. “Reckon you can give me at least five.”

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Four -> Next Chapter

You woke up with a groan, your chest feeling so much heavier than before, your head felt as if you had just slammed it against a brick wall. It felt hard to breathe and your right arm and leg felt numb. You shifted on the bed you laid on, opening your eyes and you were blinded by the light above you which drew another grown from you.

“No, no, no, don’t move.” You heard a voice that you could not fully process as a hand came onto your upper chest, pushing you back onto your back, it was probably Dick’s voice you think, or maybe it was Tim. “You’re pretty badly injured from the crash, the old man is pretty upset right now, probably best to not to push anymore buttons tonight.”

You slowly came to, your vision clearing up and you would have felt sick if you did not feel terrible already. You laid on a very comfortable bed, your old bed, your current bed was rough, something you could just barely afford after saving expenses for other things. There was an IV in your left arm and bandages on your right arm, leg as well if you had to guess but your lower body was covered with a blanket. Your clothes had been changed, a pair of pajamas you remember having just got a day before you left. You turned your head to see Dick sitting there, a chair pulled up to your bedside, he had changed his clothing, black sweatpants and a dark blue shirt.

“What happened-“

“You skinned the right side of your body on one of the bridge wires, tore right through your suit, along with a bruised lung.” Another voice added on, Tim Drake, he was sitting on the other side of your bed, opposite side of Dick. “You could have died if it wasn’t for Dick.”

“At least I wouldn’t be here.”

“Someone tried to kill you and that’s what you have to say? God…” You heard Tim sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t even be grateful for having your life saved.”

“They weren’t trying to kill her, someone who was trying to kill her like that would have just tried to take a shot at her.” Dick spoke to Tim, speaking as if you were not even lying between them. “They wanted her alive, but they failed their mission cause she went flying off the bridge and would have died.”

“Can you two just shut the hell up, I already have a headache.” You threw your head back on your pillow, closing your eyes, but you were certainly aware enough to grab Tim by the wrist when he tried to brush the hair out of your face. “Don’t talk to me… just get out.”

“Nah, Bruce said not to leave you alone.” Dick responded, his fingers prying yours off of Tim’s wrist. You groaned at hearing his words, keeping your eyes screwed shut while trying to drown out the throbbing pain in your limbs. “You should try to eat or drink something, I think Alfred made you something in-“

“I’m not hungry, pass.” You felt a creak in your bones as you turned your body around onto your non injured side. The moment the side of your body shifted onto the bed you felt Tim’s hands on your skin, shifting your body and his body to bring your head to rest on his lap as if you were some small kitten who needed to be held. “Where are my things?”

“Why do you need them?” You heard Tim ask from above you, his fingers coming to run through your hair, scratching at your scalp. “You’re not going back out there like this.”

“My friends… they could be in danger-“

“They don’t matter right now-“

“They matter to me, Dick!” You cut your oldest brother off when he cut off your answer to Tim’s question. “If anything happened to them I would never be able to forgive myself.”

There was a thick silence in the room after your words, you heard the chair Dick sat in shift against the wooden floor of your room as he stood up.

“Bruce has your gear right now, he’s reviewing the footage from it to see who did this to you. I’ll see if he’ll let you use it.” You heard the door to your bedroom open and close after Dick’s words in response to your shout.

“…What happened to you?” You heard Tim ask, his fingers pausing in your hair. “You used to be so sweet.”

“I was only like that because if I acted up I would be punished.” You sat up, pushing his hands off of you and your right hand pulled out the IV out of your left arm, and you could hear the sharp intake of breath from Tim beside you. “Don’t think I never knew you put cameras in this room or that I never realized that when I misbehaved at all or pushed any of you away that you would spike my meals with a sedative and call my teachers at school and just tell them I was sick.”

“You never listened to us!”

“I shouldn’t have to! I should have grown up with just my mom because that is what she wanted to do!” You stood up, slipping out from the bed, you glanced at Tim and he had shifted as if to catch you as if you were going to fall. You were in slight discomfort but you had built an extremely good pain tolerance over the years so you were fine, but clearly they would never recognize your current strength. You scoffed at Tim’s worried reaction to you standing up on your own, shaking your head. “You still think I am weak… oh my god fuck you.”

“You know you’re not supposed to say things like that.” Tim scolded you at your usage of foul language. He stood up from your bed, reaching out for you, his hands coming to grip both of your shoulders. “Just stop-“

You leaned back, shifting your weight so you fell back, dragging Tim back with you. You extended your left leg up so it kicked him right in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flying and crashing into your bedroom mirror, shattering it and digging into his skin.

“I will say the good thing about being seen as weak by you all is that I am always able to take you all by surprise, especially now, like I said that to Dick to get him out of the room.” You spoke simply before grabbing the chair Dick was sitting in just moments ago and hurling it at your bedroom window, breaking it with an extremely loud shattering sound that echoed through the room, probably the manor. You saw out of the corner of your eye, Tim slowly getting up so you did not waste a second, you went running to the window, jumping out.

You heard Tim shout your name, your birth name as you landed on the ground, but you did not stop running. You ran straight to the back of the garden, you knew that behind a bush, against the tall iron fence that surrounded the manor, there was a divot under the fence that you dug when you were bored as a child. It was perfectly hidden from view so that no one else could see it or find it, even now it was still there, water and rainfall over the years only making it deeper so you could crawl out of it still.

By the time you were on the other side of the fender you could hear shouting from back at the manor, at least Tim told Dick by now if not the whole house if they did not hear the shattering of the mirror and window. You did not look back, just kept running and running…

_______________________

“Hey, stop squirming so much!” Nettle scolded you as he pressed a disinfectant covered cloth against one of your broken window induced wounds on your arm. You had made it back to the warehouse in one piece due to running into Clove by chance when she was looking for you as her civilian self. “I’m almost done, ‘kay?”

“…fine…”

You sat on the dining room table while Nettle cleaned your wounds from the jump from the window, the others were all near, Foxglove digging into a pear for her breakfast as she leaned against the kitchen counter, Clove laying across one of the couches and Henbane’s lap as the two of the scrolled on their phones. Nettle snipped off a bit of bandage after he wrapped it over your wound on your arm before setting the roll of bandages and scissors down in the medical kit.

“There, all done, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Nettle asked you as he held his hand out to you to help you down from the table, you just mumbled out a response in thanks, far too tired to form actual words. “Let’s get you to bed-“

“My room is too far.” You whined, glancing up at the metal staircase on the back wall that led to the rooms which were old storage rooms that you renovated into your bedrooms. You let Nettle lead you to one of the couches instead, helping you lay down on it and pulling a thick weighted blanket over your shivering body. Your whole body was in pain now, you were barefoot when you slipped away from Wayne Manor which resulted in your feet ending up being fifty shades of messed up, bruised and bloodied. “Thanks, Nettle.”

“Anytime.” Nettle sat down on the ground next to your couch. He glanced up at you with a smile. “You’re off patrol for the next week.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” You groaned, throwing your head back which drew laughs from Clove and Henbane on the opposite couch.

“Look Mr. Austen needs to make a new suit for you and the tech is custom made because your old one is back… ya you get my point.” Foxglove chimed in, her voice trailing off. “But hey, you could take some time off for yourself, go get drinks, maybe have that boyfriend of yours over that you visited the other night.”

“H-how… how do you know about that?” You shot up, groaning in slight pain as you moved too quickly and your response drew laughter from everyone. “H-how- I turned off my comm line…”

“No you didn’t.” Foxglove spoke, her voice full of laughter. “No, you see you turned your camera in your mask on, looks like the rush of the moment got to you both.”

“…you… you all heard us have sex…” You lay there on the couch, wide eyed in the realization.

“Heard it… and saw some of it.” Clove answered and your face turned the brightest shade of red. “But hey he is really cute, definitely a keeper.”

“…my best friends saw me have sex with my boyfriend I haven't seen in four years.” You stared up at the ceiling and buried your face in your hands. “I wish I fell off that bridge.”

“Hmm well if you want you can have him over tonight, show him around while everyone else is on patrol and Foxglove is working the comm lines, have a nice stay at home date.” Clove suggested as she sat up from Henbane’s lap. “I think I picked up a really good red wine if you two want to split that.”

“Clove, thank you for your idea, but his idea of a stay at home date is getting food from a five star restaurant and watching a movie in his home theater. Or sometimes he’d order chocolate covered strawberries and we would hide in his mother’s office when one of my siblings, normally Tim, came looking for me.” You explained and there was a long silence from your friends as the reality of your old life set in. “And that red wine you bought cost fifteen dollars, the stuff his family bought cost five hundred dollars at the very least. I just- look I don’t know about him coming here, I mean we live in a warehouse, a nice warehouse but still, he is rich, like one of the oldest families in Gotham rich.”

“Well then… I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.” Clove said in an awkward silence taking hold of the room. “I messaged him on one of his social media accounts and asked him to come over and surprise you since you are sort of stuck here… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine… he probably never saw it anyway, he’s busy-“

“Not too busy for you.” You made the mistake of looking away from Foxglove, not seeing her get up to go get the door with her crutches and letting in the guest that came knocking. You all turned your heads to see the familiar blond boy you spent that night with just the other day. Gabriel was let in through the back door, carrying something that you assumed to be a gift basket, all dressed up in his thick wool coat and scarf along with those Italian leather gloves he always wore. He smiled at the sight of you laying down on the couch, he set the gift basket down beside the couch and bent down to press a kiss to your lips as you opened your arms to him in your tired state. “Hi angel.”

“Hi love.” You responded, before gesturing to Gabriel and looking at all of your friends. “His is my boyfriend, Gabriel Christel. We met back in middle school when I first moved to Gotham after my mom married my father and then we started dating in high school and well you all know the rest.”

“It’s lovely to meet you all, thank you for looking after her.” He looked around at all of them before his eyes fell over to Clove and a look of recognition came across her face at the sight of her. “You’re Clove, right? Thank you for reaching out to me, I think we are going to be very good friends.”

“I hope so.” Clove smiled as she stood up from the couch, glancing around at everyone else in the room. “We… we should go, we got patrol and… ya… you two have fun.”

“We will.” You replied to Clove as she pulled Henbane up from the couch and Nettle quickly followed behind her as well, going to get changed and prepared before patrol. You looked back up to Gabriel who was standing over you and as soon as he saw your eyes were on him, he kneeled down onto the carpet, on eye level with you so you could press a kiss to his cheek, just under his eye. “Hello handsome.”

“Hello beautiful-“

Gabriel was cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat and you both turned your heads to look at Foxglove standing just a few feet away with her crutches due to her injury on her foot that she was recovering from. She smiles at Gabriel, looking him dead in the eye.

“I like you a lot, but hurt her at all and we will destroy you.” She spoke those words with a smile, but there was a certain chill about them that would probably even make your father shudder. “Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

_______________________

“My bedroom is the last one on the left.” You spoke as your boyfriend carried you on his back, one hand reaching back and holding your thigh and the other carrying that gift basket, your arms wrapped around his neck. He pushed open the door and stopped for a moment, before walking forward and setting you down on the bed. “Thank you, lovey.”

He looked around your bedroom as he came to sit down beside you. Old floorboards creaked beneath his weight, the walls were brick with white pants covering them, slowly chipping away from the top down. The ceiling was high with all sorts of pvc pipes and air vents, the windows were tall but the glass was thin. The bed was an iron bed frame, polished and then painted over black and then the dressers and nightstand were all sorts of different pieces you found and painted over the years.

“Foxglove is downstairs on the comm lines tonight.” You said as you laid down on the right side of the bed, propping yourself to sit up against your pillows. “So it’s just me and you until patrol is over.”

“Ya… I suppose it is.” He set the basket at the foot of the bed and reached in and pulled out a bottle of red wine and a glass, you watched as he filled up the glass halfway and handed it to you. “Here you go, dove.”

“I love you.”

“Mmm, are you saying that to me or the wine?”

“Both.” Small laughs escaped from both your lips and he wrapped his arm around you as you took a sip of the red wine from the glass. You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. “I missed this… I missed this a lot.”

“So did I.” He replied to you, there was a palpitate pause in the air and he took a deep breath in and out. “Angel… how long are you going to be doing this?”

“Doing this?”

“Living in a warehouse, being a vigilante, hiding away from everything? I mean look at you, your body is so fucked up and I don’t even know what caused most of it.” His voice took on a heavy tone of concern which felt like a large weight on both of your shoulders. “I want to settle down and have a life with you, I don’t want to worry about where you are.”

“I… what are you saying?” The air left your lungs as you watched Gabriel stand up from the bed and walked over to your side of the bed, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling over a small navy blue velvet box and getting down on his knee.

“Marry me.” You just stared down at him and a bit of a bashful smile came across his face as a small chuckle slipped from his lips, shaking his head slightly. “It was my great grandmother’s ring and I know I couldn’t ask your mother or father for their blessing but no one hardly sees your mother anymore and your father… well he doesn’t like me and well I don’t know if they know you’re around anymore and-“

“I… I don’t know…”

[itstheghostofmypast]

20.16

Idol AU Song Mingi x (F)Reader

Summary: At this point, he was third wheeling- no he was being FORCED to be a third-wheel.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.9k

Est.Read Time: 9 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

"Which is why I was all, nah girl, you don't tell me when I can or can not print and-" she paused in between her story to stare at the man in front of her in...shock? No, disgust? No, it was amusing- actually, it was straight up out of the box kind of nonsense he’d sometimes do.

"Then what did she say?" The blonde looked up from his plate as if nothing had happened, blinking at her like she was the clown for stopping her story mid way. To think she had spent hours making this meal for the two of them to enjoy and he would just push the greens aside like that- a grown man?

“You gonna eat those?” she snapped back, pointing at the greens on the corner of his plate with her fork, “They’re cooked you know?”

“Oh…uh…” he stared at the broccoli and then up at her, clearing his throat he shook his head, “The thing is…I don’t…I’m not a big fan of broccoli, though I do eat other vegetables now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, it’s been around 3 years.”

“Mingi, you're 25 years old.”

“I know, I started when I was 22, Yunho said I should start small.”

She took a deep breath and turned in her chair to look at the man who was sitting there frozen with an uncomfortable smile, staring at the rerun of a show on his PC, knowing this was one of those nights again- word of advice never introduce your best friends from different friend groups, and never ever in a million years let them get together.

“You said start small?”

“I don’t wanna be a part of this,” turning to look at the couple sitting at the small table- why the hell were these two having dinner in his room anyway? Mingi wasn’t even living in this dorm.

“You don’t wanna be a part of this but you expect me to cook for you too?” she snapped back, slamming her fork on the table, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the chair, then looking at her boyfriend, “And you, eat your damn vegetables, don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot.”

“I do eat them!!” he countered back, staring at her all doe eyed, “Why are you so upset, your plate doesn’t even have broccoli!”

“That’s because she hates broccoli.” Yunho mumbled, instantly regretting it when he heard Mingi gasp, “He knows this but not me!?” the taller, but dumber, man pouted at his girlfriend, frowning at the face she made, hitting him with the, “Just like how he knew you started eating vegetables are 22.”

“Guys, why are you two even arguing at this point?” Yunho sighed, finally turning around in his gaming chair, his eyebrow twitching at the state of his room. Mingi’s jacket was on Yunho’s unmade bed, her purse was tossed onto the other end of the bed, and the thousand-piece puzzle the couple had been busy with an hour ago lay half unfinished on the floor, not to mention the scattered pieces around it. The man looked at the couple staring off before eying the third plate heaped with food, “You really made food for me?”

“You did shamelessly ask for it.” she mumbled before reaching over and picking up the piece of green vegetable from her boyfriend’s plate, dumping it on Yunho’s.

“You shouldn’t ask her to cook for you if you aren’t gonna eat it.” Mingi turned to glance at his best friend before reaching over and opening Yunho’s unopened can of soda and pouring it in a glass for her, “it’s rude.”

“Yes, my apologies, I’m the rude one in this friend group.”

“Kinda seems like it.” She mumbled poking around her plate, only to stop when she felt a warmer hand on hers, glancing up at his warm, brown eyes, “You don't like broccoli?”

“I'm allergic to it.” Clarifying she leaned closer, pulling his plate closer to her to pick out the broccoli pieces, “Which vegetables do you eat ?” She asked, ignoring Yunho who was now making his bed again.

“Hmmm…potatoes and peas…sometimes carrots.”

“...The three most basic ass- Dude!?” Pulling back she let out an exasperated sigh, earning a snort from her boyfriend who just shrugged, “I'm a man, meat is what I need.”

Her brows touched the roof at that statement, lips pursing into a weird smirk, the words at the tip of her tongue, about to slip off but the third party slammed his hands on the table and pulled the table closer to his bed, the rattling of the cutlery had the two panicking, trying to hold onto the things.

“YUNHO!” The yelled in unison earning a snort from the man.

“What? It's my room? I can do whatever I want.” He stated as a matter of fact picking up Mingi's fork and frowning at his plate that was now heaped with unwanted broccoli- god, these two. Pushing them aside he reached over and took her class that was filled with HIS soda.

“I'm just saying, you should tell me this stuff, not him.” Mingi sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he noticed how she was on her phone now, typing away. He had wanted to spend tonight with her, but Wednesday was bros night, him and Yunho- though for a while she'd been part of this Wednesday routine. It was during one of those boring, mundane Wednesdays he had somehow come to the conclusion that with her nothing was mundane. That's why he had approached Yunho, asking him if it was a good idea, and for some reason, Yunho instantly agreed. Maybe he wanted to get a breather away from Mingi?

Of course, Yunho said yes to this idea- hell she had been begging Yunho for tips on how to have the cute but dumb tall oaf like her back? She'd been pinning on him ever since Yunho had introduced her to him, especially since the first time they met he said the most uncanny thing about her that day, “Nice wallpaper, did you take the picture yourself?”

Yes, she had taken the picture but she liked two things about him; he's so nosy it's kinda funny- and it was nice to be noticed?- and secondly he was observant. Song Mingi was extremely observant, to his physical and emotional surroundings, even though he'd pretend not to notice or acknowledge a lot of things about a lot of people. It was different when it was with her, she could feel it, she could feel how he'd be looking at her more often than she'd like to admit, he'd do things for her that he'd never done for Yunho, like opening a bottle or handing her a tissue before she needed it or even moving off his chair to offer it to her. That was all something she'd seen before in a few of her other useless dates, but there was something different about how he'd look at her, how his features would soften while speaking to her, his choice of words would be more thoughtful and his tone, god, his deep voice would have a subtle tenderness to it, one that had her begging Yunho to set her up with him.

Unknown to her, their mutual friend had been a victim of a similar form of nagging by Mingi, who had been literally harassing the poor man. Waking him up in the middle of the night, calling him to ask the most stupid questions out there,

“What's her favourite colour?”

“Why don't you ask her YOURSELF!?”

“Are you dumb? I can't wake her up at 3AM to ask her that.”

“Song Mingi-”

“Hurry~ I need to order the socks but I'm stuck between cement grey or her favourite colour!”

That’s why Mingi after a few weeks was caught wearing a pair of bright-coloured socks that unknown to the world (other than Yunho) around him, matched the socks of his new girlfriend.

“I'd tell you this stuff if you tell me this stuff!” She whined, placing her phone down and grabbed Yunho's glass, chugging down the remaining cherry soda.

Yunho looked up at her then made a face that a blind man could read, “TF is wrong with you?"

“I do! But I can't just randomly say, ‘Oh hey love, I actually eat quickly because I'm still used to the rush I'd feel while running to Yunho's school just to have lunch with someone and running back to my school!’ it's so random.” He sighed, reaching over to grab a tissue - the last tissue in the box, tissue he clearly saw Yunho reach out for first.

“But that's what I like about you Mingi! You're spontaneous! You're random and-”

“You're annoying.” His mumble cut off the girl who turned to glare at the man before looking at her big dumb dumb show as pouting at his plate, “Ignore him- I like how random you are sometimes, it make me feel like I cross your mind often and I like that….a lot.” Her words ended up becoming a hushed whisper, somewhat embarrassed of expressing herself so blatantly.

“You're always on my mind.” He gave her a small smile, one that made her heart leap before it turned into his usual cocky smirk, “Even on stage when I-”

“HELLO! EXCUSE ME, PLEASE DON'T FORGET I AM STILL HERE!”

“Why are you still here?” She side eyed the third wheeler who was staring at her with his eyes about to burst out of his skull.

“Excuse-”

“She's right, Yunho, we know you like us but you gotta stop third wheeling sometimes.”

The brunette blinked at the two for a moment, letting their words sink in before letting out a loud sigh.

“I can't believe he'd do that!” She exasperated, earning a chuckle from the extremely tall man behind her as the two walked towards his apartment, her voice bouncing in the empty corridor.

“Well, we did take it a bit too far.” Snickering he unlocked the door and opened it wide for her, motioning for her to enter first, only so he could admire the jacket she was wearing, his jacket, one that was big one too many sizes with her arms flailing around ad she continued. “No, no! We were his guests! You just don't throw out a guest! I cooked too!”

He followed her into his room, clutching onto her purse as he shook his head in amusement, “I think it was the soda.” Flopping down next to her on his bed he sighed, turning his head to face her, smiling at how she was already looking at him, “Hey there.”

“I think he's just jealous- or it was the mess- nah he's just jealous.” she declared, swinging an arm over his form, and hooking a leg over his waist, clinging onto him like a koala, “That I get Min-ki all to myself~”

A deep laugh bubbled through him, his chest vibrating with full force causing the bed to shake, earning a giggle from her as he gave a 100% Mingi smile, with his nose crinkling and eyes closing. In return she pressed her lips against his forehead before nuzzling her face into his shoulder, “Next time just be your random self.”

“Next time, just agree with me when I say let's have dinner at my place.”

“But then how will we annoy him, Mingi~”

“I think he'll file a restraining order at this point.”

“Not if we file one first!” she sat up, looking down at him with a smile that had his heart skipping a beat, reaching up to brush her hair out of her eyes to get a clearer view of the person who had become his reason of being.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

[katsukikitten]

Landing on your back with a sickening crunch makes the rage in you burn brighter. Bringing your knees to your chest to slam your feet straight into his sternum.

With any luck you'll break it.

But you doubt it, he wasn't tied in the number one spot for no reason and he was no stranger to hand to hand despite his quirk.

Still he staggers backward enough for you to get to your feet, sharp black tipped claws poised to slash although you must be careful. His reach is larger than yours and you've had to break your wrist to get out of his grip before. Your previous encounter shines brightly in jagged ruby scabs on his forearms decorating his other more detrimental scars.

"Hah? What's wrong?" His lips turning up into a smirk as he lunges and you jump back again, "Scared I'll get ya?"

"Nah, just don't wanna fork over another fortune to get my shit fixed again." Throwing a kick that he ducks to dodge, grabbing onto your ankle to pin under his armpit, his other hand coming to clamp down just below your knees. Palm burning your skin through your dark skin tight suit, you can tell he's tempted to apply more pressure to snap your leg at an odd angle.

The papers were right, he'd be a much better villain.

"They make ya go to therapy? Ya know for your anger management? Bet ya get in trouble for hero brutality all the time." He hears this type of shit all the time in the media, the most it gets out of him now is an eye roll but when you say it it's like your claws are scraping at his bones. He bares his teeth and the time it takes him to think of a retort that you're able to twist your body with precision.

Letting your steel toed boot slam right into his handsome jaw. He doesn't stagger, it's annoying how much he can take but his grip loosens when you add.

"They have to, right? Otherwise the people wouldn't have let you tie with Deku huh?"

Freeing yourself expertly just out of his reach again as you dodge a swipe of his glowing hot palm.

"Ya fuckin talk too much."

"Ya didn't say that the last time you pinned me under you." You giggle and his throat burns red, swallows thickly as he lunges, wrapping you in his large arms. Pressing your chest against his b

"That was from a quirk. I ain't into you like that." He growls, nose to nose and all it does is make you smile.

"Oh?" A purr of your voice, leaning to whisper into his ear, haughty as you recall what he said to you that night, "So when you said 'fuuuuck sweetheart yer made for me' ya didn't mean it?"

It puts him into the moment instantly, him gripping onto your hips as he bounces you on his cock in doggy in the dingy alley behind a bar, you looking back at him with pretty tears in your eyes moaning out his name. His real name.

"Right, Katsuki." You can feel his heart rate increasing, feel his grip adjust in a different manner, "That's why you keep looking for me? Keep calling me?"

Leaning back as he lets up enough your arms are free, nails going to his undercut as you recalled he liked, scratching gently as you watch this hero melt in your touch.

"I thought you hated liars, baby."

"Stop." He bites, arms moving down to fall on your natural waist, one palm coming back up to squeeze your rib cage in warning.

"Stop what?"

"Stop using your quirk, yer slutty ass sex pollen shit." His eyes flicker to your lips, to the dark color he knows will smear against his mouth or the base of his cock like he's seen it before.

"That's the thing, Katsuki." You lean up lips inches from his and you'd be stupid to ignore the magnetism between the two of you, "I'm not using a quirk at all. You want me."

Suddenly your claws are sharp at his back, too sharp as you dig them deep using it as leverage to get fully out of his grip. Scaling the wall as another hero's foot steps can be heard barreling down the maze of alleyways you lead Dynamight down in a poor attempt to lose him.

"Find me again." Your giggle echoes around the space only to echo around his head until he catches a glimpse of a dark body suit slinking around in the shadows again.

[porcelainseashore]

A Party of Two

First snow / Fake relationship / Ugly sweater || Leon Secret Santa || Gift for @sillydicejelly as part of the @leonsecretsanta event

Summary: It’s not every day that you bump into the one and only Agent Kennedy alone at the office. And it’s certainly not every day that you invite a stranger to your family’s Christmas party. The question is, can you convince Leon to celebrate his most hated holiday with you?

Time flies. Before you knew it, nearly another year had gone by, along with its series of missions done and dusted. It was a week before Christmas, and a particularly unassuming mid-December morning when you stepped into the office elevator, engrossed with your phone and the multitude of messages coming in from your family group chat. The screen lit up with a loud ping each time a new one was sent.

“Aunt Gretchen won’t be able to make it this time.”

“Damn, that’s a shame /s”

“Language!”

“Yes, mooooommmm…”

“Anyway, don’t forget the dessert!”

“And the dress code!”

“Hey! Could you hold the doors for a sec—” A deep baritone voice rang out in the distance, interrupting your reverie.

Oops. You shook your head from your thoughts, glancing up at an all-too-familiar face and a pair of cerulean blue eyes piercing through dirty blonde curtain bangs. He made a run for it as you slammed your hand against the closing elevator.

“Agent Kennedy,” you greeted politely with a simple nod.

“Uh-uh,” he wagged his finger cheekily, somehow managing to slide through the doors gracefully without breaking out into a sweat. “It’s just Leon.”

“Leon,” you acknowledged. 

It was refreshing how he didn’t have a stick up his ass like the rest of the goons who worked in the DSO, regardless if he was the golden boy or not. However, since you were in different departments, you hardly interacted with each other outside of the required formalities. It didn’t help as well that you considered yourself more of a wallflower than anything. Surely he wouldn’t—

As if right on cue, he uttered your name, followed by, “Angela’s PA, right?”

“How did you—” “You think I wouldn’t know who the amazing PA of the head honcho is?” he rebutted, his lips curling up in a smile as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

You were at a loss for words. “Um,” was about all you could manage.

“Come on, don’t die on me now,” he laughed, shrugging as he continued, “I’m just good with names, faces, you know, all that jazz.” He fanned his hands to illustrate his point before pausing abruptly and dropping them down to his sides, as if he had remembered that he was in a security division, not a children’s playground.

Clearing his throat sheepishly, he turned to the control panel. “Second top floor, right?” Without waiting for you to answer, he punched the button and the lift started to move.

The silence in the space was awkward and deafening, so much so that you felt an innate desire to make small talk to pass the time.

“So, you doing anything for Christmas?”

For a split second, you spotted a wince in Leon’s expression before he masked it, and you instantly regretted the words you had blurted out.

“N-nah, not really,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a cordial smile. “Not my thing.”

Pursing your lips, you recalled the way your colleagues often heaped praises and compliments onto the man before you, only to gossip about his personal life in hushed whispers behind his back. That was the double-edged sword of being something akin to a celebrity hero in the office. It usually went along the lines of:

“Poor Leon, that guy’s a loner. No partner, no kids, no family.”

“No wonder he’s a workaholic!”

“I heard he’s pretty good friends with the bottle, if you know what I mean.”

“With the kinda shit they put him through? I’d be damaged goods myself.”

You had heard it all. And though you were never consulted for your opinion of him, you found their talk a little mean-spirited.

Without thinking, you stated, “We’re having a small celebration at my parents’ house. It’s only about an hour and a half’s drive away. You’re welcome to join if you want?”

Your hand flew to your mouth, shocked that you had actually uttered the first thing that came to your mind. Leon just stared at you, seemingly having trouble finding the right words to say.

Scrambling to come up with an excuse or to backtrack, or both, you sputtered, “Well, uh, you see, we have this thing where, uh, it’s not great to spend the holidays alone. You know? So, well, sorry, forget what—”

At this, Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you. “Thanks, really, it’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright.” On my own.

You had no idea what possessed you to do what you did next, but you whipped out a sticky note from your bag and scribbled down your number with a ballpoint pen.

“Here,” you thrust it into his hands. He looked just as surprised as you. “Just… think about it, okay?”

Ding.

The doors opened and you hastily made your exit, mentally cussing at yourself for being so bold and assuming toward an almost-stranger.

“What’s the dress code?” you heard his voice call out from behind you.

Spinning around, you caught a glimpse of his lopsided grin as you smiled back. “Ugly Christmas sweater, of course.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

“No promises.”

That was the last text you received from him on the day of the Christmas Eve party. Leon appeared to have cold feet, which didn’t take you by surprise, seeing as he had been hesitant to begin with.

You sighed.

Perhaps it would take him a couple more years to come round to it. What on earth were you thinking anyway, inviting him to a family-do like that? Not to mention, you had already written in the group chat about bringing a plus one. Jumping the gun much? Well, at least you still had an afternoon’s worth of errands to run and distract yourself with. You could worry about the explanation later.

Soon, the gifts were wrapped up and ready to go, and the spiced ginger Yule log you had baked sat pretty on the counter. After loading all of the goodies into the backseat of your car, you started the engine and embarked on the long drive to your parents’ house.

In the meantime, Leon had been lounging on his living room couch, complete with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand as he swirled the melting ice in it lazily. Such a let-down, he thought. You didn’t deserve that, and as a matter-of-fact, you didn’t deserve any of this. He peered at the liquor bottle he had just cracked open, mocking him as he gulped down the remnants of the liquid from his chilled glass.

Smacking it onto the table, he was about to pour himself another shot when his phone buzzed. He saw your name flash up on his screen. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to check or answer it during his drinking sessions, but this time, curiosity got the better of him. It was a message with an attachment. Hmm, interesting.

Upon opening it, he saw a selfie of you posing in your horrendous-looking sweater and a mouth-watering dessert behind you. You were holding a present in one hand and making a funny face. The message read, “Come to the dark side, we have cake…”

He burst out laughing—he had to admit, it was rather cute of you to try, especially when no one else had before. Fiddling with the device in his hand, he hesitated, wondering if he should spend another night drowning himself in alcohol at home, alone, or whether he should take a chance on you and celebrate the holiday he hated the most with a bunch of strangers.

“Ahh, what the hell,” he mumbled before pocketing his phone and coming to his decision.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It was half past seven in the evening when you reached your parents’ house. Most of the guests had arrived by then and the celebrations were underway. The hallway was bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights and a large fir tree stood by the corner, decked out in festive garlands and ornaments as presents were tucked beneath its coniferous branches. The delicious smell of stuffed turkey, rib roast, baked ham, mince pies, and eggnog wafted through the air. Your family had prepared a feast and you were surrounded by your close ones. All was in its rightful place, but there was just one thing missing—Leon.

“So… I’m looking forward to seeing this plus one you’ve been talking about,” your mom nudged you as she sauntered over with a plate full of food.

Sensing your unease, your older sister came to the rescue, which you were ever thankful for. “Mom, stop, give it a break already.”

“I’m just curious! It’d be nice to meet this mystery person, hmm?”

You shifted between your feet uncomfortably. At this rate, you were pretty sure that Leon had bailed on tonight’s plans, so you might as well come clean about it. “Well, um, he—”

Before you could finish your sentence, the doorbell rang. Wait, could that be him? Your heart leaped in its cage.

“I’ll get it!” your younger brother yelled as he ran toward the door and you chased after him.

Yanking it open, both of you were greeted by the devil himself. The corners of his eyes crinkled, deep blue set against his pale skin, flushed from the cold.

“Sorry for being late,” he said, extending his arms toward you as you froze up in astonishment. Your younger brother stealthily gave you a push forward and you stumbled—quite literally—into Leon’s awaiting arms.

“Oof, hey!” he laughed. “Nice to see you too.”

“Sorry,” you stammered while you held onto him to find your footing. 

Once you had regained your balance, the scratchy material of his outfit caused you to have a proper look. From the porch lights, you could just about make out the knitted design. There was a figure of who you assumed was meant to be Jesus, sitting on a reindeer and riding it into an explosion of stars with an assortment of ill-matching Christmas trees in the background.

Noticing the perturbed expression on your face, Leon asked with a tinge of anxiety in his voice, “Ugly sweater, right?”

That was when you started giggling, realizing that his sweater definitely outclassed yours in whatever imaginary competition you had in mind. “God, that’s terrible! Okay, you win.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the prize?” he smirked.

At this point, your parents had come to the door to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing Leon standing outside in the cold, they ushered him in quickly, asking him to make himself at home. 

As Leon settled in and went through the customary round of introductions, the topic that you had been dreading came up—naturally, from your nosey mom of course. “How well do you two know each other?” she pried. “Are you two…”

Leon glanced between you and your mom as she trailed off purposefully, and while you nearly choked on your saliva, he didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, he responded with a disarming smile, “Yes, we are.”

Your mom emitted a contented hum, turning to your dad with a knowing look, and your eyes shot up to meet his in panic. However, he placed a hand on your shoulder comfortingly, mouthing the words, “Relax, I got this,” as he gave you a brazen wink. 

You had no idea what sort of game he was playing or where he was going with this, but he had a way about him that made you want to place your trust in him. And so, you eased up, allowing him to take the lead in the conversation while showing him to the dining table. Your dad served him a plate and Leon poured out the wine he had brought as a gesture of appreciation. 

Dinner went on without a hitch, filled with warm-hearted chatter and a never ending supply of food and beverages, in which all of you ate and drank until you were stuffed. Although your family could use a lesson in minding their own business, they were relatively easy-going and laid-back, so much so that Leon appeared to be enjoying the company. He seemed brighter and lighter than when you usually saw him in the office, away from all the scrutiny and judgment that could be found there. It was as if he was getting energized by the banter and a social environment which expected nothing from him, but to just be himself.

Your parents took to him and so did your siblings, being none the wiser to the fact that you and Leon were still practically strangers. Well, strangers was too harsh a word. It was more like: not quite friends yet not quite strangers. Occasionally, you would sneak a peek at each other from across the room, sharing shy smiles and furtive glances.

You were pleasantly surprised by how smooth Leon could be when he wanted to, considering that your earlier exchanges with the man had been stilted at best. It was never like how it was in the movies, where couples would hit it off instantly at ditzy meet cutes. Hold on a minute—couple? You mentally berated yourself for thinking about you and Leon on romantic terms. It must be the holiday season making people feel lonely, you figured. How many times had you received drunken, emotionally-wrought texts from exes, only to have them fumble with excuses for sending it out the next day? Anyway, this was nothing. What you had with Leon would only last for tonight, like a trick of the light. You went back to rearranging the gifts under the tree for the umpteenth time.

It was getting late. As your family had a tradition of only opening their presents on Christmas Day itself, they wanted to head to bed soon.

“Leon, you’re very welcome to take the bed in the guest room if you like,” your father offered.

“It’s a long drive back after all,” your mother hinted with a wily grin on her face. Your sister sighed and rolled her eyes while your brother suppressed an obvious laugh.

You saw a slight blush creep up Leon’s neck, but he relented. “Well, if you insist. I can’t thank you enough for all your hospitality.”

Your parents waved off his comment as everyone helped to clear up the dishes. When the remaining chores were finished, you brought Leon to his room, giving him a fresh set of towels, toiletries, and spare clothes from your dad as the rest went to sleep.

“You didn’t have to lie about us, you know?” you mentioned, touching his arm gently. “I mean, I appreciate it.”

“I know.” He brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, causing it to tingle. “It’ll be our little secret.”

You scoffed at his quip, shaking your head in mock disbelief before pulling away. “Well, I’ll get ready for bed. Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“Mm-hmm.”

After you cleaned up and changed into your pajamas, you went outside to sit on the old wooden swing by the porch. It was draped with fluffy cushions and a thick fleece blanket, which you snuggled under to get comfy. This was your favorite time of the night, when the world was quiet and through the darkness you could spot faint glimmers of light from the street. The air was frosty and you could see your breath condense into puffs of mist.

“Is this a party of one?”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even heard the front door creak open. Leon was standing beside the swing, motioning to the empty spot beside you. “Mind if I join you?”

Scooting over to give him some room, you jested, “Sure, as long as you don’t steal the whole blanket.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked as he sat down, wrapping his body with the covers.

You trembled as the chilled air hit your skin and he raised an eyebrow. “Cold?”

“No—” But your body betrayed you as you shivered uncontrollably again.

“C’mere,” he muttered, shifting his position as he opened his arms so that you could scuttle in between them.

You gulped nervously but gave in, moving closer as you leaned your head against his chest, catching a whiff of his musky cologne. In response, he snaked an arm around your shoulders in the form of a semi-embrace. His chin rested on the top of your head, and the warmth radiated from his body to yours and back again as you heard his heart beating—maybe a little faster? If someone had told you that you would end the night cuddling with Agent Leon Scott Kennedy, you would have said they were out of their mind, but yet here you were.

“Your Yule log was delicious,” his voice cut through the tense silence and you could hear it reverberating through his chest.

“I knew it’d sway you over to the dark side,” you teased. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t miss out on that?”

His fingers stroked through your hair absentmindedly. “I’m glad I didn’t miss out on all of this.”

You peered up at him inquisitively as he continued, “I haven’t… done something like this in a long time. I kinda forgot how nice it can be…”

Reaching out, you took his hand in yours and squeezed it. “I’m happy that you’re here.”

“I’m happy that you’re here too.”

It came out as a barely-heard whisper, but before he could speak any further, a crystallized snowflake fell onto your cheek. You thought it might have been a fluke at first, but soon, more and more feathery flakes landed on your clothes and hair, littering the floorboards of the front porch in a myriad of geometric shapes.

“It’s snowing,” you gasped.

“First snow of the year.” Leon looked up, similarly in awe at the blinding yet beautiful scenery before him.

You stuck out your tongue to taste the fluffy, sticky ice which fizzled and melted on it. Then, a sudden thought struck you. 

“What time is it?” you asked.

Leon untangled his arm from underneath the layers, squinting at the clock face of his leather-strapped wrist watch. “Just past midnight—”

You jolted up, taking him by surprise. “It’s Christmas?”

Grinning at you, his hands encircled your wrists, the palms of which still laid on his chest. “Uh-huh, so, about my prize…” he tapered off suggestively.

“We’ll unwrap the gifts later with the rest of my family,” you scolded playfully.

“No, I mean, the prize I get for wearing the ugliest sweater in town,” he snickered.

Your heart was in your mouth as your mind raced, simultaneously attempting to come to terms with what he was implying and second-guessing yourself. 

“What kind of prize…” you began, but didn’t manage to complete the sentence as you found yourself drifting toward him on your own accord, closing the gap as you licked your lips and watched with bated breath.

His gaze dropped to your lips as he caressed your cheek with his knuckles. Cupping your face in his hands, he tilted his head, nudging his nose against yours as he planted a tender kiss along your parted lips. You stayed like this for a while, tentatively exploring, soft kisses and skin upon skin, tasting each other until the both of you were satisfied.

When you finally broke away, there was a fond look in his eyes, as though he were seeing you for you, just like you did with him. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, voice half-dazed and husky.

“Merry Christmas, Leon,” you smiled.

Dividers by @saradika

[fckeddiemunson]

Wrestle | Elwood Dalton

Summary: Dalton teaches you how to wrestle on the beach

Note: This isn't exactly how I pictured it in my head and I couldn't get it right - it also took me ages to write because I wasnt happy with it and I still dont think its my best work but please enjoy😊

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, creampie, public sex, unprotected sex, MAYBE ooc Dalton a little

From the day Elwood Dalton showed up in Glass Key, you were intrigued. You had never heard that name before but from the minute he stepped foot in the Road House, rumours begun simmering. Being a bartender meant you were near Dalton at most times when it was a quieter night. You watched him mostly from afar at first. Serving him coffee with only a shy smile shared between the two of you. Billy had told you that he used to be a fighter, one of the best. A local patron had told you he was disgraced from the sport for killing a guy. Another time you heard he was unhinged, really got some few screws loose, especially if you got on his bad side. Sure, he stopped all the bar fights from breaking out, but you couldn’t believe that he was insane.

He had started teaching Billy and the other guys how to fight and wrestle, so when he was gone, the Road House would be alright against fights that needed to be broken up. You had been eagerly watching them from a distance each morning before open, pretending to read but you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You had asked Billy if he would teach you how to wrestle once Dalton was gone, you were too nervous to ask him yourself. You barely got the chance to talk to him, most nights were busy in the bar, and he was rather occupied with stopping fights. Your stolen glances were no stranger to him, he had often caught you staring, and it made you even more nervous to ask him to teach you to wrestle.

You had your back turned, leaning up against a pole as you dried cutlery. It was a quiet night and you were filling your shift with menial tasks. Dalton had crept up behind you, his breath fanning your ear, “Slow night, huh?”. You jumped, back colliding with his front and dropping the fork you were drying.

“You gave me a fright.” You mumbled, bending down to grab the fork and turning to look at him. He had a silly little smirk on his face, stepping back a little seeing you tense with him so close.

“Sorry honey, just trying to amuse myself. Theres not much else going on right now.”

“There must be more interesting things than scaring me.” You huffed but it turned into a grin when you met his eyes.

“Not really, you’re kind of the only interesting one here.” You blushed; despite knowing he didn’t mean it.

“Nah, you broke someone’s arm your first day. It’s hard to top that.” He shrugged and laughed; his big toothy grin was intoxicating to look at.

“So, you want to learn how to wrestle?” Dalton asked you, now leaning against the same pole as you, his crossed arms brushing against yours.

“Oh. Yeah, I do for self-defense if I needed it. I was just going to get Billy to teach me.” You rubbed your arms sheepishly.

“Yeah, he told me. He thinks it’d be better if I taught you.” You were going to kill Billy. There was no way you’d be able to cope having Dalton teach you how to wrestle.

“Umm, I mean if you’re sure you have the time.” Drawing out the ‘umm’ you felt his eyes piercing into you.

“Of course. Meet me outside my boat tomorrow at dawn. And don’t wear any loose clothing, don’t want anything your opponent can pull on.” You nodded as he walked away, secretly excited.

*

The next morning you stood outside his boat, waiting. It was quiet, only the soft sound of the waves sloshing filling the peace. Listening to Daltons advice, you had turned up in a sports bra and tiny little shorts. The door of the boat slammed open, Dalton stood there shirtless, also only in little shorts. Trying to tear your eyes away from his bare chest proved difficult and you could feel his eyes watching yours. A blush formed on your cheeks as you waved a hello to him.

“Alright so I’m going to basically tackle you first and show you where to put your hands and then you’re going to attempt to wrestle me down.” You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat with him coming so close.

“The easiest way to get somebody to the ground is a leg takedown. You basically grab onto one leg and throw yourself to the ground.” Dalton knelt down beside you, patting your thigh.

“I’ll do it real slow ok, honey?” You breathed out a sigh as Dalton stood up and took a step back.

“Ok so you’re going to dive at me, latch onto my leg, like this.” Daltons strong arms wrapped around your thigh and lurched forward. Your head landed on the sand, a dull throb travelled down your stomach as Dalton landed, half his body on yours, his arms still draped over your thigh.

“Oh well you made that look easy. Billy said you go super hard on him.” You pushed yourself up, readying yourself for another go.

“I can’t go too hard on you sweetheart, you’d break.” Dalton hovered over you, his voice sounding amused.

“Are you and Billy seeing each other?” You perked up at the question, a curious look in his eye.

“No, I’m not, just mates.” You narrowed your eyes up at him, but he shrugged, stepping back to show you another move.

“Okay, I want you to try that move on me.” He chuckled, seeing the look of hesitancy across your face. You readied yourself, crouching down and putting your hands out in front of you. Giving yourself a little runup you grabbed his leg and tackled him to the ground. You landed with a soft ‘oof’, arms like an iron grip on his thigh. He lifted his leg up, your grip faltered, you landed on his abs, leg thrown over the thigh you were gripping.

A playful smirk delighted his lips as you placed your hands on his chest, pushing yourself up, sitting on his thigh. You smiled, excited to have put him on the ground.

“See, you can go rougher with me.” You cheekily retorted to him, sticking out your tongue. Dalton’s eyes rolled, suddenly thrusting his hips upward, in one maneuver, throwing you off and pinning you to the ground, your hands above your head and his leg snug between yours, keeping you in place.

You gasped and struggled in his grasp, his knee nudging the softest parts of your thighs.

“See you’re fucked if someone gets you in this position. Go on, get out of it.” Dalton was speaking but your head was empty. You couldn’t focus on anything besides the feeling of him against your body. You were scared to move in case you accidentally grinded yourself on his leg. Dalton searched your eyes, trying to see if you heard him or not. He noticed the way your breath tightened and the way your stomach muscles clenched with him so close.

“Unless this is something you like? Being pinned down like this.” Dalton’s knee inched further up and you dug your heels in the sand, an overwhelming sense of embarrassment settling upon you. You thrusted back, throwing him off balance and kicking your leg over, kneeing him in the side. You lurched up, now pinning him to the ground, straddling him and holding one wrist each in your hands. His face inches from yours, he was letting you pin him there.

“Maybe you’re the one who likes to be pinned down?” Your voice was breathy and heavy, feeling Daltons eyes fixed on your chest you coughed, his eyes flung up to meet yours. For once it was him being caught staring and not you. In a rush of confidence, or madness, you let his wrist go and let your fingers run through his hair. A moment passed; you could feel your heartbeat in your chest thumping loudly. Daltons free hand slid up yours and pulled you down by your neck, your noses now bumping each other. Daltons other hand broke free of your grasp, cupping your face. His lips connected with yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you closer to him. He pulled a strangled sound from you feeling his hips roll against yours. A delicious feeling began to spread as you kissed him again, he nibbled at your bottom lip, his hands settling on your hips, kneading and squeezing. The lust in your eyes was palpable when you looked at him again, he couldn’t stop smirking at you. You grasped his hair, his teeth grazing at your neck, making his way down your sternum, to your stomach, nipping and sucking as he went. His fingers hooked delicately under your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them down the beach. The cool sand hit your butt, and you gasped, rolling your hips upwards. Dalton placed a kiss on your hip bone, sending chills through your body. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you closer and nuzzled his face in your thighs.

“Are you sure you want to do this right here in the open?” your face flushed at the prospect; his eyes met yours from between your thighs.

“We’re secluded here, nobody can see us.” You nodded and moaned, feeling him move your underwear to the side and pressing a hot kiss to your exposed cunt. His grip tightened on your thighs, licking a wet stripe into your pussy. You fisted the sand, a string of breathy moans leaving your mouth as he continued licking and sucking, sending shockwaves through you. You could feel yourself practically dripping onto the sand for him. Daltons eyes met yours as his middle and ring finger slipping inside you, immediately tugging upwards. Dalton groaned against you once he felt how wet you were for him, his hard crotch, grinding against the sand.

“You’re so wet.” Dalton whispered, his fingers picking up the pace, your heels dug in the ground, trying to bring yourself back to earth, you felt like you might float away.

“I need you, please.” You rolled your hips again, shuddering underneath the pleasure he was giving you. Dalton held you flush against him as he kissed back up your stomach, his hand brushed over your hardened nipple in your sports bra and pinched. You keened against him, nudging him up towards your mouth with your knees. He kissed you eagerly, right hand still kneading your boob and the other gripping firmly on your thigh, spreading you for him.

“You know I wanted to take you out to dinner, or lunch – anything. Thought you’d say no though, you’ve been a quiet little mouse. But now look at you, all spread out waiting for my cock.” Dalton slid your underwear to the side, leaving your pussy exposed as he pulled down his shorts. His fat cock slapped against your clit and you mewled at the feeling.

“I would have said yes if you asked me.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks warm, barely looking into his eyes. Dalton ran the tip of his dick over your wet pussy and chuckled.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re mine now.” He grinned but it fell away as he pushed his cock into you. You breathed heavily when he bottomed out, the pinch and stretch overwhelming.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll go real slow.” He smirked, mimicking his line from earlier. Dalton pulled out slightly and pushed back in agonizingly slowly. You let out a low quiet moan, adjusting to the feeling. Dalton hugged your thighs and lifted your legs up flush with his chest. His slow thrusts deepened at the new angle, his cock perfectly hitting that soft spot inside of you. All you could do was close your eyes and roll with his deep rhythm. He wrapped his arms around both your legs, his pace quickening. Your little moans turned loud breathless as his hips pounded into you. He wrapped his hands around your legs, completely locking you to his chest and raising your ass off the sand in the process. You all but dangled there as he hit the same deep spot in you over and over again. A warm flame was forming in your stomach, an explosion threatening to burst at any moment. Daltons pace did not relent and you moaned, grabbing fistfults of sand again, needing something to grab onto.

“I can feel you getting closer, honey.” His molten voice filled your ears and you nodded, too flushed and fucked out to speak.  Dalton’s pace slowed, his hips now rolling deep and slow against yours as he released your legs and pushed them against your chest. His thumb lazily stroked your clit, his thrusts doing most of the work moving you back and forth over it. You came suddenly with a gasp, waves of pleasure rolling through you. You tried to smack Dalton’s hand away, but he kept stroking your clit, turning your moans to breathless pleas as he fucked you into overstimulation.

“Where can I finish?” Daltons groans were louder now, his pace rapid and erratic as he neared his end.

“Inside me.” You whined and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him to your chest. His moans muffled in your neck as he came, hips stilling in a final thrust, pushing himself all the way in. He pulled out, watching as his seed spilled out of you and grinned.

“Would you like to have breakfast with me?”

[daydreamingsirens]

It starts with a simple text.

You tryna fuck or nah?

Well shit he couldn't get more direct than that. You liked that about him, he didn't fuck around; he told you what he wanted and when.

And that's where you found yourself. Face down, ass up with his arms around her hips and his face buried in it.

You hiss as he slaps your ass and presses the flat of his tongue against you and drags it up slowly, laughing as he feels you turn into a quivering mess. Not to be outdone or laughed at, you throw your hips back and sway from side to side.

“Is that all you fuckin' got? You woke my ass up for this—ooh.” he closes his lips around slick flesh and slurps. You took that as your cue to stop talking, spread your thighs wider, and press your chest into the quilt. He moves back and surveys his work, watches rivulets of spit drip down into the covers before he straightens up and slides his dick through the mess.

“It wasn't like you was really sleep though. I mean unless you fall asleep with ya phone in hand, waitin' on my texts and shit. Obviously you wanted this dick.” he gives you a silly ass look and you roll your eyes.

“Keep lookin' like that and I'mma take my ass back to sleep, fool.”

“Nah,” he barely presses the tip inside, just enough for you to feel it and moves back before you can thrust back on it, “what you gon' do is take this dick right here. Now throw that ass back and quit fuckin' playin'.” He holds his dick steady as you throw your hips back and sheath him in one smooth movement before he grabs your hips and thrusts without a second thought.

“Ooh s-shit.” you moan and buries your face in your arms as he smacks your ass hard, the sound vibrating around the otherwise silent room.

“Yeah, throw that shit back.” he meets you thrust for thrust, his bruised hands splaying across your lower back as you move, slapping sounds filling the room. He hears your muffled whines and grabs your hair, pulling your head back up, “Now what was you sayin', I need you to repeat that.”

“I s-said—ooh—fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you fucked up whoever you fought earlier.” he tugs your hair a little harder as he pistons his hips faster, feeling you clench and loosen whenever he'd dig his nails into your hip. He strokes over your spot and you holler.

“Yes! Right there, fuck, right there!” sweat drips down your face and you doesn't give a single fuck that you're sweating your hair out or that you might wake someone up as you grip the quilt and cant your hips back and feel one palm connect with the thick flesh of your ass and the short fingernails on the other hand dig even further into the skin on your hip.

“What's my name?” he says as he tugs your head back up, wrapping the soft strands of hair around his hand.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, Fontaine!” you sob as you feel yourself gush. He pulls almost completely out and slams back inside, making your knees wobble and the bed frame shake dangerously.

“Fuck yea. Scream that shit baby, I can't hear you!”

“Fontaine! I-I'm cum—ah!” you scream as you reach your peak. Fontaine slows his pace and fucks you through your orgasm before he cums inside of you and collapses on your back.

“Mm. You gon' wrap my hands up before I gotta shimmy down ya drain pipe in an hour or nah?” you roll over and throw him off and onto the floor with a grunt.

“Maybe, now let me lay here and think about my life for the next twenty minutes.”

[matrixbearer2024]

Grammar Stanley! [Modernity AU] (Stan & Ford)

Ford can't help correct Stanley's grammar, unbeknownst to him that his brother does it deliberately for fun to be annoying.

Stanford never meant to turn into that person — the grammar nazi one who corrects others’ mid-conversation, unable to let a misstep in syntax slide. It wasn’t as though he went around marking up strangers’ sentences with mental red ink, but when it came to Stanley, his twin brother, the compulsion was automatic. It wasn’t about superiority, he told himself. It was about clarity. Consistency. Respect for language itself.

Stanley, of course, couldn’t care less about any of that.

“Hey, Ford, where’s them notes I lent ya?”

Stanley called from the kitchen, his voice echoing against the tile. He punctuated the question by cracking open a can of soda, the fizz drowning out the tail end of his sentence.

Stanford, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a philosophy book balanced on his knee, didn’t even look up.

“ Those notes, Stanley. And they’re on the desk where you left them.” A beat of silence. Then: “Huh?”

Stan finally leaned out of the kitchen, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“You mean them notes are on the desk?”

Stanford sighed, his patience thinning as he flipped a page in his book with more force than intended.

“No, those notes are on the desk. Not them. ‘Them’ is used as an object, not a modifier.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, them rules don’t really matter, do they? You knew what I meant.” “Yes, but—”

Stanford’s explanation died on his tongue as Stanley leaned casually against the doorframe, soda in hand and the smuggest look imaginable plastered across his face. There it was again— that glint in his brother’s eye that Ford had come to recognize all too well. This wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was bait. And, as always, Ford had taken it.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

Stanford asked, narrowing his eyes.

Stan shrugged, taking a leisurely sip of his soda.

“Doin’ what?” “You know what. Mangling the English language just to get a rise out of me.”

Stanley gave an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand on his chest.

“ Me? Never. I’m just talkin’ how I talk, bro. Ain’t my fault if you’re too uptight to handle it.”

Stanford slammed his book shut.

“It’s not about being uptight, Stanley. It’s about… about decency! And respect for the structure of communication! You can’t just—” “Oh my God,” Stan interrupted, throwing his head back dramatically. “You hear yourself right now? You sound like one’a them boomer professors who lecture you for sneezin’ in class!” “I do not,” Stanford snapped, though the image made him falter. “Yeah, ya do,” Stan said, grinning. “Real serious, all ‘respect for communication’ this, ‘decency’ that. Who even talks like that?” “I do,” Stanford muttered, crossing his arms. “Exactly my point.”

Stanley strode into the living room, plopped down on the couch next to him, and propped his feet up on the coffee table with a loud thunk.

“You’re too easy, Sixer. It’s why I gotta mess with ya.”

Stanford groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“First of all, I’m not like our terror professors. Second of all, you don’t ‘gotta’ mess with me. You choose to. And it’s obnoxious.”

Stan shot him a cheeky grin, nudging him with his elbow.

“Nah, it’s hilarious. You should see your face when I say somethin’ like ‘ain’t.’ It’s like you’re watchin’ somebody drop a pizza upside down.” “That’s because it’s wrong, ” Stanford argued. “Language has rules for a reason, Stanley. Without them, everything falls apart.” “Oh no,” Stan deadpanned, widening his eyes mockingly. “Guess I better stop droppin’ my g’s before society collapses.”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re impossible.” “And you’re fun to annoy,” Stan said with a wink.  

It wasn’t just a habit. For Stanley, teasing his brother was practically a hobby. There was something endlessly entertaining about seeing his hyper-intelligent, hyper-serious twin flustered over the dumbest things. Ford could handle quantum physics, intricate biology and abstract philosophy, but throw a misplaced modifier his way, and he practically short-circuited. It was too good not to exploit.

The best part? Ford didn’t realize Stan was doing it on purpose. He thought it was just how Stan talked— and to be fair, it mostly was. But over the years, Stan had learned that leaning into his hometown accent and “creative” grammar choices drove Ford up the wall. So why not have a little fun with it?

Take their study sessions, for example.

“Yo, what’s that mean?”

Stan asked, pointing vaguely at a diagram in one of Ford’s textbooks.

Ford adjusted his glasses, peering at the page.

“It’s a model of subatomic particle interactions. That’s the Higgs boson, and this line represents—” “No, no,” Stan interrupted, waving a hand. “I meant the lil’ squiggly thing right there. What’s that mean?”

Ford blinked, a loading screen practically appeared on his face.

“Do you mean ‘what does that mean?’”

Stan gave him an innocent look.

“Ain’t that what I just said?” “No, you said— never mind.”

Ford sighed, realizing too late that he’d walked right into another trap.

Stan laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“You’re too easy, bro. Seriously.” “Or you’re too infuriating,” Ford muttered, flipping the page with a bit more force than necessary. “Yeah, yeah. You love me anyway.”

Ford didn’t dignify that with a response, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

The game escalated when other people were around. Stan had a knack for turning even the most mundane interactions into opportunities to poke at Ford’s persnickety nature.

“Stanley, would you mind grabbing me a bottle of water?”

Ford asked one afternoon as they studied at the library.

Stan glanced up from his phone, smirking.

“Oh, ya mean one’a them waters?” Ford froze. “A bottle of water,” he corrected through gritted teeth. “Yeah, yeah, them ones.”

Stan stood, strolling toward the vending machine with exaggerated nonchalance.

Fiddleford stifled a laugh from his seat next to his friend, and Ford sank lower in his seat, his cheeks burning.

“I don’t know why I put up with him,” he muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his words.  

The truth was, as much as Stanford complained, he wouldn’t trade Stanley’s antics for anything. Yes, it was maddening. Yes, it made him want to throw a thesaurus at his brother’s head at least once a week. But it was also… fun, in its own weird way. Stanley had a way of keeping him grounded, reminding him not to take life— or himself— too seriously.

That didn’t mean Ford was going to stop correcting him, though. He had standards, after all.

“Hey, Sixer,” Stan called one evening as he lounged on the couch. “You got them chips we bought yesterday?”

Ford didn’t look up from his book.

“Those chips, Stanley. And yes, they’re in the kitchen.”

Stan smirked, that knack for mischief once again returning.

“Right, right. Them chips. Thanks.”

Ford sighed but didn’t bother responding this time. Some battles, he decided, just weren’t worth fighting.

Featuring the twins from @gfthe-fearsome-foursome! This fic can be found on Ao3 as well here!

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 1 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Part two

This is my first time writing in a long ass time, so please, feel free to leave criticism.

word count: 3208

Summary: ex-cop!Reader's world is rocked thrice over when Daryl Dixon breaks up with them, they discover their pregnant and the world goes to shit in the span of a few months. A/N: this is gender neutral, no other pronouns but you/your used. Reader is obviously AFAB since they get pregnant. Also this first part is hella slow. Basically just getting background out of the way. No y/n used. (No smut, angst? IDFK)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being a cop whilst dating a criminal is… well, interesting, to say the least. And in both of your defenses, Daryl’s not, like, a murder or anything, just petty theft and trespassing and the occasional assault charge (they never go further than a slight fine, it’s a small town in Georgia, nobody gives two fucks). The problem is the eldest Dixon--Merle, the GD bane of your existence--the dumbass is constantly dragging Daryl into his shit (drugs, to be clear) and the youngest refuses to stop riding along with him. No matter how hard you try, therefore, it's a constant point in arguments; much like this one.

“You can tell him no!” you shout exasperatedly, for probably the millionth time tonight.

The ‘him’ in question is Merle Dixon, and the needed ‘no’ is Daryl refusing to ride along to one of his drug crusades. You weren’t even supposed to know about this run, Daryl kept that part of his life separate, per your request, keeping from having to turn either Dixon in, as your academy oath swore. However, the FBI had gotten wind of this trade--something about some cartel being included--and they started sniffing around in search of making a bust and you really didn’t need your boyfriend in federal prison for being associated with that.

“Nah, I can’t!” Daryl shouts right back, smacking his hand against the shitty, peeling folding table he calls a dining table.

This has been going on for probably almost an hour now; you push, he pulls and it just turns into a vicious circle. It had started as an earnest plea, asking him kindly not to go on this run and he just scoffed, continuing to scarf down the three-day-old leftovers you heated up. Now it’s this screaming match, one you’re both tired of. You go to open your mouth to ask why, but he raises a hand, cutting you off like he can read your mind (he can’t, you’ve just had this same argument so many times, you can predict the exact words to come out of each other’s mouth).

“He’s family, been there for me mah whole life,” he hasn’t, he’s been in and out of jail his whole life, but ok. “Least I can do ‘s be there for a simple run, done it a thousand times.”

You just groan in response, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pace, just trying to figure out what to say. How to change his mind. There’s a simple answer, you can’t; if there’s one thing you learnt almost immediately in this relationship is that once the Dixon mind is made up, it’s made up.

“What?” he barks, clearly annoyed by your annoyance.

“Nothing, D.” you mutter, shaking your head at this whole situation.

He huffs at that, knowing it’s not ‘nothing,’ but not wanting to know what it truly is, it’d just stoke the fire. Being the pouty baby he is, Daryl plops into a folding chair, the old hinges creaking at the intense weight add, crossing his arms over his chest. If you weren’t so mad, you’d find the scowl on his face and the way his muscles bulge attractive. A loaded silence falls over the two of you; the neighbor’s dog barks at something, presumably the car that can be heard driving across the old gravel road, a door slams, and cicadas chirp, having come back to enjoy the southern summer heat.

“You know what? No--” you set your hands on the table, putting a stop to your pacing as you look over at Daryl, something indiscernible clouding your face.

“What’re ya--” he starts, sitting up in the chair, cutting himself off as you butt in before he can finish.

“It’s not nothing, Dixon. This--” a quick gesture to the air between the two of you, “isn’t ‘nothing.’ You insisting on going on your idiot brother’s crusades isn’t ‘nothing.’ And I get that he’s family, I do, but you shouldn’t have to throw your life away to repay whatever debt you think you owe him for sticking around!”

You’re the one to get cut off this time, being silenced as he scoffs, abruptly standing up from his chair, anger evident on his face, maybe even a hint of betrayal if you looked real close.

“Fuck that’s supposed ta’ mean?” he asks, brows furrowing as he steps closer to you.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” you ask back, confused by his sudden reaction. You didn’t think you said anything wrong, just expressed a very correct opinion.

“Ya think ‘m throwing mah life away?--ain’t like I got much ahead of me, right? Not like you do, right?” he puts extra emphasis on that last right, rounding the table to stand in front of you.

Another constant topic brought up in arguments--him thinking he’s got no life ahead of him other than ending up dead or deadbeat like his parents and you, having been dealt a much better card of hands in life, having much more planned for you. No matter how much you tried to convince him he could do so much more than be a lackey for his shithead brother, he denies and you guys end up ignoring each other for days until one of you cracks.

“Well, newsflash, all of us ain’t got some shiny future waitin’ for us. Some of us got a life being a ‘lackey’ or whateva you said, fancy pants. And ‘m sorry if that ain’t good enough for ya.’” he states, invading your space inch by inch as he mocks your words.

“That’s not--that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant!” you stammer, panic slowly beginning to boil beneath the anger. If you thought he, or his family situation, or anything about him, wasn’t good enough for him you wouldn’t have put in the almost two years being his friend and another two and a half dating his stubborn ass. He continues his encroachment until you’re toe to toe,

“Sure as hell sounded like it’s whatcha meant,” he snarls, rubbing at the scruff he has yet to shave before straightening his posture, looking away for a moment. He sucks at his teeth, huffing before he looks straight at you, something you can’t make out clouding his face, “I think you should leave.”

Your face falls, tears slowly welling in your eyes as the words leave his mouth. He’s not kidding, nor was it some sort of freudian slip, he wants you out. It seems different this time, too; not some enraged get out that gets resolved with rough make up sex, or the more tearful one that usually ends with sobbing in each other's arms.

This, this is different. He doesn’t look angry, there’s no tears clawing their way through his stubborn ducts, he’s just… blank. No emotion, other than that stubborn Dixon resolution. This feels like a breakup.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” you huff, taking in a shaky breath as you turn on your heel to make the short trek to the front door. Shoes are haphazardly shoved on, the tongue stuck under your foot and laces shoved in, and your phone and keys shoved into a pocket as you head out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind you.

You don’t bother looking back, not wanting to risk the tears falling, until you hear the broken door of the Dixon trailer jimmied shut. A few tears slip from your eyes, angrily swiping at the wet streaks before continuing down the ‘driveway’ to your car.

Maybe if you stayed inside another minute you could’ve seen the tears glassing over Daryl’s eyes. Or maybe if you stayed outside another minute you would’ve heard the sound of another hole being punched into the wall of the Dixon trailer that continues out of sight as you drive away.

A few days pass by, no contact between you two, letting each other cool down; at least you thought. It’s about a week before you try talking to him the first time, having stopped by the car shop he works at to bring him lunch (a BLT from the greasy dinner, the one next to the even greasier motel near the edge of town). The only response you got was a sideways glare before he huffed and returned to fixing the neighbor’s old pick up, leaving you to put his sandwich on his toolbox and walk back to the station.

Another three days pass before you try again, approaching him in the rundown bar, but again, he ignores you, turning away and slipping into the crowd Merle had gathered. You don’t want to be desperate, but you try calling him a few times, no response to all four calls. As a week turns to two and two to three, your attempts become less and less often.

Around week four is when you got the letter; your application to attend the new agent training for the FBI has been approved. Holy-fucking-shit. You read the letter over and over until the words turn to blurry specks you can no longer decipher and that’s when the nausea kicks in, heaving into the bushes by your mailbox. You write it off as stress sickness, between your breakup and now this; I mean, it’s a big deal, going from beat cop in bumfuck Georgia to a possible FBI agent in Virginia.

You wait on the decision, debating if you want to uproot the life you’ve set up here, getting sick a few more times in the process. You try calling Daryl after a few days of thinking to no avail as he doesn’t answer; that helps you make your decision, handing in your badge the next day and spending the last few days of the week packing your stuff into a u-haul.

You stand on the last step of your shitty porch, staring at the even shittier two room house you’ve called home for the last five years, tears welling in your eyes as you think back to the memories. They’re not all good, not all bad either, and the longer you stand there the more you regret your decision, so you wipe away the few tears that slipped down your cheeks and turn away.

Away from the house, down the step and down the uneven pavement you call a driveway and to your car. You open the door of your baby (a lovely ‘69 Chevy Impala you got from an old lady a few years back), taking one more look back before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car: starting your new life.

Settling into your new apartment in Virginia wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be; honestly it was a breeze. The whole move was a breath of fresh air, it's nice being in a city where you don’t have to worry about everyone knowing everything about you. The only bad part is you still feel like crap--physically, not mentally, or not really--you’ll have to find a doctor soon anyway, the FBI academy requires your health records and you do not remember the last time you had your shots.

It’s about a week before the academy starts, so you decide it’s time to get to the hospital and get everything checked out. The doctor you booked with seems nice enough when you get there, going through a routine checkup: reflexes, blood pressure, weight, shot records and updates, all that lovely medical stuff.

“So, dear, I’m all done, unless you have any concerns of your own?” the doctor asks, tapping a manicured nail against her desktop as she looks up at you through thin framed glasses.

“Uh, yeah, actually, these past few weeks I’ve felt pretty nauseous. I don’t think it’s anything, just the stress from my move and all, but I wanted to make sure before I started work.” you tell her, a faint blush painting your cheeks under her gaze; normally you could never admit something like that, not without it getting out and people forming all sorts of conspiracies.

“Hm… Well, you’re healthy as a horse, so you’re probably not sick. It most likely is the stress.” she tells you, standing up, her heels tapping as she moves in front of you, red painted lips pursing in a thin line, “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“W-what? No. No, there’s absolutely no way I could be preg--” you stammer, trailing off as you think back to about two months ago. You and Daryl had been drunk off your asses, desperate, sloppy..

“Here, the bathrooms down the hall and to the left.” she hands you a pregnancy test with a chuckle, clearly oblivious to your inner panic. “And don’t worry, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

You have to hold back the urge to glare at her when you get up from the chair, annoying hospital paper crinkling beneath you. How can she just play this off like it’s nothing? It’s not nothing, you could be pregnant! This could fuck everything up, you can’t attend FBI academy whilst pregnant.

Squatting awkwardly over the toilet so you can piss on the stick while simultaneously managing not to miss the bowl, you hum to yourself as you actively avoid meeting your own gaze in the awkwardly placed full length mirror. You finish, quickly tossing the pee-stick into the sink and deal with the rest of your business before pacing the bathroom as you wait the longest three minutes of your life.

Your phone is in and out of your pocket, continually checking the time until three minutes have finally passed; thank god. You grab a paper towel, reach in the sink and grab the test, trying to find the courage to look at the results. Before you can psych yourself out you look, your heart sinking as you stare at the two pink lines glaring up at you.

You feel sick, you are sick, apparently; there’s a full ass human growing in you. As you gag over the toilet the doctor knocks on the door, slowly pushing it open. An apparent sympathetic expression reading her brows as she moves to gently rub your back. She sits with you until your stomach is emptied, the only thing falling into the toilet being tears.

“It’ll be ok, honey, it will. No matter what you decide.” she tells you as you both exit the bathroom, having spent a good ten minutes sitting on the floor dreading the future. You haven’t a clue what she means by ‘no matter what you decide’ until she passes you a pamphlet for an abortion clinic, offering you a pity smile as you leave the room.

The rest of the day is a blur, between swinging moods between rage and depression it’s hard to keep track of when what happened. You can’t go back to Georgia, you don’t want to go back to Georgia, but what’s going to happen? You know absolutely nobody and your plans have been utterly fucked. So, what? Get rid of the kid? Maybe? No. Maybe… No. Just get a job, raise a kid, yep, sure; this has to be the worst thing ever.

Surprisingly the next month of pregnancy isn’t horrible, you snagged a desk job at the local police department, and you’ve been setting roots down. The doctor--Lillian, you learn, the doctor from before--has been a big help, a friend, you’d consider her; she has a kid of her own with her wife and has been coaching you through your first trimester of growing an unnamed fetus growing within you.

You’re sitting pretty in your OB/GYN’s office, waiting for her to come in and do your four month ultrasound and tell you the gender, which you hope is some because if you have to listen to anymore of the incessant drone of the news anchor you might go insane.

Finally she walks in, all chipper smiles and pink gloves as she wheels the ultrasound machine in behind her. The gel is cold, making you hiss as it’s smeared across your stomach, the tech chuckling at the reaction.

“Do you have any names picked out yet?” she asks, getting the machine all kicked up and ready. She tuts playfully, as you shake your head no, waving a hand through the air. “Well, no pressure, I had a friend who didn’t pick a name until her kid was crowning.”

You cringe at that, finding it to be way too much information; if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that you’re getting a c-section. Natural birth seems scary as shit.

“Are you excited to find out the gender?” is the next question asked as she drags the transducer across your stomach, trying to pinpoint the child. You shake your head again, a ‘yes’ this time.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t have a preference, but I figured knowing the gender would take a little stress off, knowing what to buy and all.” you tell her, pulling a chuckle from both of you. She nods in agreement, cheering quietly as she finally finds the baby.

“In that case, I am happy to tell you that you are having a…” she moves the wand around a little more, squealing happily, seemingly having found the right angle, “girl, it’s a girl! Congrats!” she beams, reaching around to press the print button on the machine.

A sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at the black and white blob that is your baby; a baby girl apparently. Wow. You smile as she hands you the pictures, ‘Congratulations’ scrawled on the bottom of the film.

You can’t seem to find words as the doctor hands you a paper towel to wipe the excess gel off, her head wiggling as she celebrates on your behalf. She busies herself with cleaning everything up as you pull your pants pack on properly, ready to leave the room before something catches your attention.

There’s a red banner rolling at the bottom of the TV, words flashing ‘breaking news.’ You tap the doctor’s shoulder, asking her to turn the volume up on the TV. Her face falls at the sight, nodding as she clicks the volume up several notches.

“Breaking news, multiple reports of a virus outbreak have been recorded in the last several hours. There has been little comment from the government--Wait, one moment please,” is the only thing you manage to hear before a loud and annoying blare emits from the TV, “This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill,” and back to the news guy.

“This just in, cities are going on lockdown, soldiers invading hospitals and the government is advising everybody to stay in their homes. Do not try leaving your city, stay at home or indoors. There has been an outbreak. I repeat--” what the fuck? You listen to the spiel again, trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying.

A nurse rushes in, ushering you out of the room and out the front door, bidding you good luck. There’s already panic starting in the streets; people are flooding stores and cars jamming the streets.

You know how you said being pregnant was the worst thing ever? Scratch that.

[siancore]

SamBucky | E | 2.7k | AO3

Summary: Steve doesn't deserve Sam. He doesn't want Sam as much as Bucky does. Bucky knows this, and now he will get the chance to show Sam.

Content: Anal Sex; Rimming; Tender Railing; Not Steve Rogers Friendly; Language

A/N: Written because of this conversation. Dedicated to @jemgirl86

The hushed sounds can be herd through the walls of the bathroom. Bucky thinks it sounds like Steve and Sam are having a disagreement, but he cannot be sure. Their ‘relationship’ has been tumultuous from the get-go and he has often found himself present with Steve when Sam and the former are at odds.

Bucky combs his hair and muses that Sam deserves better. Better than his friend who will not commit. Better than not being at the center of the whole entire universe. Bucky has certainly had enough of watching Steve put Sam through this farce of a relationship; he can only assume Sam has had enough, too. With a sigh, Bucky checks himself over in the mirror and then exits the bathroom, making a beeline for the common living area he shares with Steve.

There, he finds Sam sitting on the small sofa and Steve standing near the door. The tension between them is palpable. Steve looks apologetic, Sam looks annoyed.

“Everything alright?” asks Bucky of Sam.

“It’s fine, Buck,” says Steve firmly.

“Ask your friend,” Sam replies at the same time.

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before saying, “I’m not doin’ this right now, Sam.”

“Nah, of course you’re not,” Sam replies. “You’re runnin’ off to get your dick wet somewhere else, uh?”

Steve narrows his eyes, grabs his jacket from the hanger, and says, “This thing between us ain’t that deep and you know it. You know that. Christ just grow up, Sam.”

He then walks out of the door and slams it behind him. Bucky looks from the door to Sam as Sam gets up from the sofa and rushes into the nearest bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

…..

“Sammy?” Bucky calls out as he raps gently on the door. “You okay?”

He hears some mumbling from the other side.

“Can you unlock the door, please?” he asks. “It’s my room, remember?”

There comes the sound of footfalls and then the click of the lock. Bucky turns the doorknob and pushes it open. He finds Sam standing there looking annoyed.

“You okay?” asks Bucky, reaching out to place a comforting hand to Sam’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” Sam replies, placing his hand over Bucky’s and giving it a squeeze. “I am so fucking done with Steve. He’s a dick.”

Bucky nods his head and then closes the door behind them.

“I know you’re not exclusive. I know he runs between you and Peggy. I know that’s not what you want.”

He sees the pang of hurt flash in Sam’s eyes before Sam drops his head.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

Sam looks up through his long, pretty lashes. There’s the hint of a question forming there. Bucky keeps talking.

“He doesn’t want you like I do.”

“Wh- what?”

Bucky lets out a little amused laugh and says, “Come on, Sammy. You gotta know how much I want you.”

There is a change in the air as it is suddenly filled by tension. Of all of the words Bucky has wanted to say to Sam; every confession that ends up stuck in his throat. Of all of the deep feelings swirling around inside of him. All of the late nights spent awake because he cannot shake Sam from his mind. The aching in his chest because he cannot remove Sam from his heart. There is a change in the air and they both feel it.

“Well,” asks Sam nervously, his pupils dilated. “What were you waiting for?”

“For you to give me a chance,” Bucky replies.

“A chance for what?”

“To show you how much,” he says while reaching his hand up and cupping Sam’s face.

He can feel the slight tremble as he holds Sam’s jaw. Sees how Sam’s lashes flutter against his cheeks as his eyes almost close. Can feel the heat of Sam’s breath as he ghosts his thumb over Sam’s parted lips. Feels his own heart hammering in his chest in anticipation.

“Show me,” Sam whispers softly against the pad of his thumb and Bucky almost doesn’t hear him.

“What’d you say, Baby?” he asks.

“Show me,” Sam repeats. “Show how much you want me.”

Bucky smiles, then. That is all it takes to cement in Bucky’s mind that this is going to happen. He is going to have Sam; to show him what real want feels life. He moves closer, keeping his steely gaze fixed on Sam’s.

Bucky knows what he must look like to Sam, the moment Sam’s eyes widen as he crowds his space and backs him against the wall. He must look feral with want as a look of abandon and pure lust covers his handsome face.

Sam bites his lip and Bucky’s eyes track the movement. He rubs his thumb over the spot, causing Sam to release his lip from between his teeth, just before Bucky leans in and takes Sam’s willing mouth in a kiss.

Bucky’s gluttony for Sam leads him to swipe his tongue along his lips to deepen the kiss. Sam takes it in stride, matching Bucky’s fervor as he sucks on Bucky’s eager tongue and melts into the kiss. Bucky holds Sam in place. They spend some time exploring each other’s lips before pulling apart, breathless.

Bucky cups Sam’s face and stares into his eyes before saying, “I knew you’d taste sweet.”

Sam giggles – fucking giggles – as he dips his head slightly and looks up through his lashes.

“I’m not always sweet,” says Sam as he bites his lip once more.

Bucky smiles at him and says, “I know.”

Then, he brings his lips to Sam’s jaw, pressing kisses right up to his ear, before trailing them down to his neck. Bucky’s hand slides down to the curve of his neck, his thumb resting over Sam’s pulse point, as he bites and laps at the skin there. Sam lets out a needy moan that goes straight to Bucky’s dick.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Sammy. You know that, right?” asks Bucky, scorching against Sam’s skin.

Sam’s hand comes down to cup Bucky through his sweatpants before he says, “I know you’re hot for it.”

Bucky covers Sam’s hand with his own, guiding him down the length of his hardening cock as both of their breaths hitch.

“Let me show you,” says Bucky.

Sam swallows hard and nods his head before saying, “Yeah. Yes, please.”

Their lips come crashing together in a desperate, heated kiss, as Bucky’s hands move to Sam’s ass. He lifts Sam and wraps his legs about his waist, not breaking the kiss. Sam clings to him as he carries him toward the bed and lays him down. Bucky covers Sam’s form with his own as he settles between Sam’s legs.

“You want this, right?”

“Yes, Buck. I want this. I want you.”

Bucky gives Sam’s lips one more kiss before he leans back onto his knees and then shuffles off the end of the bed. He pulls his shirt over his head, keeping his eyes locked onto Sam who mirrors him. Bucky steps out of his sweats before helping Sam to remove his pants. His eyes roam hungrily over Sam’s body and his smooth, dark skin. Sam is breathtaking. Bucky can’t look away.

“I knew it,” says Bucky as he climbs back onto the bed, placing his hand to Sam’s thigh.

“Knew what?” asks Sam, looking somewhat shyly at the other man.

Bucky leans down, presses a kiss to Sam’s thigh, and says, “I knew you’d be perfect all over.”

He kisses his way up to Sam’s abs, sucking and biting as he goes. Sam threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair and relishes in the feeling of his lips and teeth; the way his stubble drags across Sam’s skin. The way his hardness rests against Sam’s thigh. A shiver courses through Sam’s body as Bucky kisses his chest and then makes his way back up to capture his lips in another searing kiss.

“Can I fuck you?” Bucky whispers against Sam’s lips. “Wanna fuck you raw, Baby.”

Sam moans and tightens his grip on Bucky’s hair before saying, “Yes, shit yes. Do whatever you want.”

Bucky smiles against Sam’s lips before kissing him hungrily. Then, he pulls back, dragging Sam’s lip between his teeth. His hands find Sam’s hips as he flips him over onto his hands and knees. He runs his palm over Sam’s plump ass, tracing the delicious curves, admiring the stark difference of their complexions.

He cups Sam’s ass with both hands, an appreciative growl slipping from his lips as he spreads Sam’s cheeks and sees his pretty, puckered hole. He licks his thumb, presses it to Sam’s opening, and watches it pulse as if to draw Bucky in. Bucky salivates at the sight. He leans down and presses his tongue to Sam’s hole, eliciting a pleasured moan from the other man. He licks and sucks at Sam’s entrance, while reaching between his legs to take hold of his dick.

Sam curses out loud and grips the sheets as Bucky alternates between eating his ass and sucking his cock from behind. He wants to worship Sam; to revere him. He wants to show him exactly what he has been dreaming of doing for the longest time. How he has wanted to taste Sam. How he has wanted to take Sam apart.

He pulls off of Sam’s cock and gives him a few more strokes before rubbing his finger over Sam’s hole once more. He places wet kisses to Sam’s back as he reaches over him grab the lube from his nightstand. He kneels behind Sam and uncaps the lube, pouring a hefty amount onto his fingers. He takes a moment to warm up the substance before pressing the pad of his finger to Sam’s opening.

“Hmmm,” Sam moans as his hole pulses again, as if trying to pull Bucky in.

“Fuck,” says Bucky, as his cock is set harder still.

He grips hold of Sam’s hip and teases his entrance. Sam whimpers, almost pleadingly, as Bucky circles his hole. His cock leaks precum onto Bucky’s duvet as he rocks backward, trying to get Bucky to press into him.

“You want more?” asks Bucky, to which Sam moans in the affirmative.

Bucky give’s Sam’s ass a squeeze and says, “Alright. I got you, Baby.”

With that, he eases a finger inside of Sam’s tight heat. Sam is so hot. Takes his fingers so well. Bucky’s cock pulses out of jealousy. He adds another finger and begins to work Sam open. His moans urge Bucky on. The way he clenches around Bucky’s fingers spurs him forward. He curls them deftly and Sam calls out his name. Bucky almost comes then and there. Instead, he takes a deep breath and continues to finger fuck Sam’s pliant little hole.

Sam spreads his legs wider and rocks back, trying to take more of Bucky. Begging with his body and his needly little whines. It’s almost too much for the both of them. Sam, being taken care of, and Bucky, watching Sam take what he needs.

“Fuck, Baby, you’re pretty like this,” Bucky whispers, low with lust.

“More, please,” Sam manages as he fucks himself back onto Bucky’s lithe fingers. “Please, Buck.”

Bucky curls his fingers once more, eliciting another pleasured yelp from Sam, before removing them. Sam almost cries at the loss. Instead, he turns around to look at Bucky. What he sees nearly makes him pass out. The sheer want in his gaze. The darkness of his eyes. The need therein.

Bucky holds Sam’s gaze as he slicks his cock and then presses his large crown against Sam’s hole, open and willing. He places his knees behind Sam’s, pushes inside, and both of their mouths fall agape from the searing heat. Sam’s head drops to his forearms as Bucky’s eyes roll closes.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Bucky breathes as he bottoms out.

“Jesus, Buck,” Sam whimpers as he spreads his legs farther apart, pulling Bucky in deeper.

Bucky swears he sees stars as he withdraws to his hilt, and then snaps his hips forward. Both men let out deep, guttural moans as Bucky thrusts inside of Sam again and yet again. Chasing the moans that are almost drowned out by the forceful sound of damp skin smacking against damp skin. Bucky watches as his thick cock slips in and out of Sam’s pretty hole over and over for as long as he can.

He needs to see Sam’s face. He needs to see him. Bucky fucks into him a few more times with more fervor, before he pulls out, grips Sam’s hips, and rolls him to his back. Sam reaches for Bucky and pulls him down into a wet, desperate kiss. Their bodies mesh together, slick from sweat, chests heaving with each pant. Bucky slides against Sam, pressing Sam’s hardness deliciously against his firm abs. Sam moans into the kiss as he wraps his legs around Bucky’s hips. Bucky reaches between them, takes his dripping cock in his hand, and slides back inside of Sam. He kisses away their moans and begins to fuck Sam once more.

He is truly beautiful like this, Bucky finds the presence of mind to realize, as he rocks on top of Sam. As they hold one another and take their pleasure. In this moment where nothing else matters but what they are feeling.

Sam’s composure crumbles first as Bucky strikes at his spot just right. He clenches his thighs tighter, pulling Bucky deeper, and then he comes hard, with thick, white ribbons coating both of their chests and abs. Sam’s pulsing around Bucky’s cock pulls his orgasm from him. Bucky tenses a beat and then fills Sam with his seed. Both men collapse in a sweaty heap and fight to catch their breaths. Bucky kisses Sam’s damp brow as he slips his spent cock out of Sam.

After a moment, Bucky goes to get a warm, wet towel and returns to his bedroom. He finds Sam lying on his stomach with one leg bent at the knee. He’s stunning as he lies there coming down from his climax. Bucky stares a moment longer, his cock twitches at the sight of his come dribbling from out of Sam’s well-fucked hole.

“I got you,” says Bucky as he begins to clean Sam gently; Sam allows it, relishing in that feeling of being taken care of.

When Bucky is pleased with his efforts, he pats Sam’s ass and says, “Hop up a sec, let me change the covers. We made a mess.”

Sam looks at him and says, “Dude, I don’t think I can stand after that.”

Bucky lets out a little laugh, reaches out a hand, and helps Sam to his feet. He wraps his arms around Sam’s waist and stares into his eyes. They share a soft, chaste kiss before holding one another and swaying together.

…..

Later, the sheets are clean, and Sam and Bucky are spooning in the bed, sated and happy, with a movie playing on Bucky’s laptop. Bucky runs his hand up and down Sam’s arm and peppers soft little kisses to his neck.

“I meant what I said before,” says Bucky, causing Sam to pause the movie and roll over to face him.

“What?” Sam asks as he tucks Bucky’s hair behind his ear.

“Steve,” Bucky starts. “He isn’t good enough for you. You deserve better. You deserve better than to be held at arm’s length. Treated so fuckin’ casually. You deserve the world.”

Sam’s breath catches at the sincerity behind Bucky’s words. He reaches his hand down to cup Bucky’s chin, resting the pad of his thumb in the small dimple there.

“And you wanna be the one who gives it to me?” asks Sam, almost afraid of the answer.

“If you’ll let me,” Bucky whispers in reply. “Doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. I’m not makin’ assumptions because we had sex. If you need time, I’ll wait for you until you’re ready.”

“Really?” asks Sam.

“Yes, really,” Bucky supplies in earnest. “I care about you, so fucking much.”

“I care about you, too,” says Sam before leaning in to kiss Bucky’s lips. “Will you really wait until I’m ready?”

“Yes,” Bucky promises with a kiss to Sam’s brow; a promise of a future together; a promise of care and consideration. “You are so worth it, Sammy. You are so worth the wait.”

[whereslynx]

Hi sweetie, don‘t know if you‘re still writing for omb but would like to request something

Kissing your ex‘s homie

Oscar and you broke up and you are at a party and see him kiss someone else and you get really upset and storm out, only for Sad Eyes to follow and comfort you. You both kiss and Oscar sees it and get really pissed 🫢

a/n: MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS GUYS!!!

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The music at the Santos party was loud enough to rattle the walls, the bass thrumming in your chest as you leaned against the kitchen counter with a drink in your hand. You’d been trying to stay cool all night, but it was impossible to ignore the way Oscar—your ex—was across the room with some girl clinging to him like he was the only man in the world.

You clenched your jaw, staring into your drink. You told yourself you didn’t care. Told yourself you were done with him, that he could do whatever he wanted. But the knot in your stomach wasn’t listening.

It got worse when you glanced up and caught him kissing her.

Something in you snapped.

You slammed your drink down harder than you meant to, the glass rattling against the countertop. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the curious looks and murmurs as you stormed out the front door.

The night air hit you like a slap, cool and sharp compared to the heat inside. You stood on the front steps, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off the ache in your chest.

“Yo, where you goin’ like that?”

The voice cut through the quiet of the night, low and unmistakable. You turned, already knowing who it was before your eyes landed on him.

Sad Eyes leaned against the doorway, one shoulder propped casually against the frame, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, his dark eyes locked on you, studying you in a way that made your chest tighten.

“Don’t start,” you muttered, dragging your gaze away and staring out at the street.

You heard the soft scuff of his shoes as he stepped closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate, like he wasn’t about to let you off that easy. “I’m not starting anything,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost careful. “Just making sure you’re good.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, though the words came out too sharp, too defensive. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your fingers digging into your skin as you kept your eyes fixed on the asphalt.

Sad Eyes didn’t say anything for a beat, but you could feel his gaze boring into you, steady and unrelenting. “That why you left like someone lit a match under you?”

His tone wasn’t mocking, but the bluntness of it made your stomach twist. You turned to glare at him, but the look on his face threw you off. There was no judgment, no smirk, no teasing glint in his eye. Just calm, steady concern, the kind that made you feel exposed in a way you didn’t like.

You rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from snapping. But when you turned to face him, the words spilled out anyway. “Why do you care, huh? Shouldn’t you be inside, pretending like you don’t notice him making out with some random girl?”

Sad Eyes tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply. “And so did you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, it’s none of my business anymore.”

He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “Then why you out here lookin’ like it is?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and the sting behind your eyes only made it worse. You looked away, blinking rapidly, but Sad Eyes was already in front of you, his hand lightly touching your arm.

“You don’t gotta play tough with me,” he said, his voice softer now. “I know it hurts.”

The gentleness in his tone was your undoing. You looked up at him, the ache in your chest spilling over into your eyes. “I hate him,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Nah, you don’t,” Sad Eyes said quietly, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a shaky breath, and he pulled you into his arms without hesitation. His embrace was warm, steady, and for the first time all night, you felt like you could breathe again.

But when you pulled back slightly, your gaze caught his, and something in the air between you shifted.

His eyes, dark and unyielding, softened just enough to make your heart stutter. There was a vulnerability there you weren’t used to seeing, something unspoken but undeniably real.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. Your body moved on instinct, leaning closer until your lips brushed his.

It was tentative at first, the barest whisper of contact that sent a jolt through you. Sad Eyes froze for a split second, his breath hitching, but then his hands—strong, warm, and familiar—slid down to your waist.

His grip was firm but not demanding, and he kissed you back, slow and deliberate, like he was making sure you weren’t going to pull away. There was something careful about the way his lips moved against yours, like he was holding himself back, testing the boundaries.

The world around you faded, the muffled sounds of the party disappearing as the heat of his touch anchored you to the moment. For once, everything else—every doubt, every ache, every piece of anger—slipped away.

But then, sharp and cutting, a voice shattered the bubble.

“Yo, what the fuck is this?”

You broke apart instantly, your heart leaping into your throat as you spun around.

Oscar stood on the porch, his broad frame silhouetted against the light spilling from inside. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitch, and his eyes blazed with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine.

Sad Eyes shifted, stepping slightly in front of you, his movement subtle but protective. His stance was calm, his hands loose at his sides, but there was tension in the set of his shoulders.

“Ain’t what it looks like, homie,” he said evenly, though the edge in his voice gave him away.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting between you and Sad Eyes like a blade. “The hell it ain’t.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, sharp and accusing. His posture was rigid, his chest rising and falling with barely contained fury, and for a moment, it felt like the entire street had gone silent.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribcage, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it hard to think, let alone speak.

Sad Eyes didn’t flinch, his stance as steady as ever, but you noticed the slight clench of his jaw. His usual calm, effortless confidence had an edge now, like he was ready for whatever was coming but still hoping it wouldn’t go there.

The two of them locked eyes, the tension so thick it was suffocating. It wasn’t just anger—it was years of shared history, loyalty turned sour, and words that neither had dared to say out loud until now.

And you were in the middle of it.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something that might diffuse the situation, but nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if there was anything you could say.

And for once, a small, defiant part of you didn’t know if you even wanted to.

Let him stew, you thought bitterly, your gaze darting back to Oscar’s clenched fists. Let him feel the sting of what it’s like to be on the outside looking in.

Your silence only seemed to fuel the fire, the crackling tension growing thicker with every passing second.

Sad Eyes shifted slightly, just enough to draw your attention. His voice was calm, but his tone carried an undercurrent of finality. “Ain’t your business no more, Spooky.”

Oscar’s eyes snapped to him, his expression hardening even further. “Like hell it ain’t.”

And there it was—a crack in the calm facade that both of them were barely holding together. And you, standing between the storm, didn’t know whether to run—or stay and see how it all played out.

Oscar’s glare darkened, his voice sharp as he took a step closer, fists still clenched. “You got some nerve, fool. After everything, you gon’ do this?”

Sad Eyes stood his ground, his expression unreadable but undeniably steady. “Ain’t like I owe you an explanation,” he said, his tone flat but with a razor-sharp edge. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes cutting into Oscar with an unspoken warning. “You made your choices. Now you deal with ’em.”

Oscar’s laugh was low and bitter, his disbelief clear. “You think this is about me? About my choices? Nah, this is about you sneaking around like a snake.” His words lashed out, venom dripping from every syllable. “You couldn’t keep your hands off what’s mine.”

At that, your temper flared. You stepped forward, anger burning in your chest as you cut in. “What’s yours?” you repeated, your voice biting. “You don’t get to pull that card, Oscar. Not after I watched you with her all night.”

Oscar turned his glare on you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to come up with a response. His silence only fueled your frustration.

“You don’t own me,” you continued, your voice firm, your words cutting through the night. “We’re done. You don’t get to act like you still have your claim on me, especially when you were busy showing off for everyone inside.”

Sad Eyes crossed his arms, leaning casually against the porch railing, though his stance stayed slightly in front of you. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, but his voice remained calm as he added, “She said it herself, homie. Done.”

Oscar took another step forward, his frustration boiling over. “You think this is funny?” His glare shot back to Sad Eyes, his fists tightening. “You’ve got no respect, huh? No loyalty?”

Sad Eyes shrugged, his calm demeanor as unshakable as ever. “I got loyalty where it counts,” he said evenly. “You? You let her go. That’s on you.” His tone dropped just slightly, becoming more pointed. “You don’t like what she does now? That’s not my problem.”

The nonchalance in Sad Eyes’ voice was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Oscar’s face twisted in anger, his breathing heavy. “You’re really gonna act like you’re not crossing a line right now?”

Sad Eyes met Oscar’s glare head-on, his voice dropping lower but losing none of its calm. “The only line that got crossed is the one where you thought you still mattered.”

The tension reached a boiling point, the air crackling with the weight of unspoken history and barely restrained tempers.

Oscar’s voice came sharp, slicing through the night air. “You really gon’ pull this shit with her? You’re tripping.”

Sad Eyes leaned back slightly, one hand resting in his pocket as he shook his head with an exhale that was almost amused. “Nah, you got it twisted, homes. You’re the one tripping.”

Oscar stepped forward, his posture stiff, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Fuck are you tryna say?”

Sad Eyes straightened, his smirk fading into something harder, something final. His voice dropped, calm but laced with a challenge. “I’m saying I’m claiming her.”

Oscar froze, his breath hitching audibly as his face shifted from fury to disbelief. ��You what?”

Sad Eyes shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world, his stance loose and relaxed, but the fire in his eyes said otherwise. “You heard me,” he said, his words deliberate and unshaken. “She rides with me now.”

Oscar let out a harsh laugh, his hands flexing at his sides like he was ready to throw down. “You think this is some kind of game?”

Sad Eyes tilted his head, his lips quirking up in a lopsided grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ain’t no game, Spooky. You had your shot, and you blew it. Now, she’s with me. End of story.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving with barely restrained anger. “You think she’s just gonna go along with this shit? As if I ain’t lift my claim off of her 2 weeks ago?”

Your voice cut through the tension, sharp and bitter. “I do get a say,” you snapped, stepping forward so both of them had to look at you. “And I’m done with you, Oscar. Whatever this is, whatever you think you’re owed—it’s over. You don’t get to act like you care now just because you’re mad someone else does.”

Oscar’s eyes flicked to yours, the fury in them flickering with something else—hurt, maybe. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, bitter edge. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading.

You held your ground, meeting his gaze with a steady glare. “The only mistake I made was staying with you for as long as I did.”

The words landed like a slap, and for a moment, Oscar looked like he might say something else, might try to fight for some kind of control over the situation. But then he just shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned on his heel and stormed back inside.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you and Sad Eyes alone in the quiet of the night.

Sad Eyes let out a low whistle, running a hand over his jaw as he turned to you. “Damn, mami,” he said, his tone light but edged with something serious. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You shot him a look, the adrenaline still buzzing in your veins. “Don’t push your luck, Sad Eyes.”

He grinned, his usual smirk back in full force as he stepped closer, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Nah, I ain’t pushing anything,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “Just saying—it’s good to see you standing up for yourself. Makes me wanna stand with you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest ache in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when his grip on you tightened, anchoring you to the moment.

“Yeah,” he said with a quiet laugh, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush your skin. “But you like me anyway.”

And for once, you didn’t feel like denying it.