#since he always talking about her in that damn red dress

[am4zon]

@vspertilian

[peachylynnie]

you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo) contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing. a/n: UPDATED WITH CALEB AS OF 2/1/25 i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated. lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

caleb

What you heard? (What you heard?) But it's never what you think, trust

it's impossible to surprise caleb.

he always knows what you're up to.

whether you're just waking up from a heavenly two-hour nap or going out to get your hands on the latest edition of your favorite blind box series, he's always there.

last time you tried to cook yourself a meal (ever since you started dating, he hasn't let you lift a finger), he came home early and snatched the spatula away from you, insisting that you sit down and look pretty for him while he makes his signature braised wings.

you're not sure how he does it. maybe he has a secret camera or a tracker installed (ha). though, you don't have any complaints. you think it's fucking hot how he's never away from you.

even so, you've been wanting to surprise him for a while now. blame it on your desire to fluster him as much as he flusters you. you're going to surprise him AT LEAST once in your lifetime.

which explains why you're in an apron right now, with absolutely nothing underneath.

to be honest, you were hoping to surprise him with homemade apple pie since he's always cooking for you. but again, you want to fluster him. thus the apron, a long piece of denim fabric wrapped tightly around your waist and hung dangerously low at your chest. you can't deny how delectable you appeared when you looked in the mirror, admiring your exposed arms, legs, back, and neck—anything that would drive the esteemed colonel insane. you felt jittery just thinking about the look he would have on his face when he walked in through the door of your shared home.

however, your joy is short-lived when your phone rings while you slice up some apples in the kitchen.

"what's with the apron, pipsqueak?"

you put the knife down with a sigh. "do you have a camera installed in here or what?"

caleb chuckles into the phone. "wouldn't you like to know?"

"i would like to know so i can turn the damn thing off and actually surprise you for once, dipshit," you retort playfully as you adjust your phone between your ear and shoulder, picking up the knife to continue chopping. you suppose you should still make the pie since you already got the ingredients out.

"aw," he mocks, his voice dripping with arousal. "did my little pipsqueak dress up just for me?"

"yes," you snap, rolling your eyes. "but this little pipsqueak is about to change since you ruined her surprise."

your threat does little to faze caleb, as evidenced by his endearing laughter.

"don't be upset, pips," he teases into the phone. before you can scoff at his audacity to tell you not to be upset, your ears catch the hurried footsteps in the background of the call. it doesn't take long for you to hope your boyfriend is on his way home—on his way to you. sure enough, his next words cause heat to pool between your bare legs.

"keep the apron on. i'll be home soon."

after he hangs up, you put your phone down with a giggle, eager for what's to unfold once he arrives. however, you still can't help but wonder if he actually has a camera installed because how the fuck does he always know what you're up to? you frown as you turn your head left and right. you don't see any red flashing lights in places that could provide him an optimal view. nope. nothing in the corners of the ceilings and nothing in the walls either. before you can convince yourself your boyfriend is somehow omniscient, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

his dog tag. seems like he forgot to put it on after putting on his uniform. you pocket it, hoping to give it to him when he gets home.

but your mind is truly one of a kind. as caleb likes to put it, resourceful during the most critical moments.

because when he's balls deep inside of you, coaxing your second orgasm out of you, you get the bright idea to fish your shaky fingers into the pocket of your bunched-up apron and put. it. on.

caleb's eyes widen upon seeing his dog tag on you. there it was, the important item he forgot this morning, resting between the delicious valley of your breasts, bouncing up and down while jingling an enticing melody.

"fuck—pipsqueak, you—" he thrusts harshly, pistoning into your sopping heat. you throw your head back at the sensation, allowing him an even better view of his chain, mingling with the beads of sweat on your collarbone. shit, he's so turned on right now. not only were your swollen, sweet lips adorning his name, but so was your pretty little neck. it filled the young colonel with pride. and enough vigor to bring you to your third release, as evidenced by the endless slamming of his hips and the clenching of your thighs.

"good girl," he helps you through your high before letting go of your waist, hoping to give you a break. "i'll go get a towel. stay here."

but when your pilot of a lover goes to leave, you wrap your legs around him and pull him to you, causing him to collide with you. caleb hisses at the contact, sensitive more than ever.

"don't push it, pipsqueak," he warns as he plants both of his arms on the kitchen counter, caging you in. "you need to rest."

"i don't think so, colonel," you prop yourself on your elbows, meeting his eyes boldly. "i don't think so at all."

caleb swears he feels his mechanical arm short-circuit because what you do next is just fucking tantalizing.

you pinch his dog tag and bring it to your mouth.

his breathing quickens substantially when your teeth take the shiny piece of metal as their prisoner. it's not long before his dog tag is trapped between your seductive canines and your thighs are tightened around his waist.

with a shameless smile, you jut your chin towards the man, signaling to him to make his move.

caleb growls, seizing the chain with both hands and bringing you to his face.

"i warned you, pips."

extra (in honor of his official installment)

as you munch on some apple pie in caleb's embrace on the couch, you can't help but ask.

"how did you know about the apron but not the dog tag?"

your boyfriend sniffs before answering, a little bit of pie still in his mouth.

"i couldn't check the cameras on the way home."

"oh that makes sense."

"…"

"wait, what?!"

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright) Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his. 

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?” 

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far. 

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good. 

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble. 

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body. 

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck. 

oh. 

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck. 

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?" 

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding. 

"anything for my beloved bride." 

zayne

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

[dilf-docs]

My Baby's Fit Like A Daydream

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your relationship is finally out to the world. now, pedro and you will explore what it feels like to have your love out in the open.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, FLUFF, the empire of bad humor strikes again, hurt/comfort bc all roads lead back to angst, a brief mention of bodyshaming, this is lowkey pwp my bad, dirty talk, fingering, p. in v., bathroom sex ijbol, exhibition kink (they be fucking everywhere but in a bed), degradation kink (he calls her a slut twice), the one and only creampie (twice), so naturally: breeding kink, ALSO pls stop the husband!pedro reqs, i beg. a delulu girl can only take so much ���

word count: 10,991 words

side note: not one but two requests to be fullfilled! this is as a sequel to call it what you want. also, spam time: i happen to write in wattpad as well, and i have a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) but it's on spanish tho. if u speak the language and would like to tune in, read it here AND spam again but speaking of the ptwt dynamic, why don't we become moots? check my (new) stan twitter account here (i had one in 2022 that i had since 2016 but entered a crisis and deleted it lol)

part: prev | masterlist | next

The news had spread like wildfire.

As soon as you hit the red carpet, hand on hand, rings finally on display―shining under the spotlight, your phone had been blowing up nonstop: every show, podcast, tabloid, news outlet and social media had been talking about it. California had turn into an easter egg playground; everyone was eager to know it all.

(They had found the church where you married, the dress boutique, jewelry shop where Pedro bought the rings―the employees ratted him out, even sharing pictures of the moment, your husband posing with them without knowing of the future treason. They too had found the place where the reception took place, and even the name of the priest who had married you, but he refused to give the hungry press any details. God Bless)

In short, it had been a hell of a week. You figured dissapearing for a while was for the best, but with some interviews still left, that option had been discarded. Still, doesn't mean you couldn't retreat for a couple of days to the tranquility of your home while it was time to show up again. Well, as peaceful as it could get, since reporters were camping near your house and roaming around Hollywood Hills like vultures; the neighbour's nagging was just another layer of problems in your shit cake.

"I'm sorry, Louis. Walks will be postponed for a while" you talk to your cat, but the lazy bastard just stretches and lays down again. "Yeah, I can see you're affected. Don't cry"

"It's not the cat's fault" Pedro emerges from behind, "don't take it out on him"

He takes a sit next to you, two mugs in hand. He gives you the one with a chocolate steam, a souvenir he bought when you visited your home country last summer. You wonder if that's a trip you'll ever be able to make again.

"I'm not. Just- It's horrible that I can't even go outside my own house and walk the same roads I've walked in four years because the press is hidden with cameras in, I don't know, bushes!" you exclaim, quiet rage carried within your words. "It's unfair, really. All I want is to walk my damn cat without a flash up my ass"

Pedro nestles his face in your neck, nose carressing the skin. Giggles leave your lips, the sensation ticklish.

"It'll pass. It always does" he says, voice assuring, probably because he's used to the violation of privacy, but you're not. Getting bigger, is this the price to pay for making a name for yourself and claiming out loud who you love?

"I hope so" you murmur above the quietness of your home, a sound as eerie as fake, devoid of it's tranquil nature as a world of invasion awaits outside.

"Do you trust me?" Pedro speaks, voice unwavering. He holds your gaze, steady brown challening your shaky orbs.

"I do" you speak up, yet you wish you could believe it. You believe in him, there's no question to that, but do you believe in yourself? That the love you'd put out to the world would be treated with the same care and respect you have treated it in secret? For a fleating moment, you miss the secrecy.

"Then trust me this will be over sooner than expected" he presses a kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, feeling remanents of chocolate he licks away, as you mockingly yell ¡Qué sucio! but it's devoid of malice. "In time, this will become another anecdote we'll share with our kids, and laugh with our grandkids when we get older"

You smile, feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. Oh, doesn't he turn you into a pathetic sappy wife?

"Well" you sniffle, giggling to push back the tears away. "About the old part..."

He playfully kicks your side. "Uno ya no puede ser romántico, que le salen con estas cosas. Your generation could use some respect, you know?" (one can't simply be romantic anymore)

Pedro gets up, picking the mug from your hands as both rings brush together, the gold shinning under the morning Californian sun.

"And your generation could take a joke" you quip, lips curled up like you hadn't in weeks.

"Very funny, y/n. Thought you loved me" but then he's pressing a kiss to your temple like kissing you once isn't enough, promising to return after washing down the mugs.

"I do!" you shout to his dissapearing broad frame as he enters the kitchen, and he playfully makes a dissmissing move with his palm.

The laughing dies when your phone chimes next to you.

You shouldn't really, but the curiosity that draws you in is as intense as a magnet. The phone burns on its position, screaming for you to open it, despite being told by your husband that the best was choice was to ignore it until the buzz had died down, but you're afraid the turmoil isn't nowhere to be finished. Comments can be mean, he'd said, they can hurt you. Pedro said he'd learn with time to ignore it, but he was experienced. You weren't, so naturally, as your husband and protector, he wanted to shield you from the pain.

Although, both of your fandoms had been pretty supportive of your relationship, some user even claiming to suspect it, making threads full of easter eggs and connections that validated the theory which was now a reality. I've connected the dots, followed by pictures of you sharing wardrobe, slips on interviews, similar backgrounds in your posts across social media, and of course, the two Gladiator Ii interviews. Many resorted to making edits or screaming over your pictures in the premiere, demanding for more content you had yet caved in to share (there was a gigantic carpet of evidence sitting heavy in your cloud).

So, in a way, this support made it hard for you to truly dimension the hate Pedro warned you about: all you saw was fans being happy and showering you with love, making paparazzi to be the only problem as for now.

That's it.

You cave in, turning the phone on as you bite your lip, searching first your Instagram: a bunch of new followers, many with variations of ispunk on their usernames, as well as a swarm of comments on your recent posts. There's a small voice in your head telling you to turn away, but your thumb moves without thinking, clicking on pictures of the red carpet―a carrousel of you and then a picture of you both at the end, one fans had been gushing about the last couple of days, rings on display, practically up their noses. You were smiling, and Pedro was looking at you fondly, his other hand holding Lux but his gaze never leaving yours; he was too perfect to be real―yours.

You unconsciously smile at the captured moment, love obvious on your faces, so you open the comments, thinking it would be the same support or love radiating of the comment.

But boy, weren't you wrong?

It was all the same, support lost between waves of hate. Variations of bodyshaming, age shaming and even gold digger claims were on full display across the comment section. "She's ugly" "In it for the money, am I right?" "I thought Pedro had better taste, lol" "She got the role in Gladiator II because of nepotism. Or cocksucking" and then a cruel answer that read "Right, threesome with Ridley. Ew, what a whore!"

Worst of it all, some even had Pedro profile pictures, or usernames and accounts dedicated to him.

Your heart was beating like crazy, chest heavy and hollow, face red with emotions you couldn't quite place (embarrasment? fear? rage? sadness?) as you kept searching across Twitter*, doing a quick skim of the trendings that included you. The same hate speech pattern was all over the timeline, some betting for divorce in a couple of years (even months!), while others took their time dissecting your looks and relationship. As if they knew. Long gone were the edits and harmless threads: the hate wave was here to stay. Some where even being a bit racist, the irony of it all, being Pedro himself was latino and didn't shy away from it, rather proud as he didn't miss an opportunity to shot out his dear Chile. Or any social issue, as a matter of fact, very vocal on his political beliefs.

This was fucking ridiculous, and if the cameras were an issue, this swarm of negativity is what really took a toll on you, the flashes as you went grocery shopping now barely a scratch. No, this was worst. All you wanted to do was cuddle in a blanket while wearing one of Pedro's shirts and dissappear. Too much noise. Too much hate. You can feel it creeping up your body, tainting your soft curves, wrinkles, acne scars and face. It's like rough hands, tugging harsh, ripping your vocals because you can't scream; no words to express this pain.

You knew one day it would come, but never imagined the hurt and to what extent people were capable of. Cruelty. Dissecting your life and body like it was a show for them to be entertained: your marriage was a circus and your body a joke.

It hurt their condescending dismiss of your love, questioning as if the gap were only numbers and not a pillar of your relationship that made you and Pedro closer, despite the bridge in age. You were reduced to a middle-age crisis, and he to a filthy man pinning for a younger girl. Your body was turn apart, despite no real flaws existing. Humans are meant to be so, not perfect, but real, and that was the problem: you had turn into an object―a target for their dards to pierce through.

Your body shakes violently with cries, deafening your ears that you don't hear when Pedro walks in.

"Why are you crying?" he rushes to your side, panic on his voice. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

You barely manage to shake your head, and then his eyes scan all over your features, until they land on the phone on your hands. The worry turns to anger as he asks:

"You looked at them, didn't you?"

He isn't yelling, but it would be better if he did. This contained fury, fading into dissapointment, as if you were a naive child scolded by their parents makes you feels small and stupid, as if you knew no better.

"I'm sorry-" you manage to choke out among tears, "I know you told me-"

"I told you" he interrupts, words laced with wrath, "so this wouldn't happen. See what happens?"

"Why are you talking to me like it's my fault?" you yell, and Pedro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I didn't ask to receive all this! Do I deserve the death threats, shame and hate?"

He walks past you, and it's like a slap to your face. Was he going to behave like this? Didn't it matter how you felt, or was it something childish that could be brush to the side like nothing? Insecurities you hadn't even think of come crashing down on you, doubts creeping up and attacking you from all sides. It's horrible. You try to hold onto the good memories, praying you don't loose him. You can't. You just can't.

"Answer!" you demand, tears spilling like a broke dam.

"I was just closing the windows. Or do you want to fuel the talk, huh? Give the hungry hoard more to bite?" Pedro then stands to hold your gaze, and you hate that you can't place his emotions. Anxiety corrodes your brain: was this really the beginning of the end?

"Do I?" you dare to speak up, and even if its loud, it comes out drowned, the exhaustion from the emotional turmoil taking its toll on you. "Do I deserve it?"

"No, you don't, carajo!" Pedro bursts. "You don't deserve any of that, which is why I didn't want you looking at those things!"

He sighs, realizing the anger is misdirected.

"I'm sorry"

Your broken wails are the only thing to be heard. He hates himself for being a part of it, even if not the biggest.

"No, I'm sorry for being so stupid" you sob. "I-I just wanted for people to be as happy for us as I am with you"

"Come here" but he's the one cutting the space to embrace you.

His scent calms a part of you, body still rocking with violent shakes.

"You're not stupid. Nor ugly, or any of those things people are calling you. No, mi amor. You're beautiful, smart and talent. They fail to realize I'm the lucky one. So please, don't be hard on yourself, yeah? I can't bear to see it. Less if I know it's not true. You didn't ask for it; you don't deserve all that bullshit"

He presses a kiss to your temple, arms that hug you tighter holding you close close up to the point his heartbeat melts within your own.

I won't let you go. You won't fall as long as I got you.

"We'll get through this, yeah? Think of the future, and what's to come. It's hard, that I know, but let us enjoy the moment. Life is too precious to waste it away" he brushes stray tears with his thumb, softly and full of love that words aren't enough to express. "I'm here" the out loud, "and I'm not going anywhere. That's a promise"

Later that day, Pedro posts a carrousel of unseens, even one of your wedding (a video of your first dance), telling people to leave you alone. That he loves you, and that no malicious news, fans or comments will ever change that―suck it energy laced within his rageful statement.

Safe to say, in the next weeks, hate is barely a small voice whispering in the back of your neck, one that hushes down with each kiss and/or words uttered by your one and only devoted husband.

mandoshoney: y/n protection squad pull up, we ride at dawn starlightt180: unhing3dprincess WHERE ARE U??? PTWT IS IN SHAMBLES AND NEEDS U MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAA elysyannemimi: i feel like a kid scolded by their dad. pedro has achieved the ultimate daddy status bobgirlll: is no one going to talk about how rageful/protective pedro sounded in that story????? NEED MORE FERAL PEDRO RN GRRrrrr ps. photos so cute, wish that was me lol pyramiidsf: i hope y/n is okay, ppl can be so cruel sometimes but at least she's got pedro on her side <3 he's such a perfect man :,)

It had been days since your fight.

In an sweet attempt to cheer you up, Pedro had taken you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant you can't remember the name of. If they'll snap pictures of my wife without my permission, I might as well show you off. So, per his petition, you had wore a little black dress that hugged every curve of your body perfectly and pushed your tits to the top. Stunning, he had growled, and it had been hard to push him off as he devoured your mouth in your house's doorstep.

"Let's give them talk" you had agreed.

So now you sat at the restaurant, Pedro filling your cup of wine for the third time in a row, talking about all and nothing: about politics, the weather, your siblings, Louis the cat, upcoming gigs around your home you wanted to go to, how support had risen and the hate had dwindled, the numerous calls of job offers and interviews to keep on milking your relationship... life had never been more hectic.

"You know, maybe the dress was a bad idea" he takes a bite of his meat, tone nonchalant.

"Yeah?" you challenge, cheeks flushed with alcohol, "why's that? I thought I had to look good. What changed your mind?"

"Turns out" he looks at you, gaze piercing through your body, brown warm eyes darkening, "I figured something"

You know your husband. It's still fresh in your mind the first day you took a notice of it: jaw clenching, gaze fixated at nothing and white fists balled up on to the sides, arms swinging while fingers itched. A vein on his forehead would pop, and brows would melt together in a furrow. It happened when you got recognized by a fan, on your early days, and he had taken a picture of you, uploading it to social media. Dating Pedro had been going on for little to five months, and the way this guy hugged you from behind, hand resting above your ass, had made your then-boyfriend see red. His posture stiffened, demeanor changed and face adquired all the characteristics above. There was only one correct answer: Pedro was jealous, so fucking jealous.

So here he is now, jealous to the bone, alcohol increasing the rage.

"And that is?" you push his buttons, something you normally wouldn't do, but you're drunk and God, so sex-starved. His possesive side was always hot, yet now? It had a layer of allure it didn't have before, the idea of calming him down long lost.

"You know what it is" he answers, but you tilt your head to the side, acting confused. Pedro growls, clenching the glass a bit too tight; you fear it'll break.

"No, I don't" you serve more wine in your glass, savouring the liquid. Some spills into your mouth, and you lick it while not breaking eye contact. "Enlighten me"

"Turns out" the words come out strained, a whirlwind of emotions burning in the tip of his tongue, "that I wanted people to look at my wife, but I looked their looks and realized I don't like how they look at her"

He rambles the words out, speech pattern slurred and ideas clashing into one another, clearly drunk.

"I see" you draw out, demeanor calm, but your panties have started to get wet.

"No" he hits the table, making your eyes go wide and people turn to your table. You should be embarrased, but you're only aroused. "You don't see what I see. And I hate it, I fucking hate it" he seethes, words spit out over your unfinished meal.

"Dessert?" the waiter appears from seemingly nowhere, menu on hand.

Pedro doesn't even look when he answers, "Sure. Bring your best"

"The chef's suggestion is Soufflé, a classic dessert from his country"

"That'll do" Pedro looks at you, but his brain seems to be somewhere else. Like he's thinking. "How long will it take?"

The waiter ponders the answer, yet doesn't think any weird of it.

"About twenty to thirty minutes. Would that be alright? Or would you prefer to switch to one of our quick-fixes? They're as delicious as our fresh and-"

"No" your husband interrupts, eyes shinning with something akin to dangerous. "We'll take the soufflé. Just want my wife to eat the very best"

The waiter smiles. "Sure, will be back in a few. More wine?"

Pedro stops the action, removing the bottle's neck from pouring more red liquid in your glass.

"Won't be needed"

They excuse themselves, leaving both of you alone. The restaurant bubbles with chat and instrumental music from a band playing on a corner, but all you hear is his heavy breathing and your heart.

"I wanted more wine" you pout, not even knowing why you said it.

He smiles devilishly. "I'll give you something better than that"

How does it happen, you have no idea, but then Pedro gets up with a brash move, chair making a sound that draws attention. He smirks, his auburn reflecting on the candle glowing in the center with a light that's menacing.

"I'm going to the bathroom" an announcement that feels like a threat that runs through the newfound tension; it could be cut with even a butterknife.

You sit there in silence, too stunned to speak. Your phone chimes in what feels like an hour (it's been a few minutes, probably three). You open the notification, a single text from Pedro.

I'm waiting.

So this was his plan all along, huh? Maybe he's gotten bored of sex on a bed and room like normal couples, because ever since that time you sucked his dick in his trailer, Pedro has shown an appetite for public sex. Well, more like just shown but never done. Guess that changes as of tonight.

I'm coming.

Truth is, after the reveal and fight, you hadn't had sex since that time before the London premiere. Press tour hadn't finished, and the movie was still playing in theathers, but it feels much longer the time you had gone without having his dick rearranging your insides. That changes as of tonight.

You practically leap out of your sit, rushing to the restroom, which is too fancy for your liking. You're unsure how to proceed, and it should be because you realized how stupid and reckless this is, but it's more because you don't know which door Pedro is behind: men or women.

You knock softly on the ladies room first. "I'm here" you speak, voice small.

After a few seconds, a muffled voice from behind replies: "Me too"

You giggle as he pulls you inside, mouth devouring yours in a hot kiss.

"The lock!" you squeal, yet Pedro is busy buring his face between your breasts, pulling the dress down until he's nipping at the skin before licking the spot with his tongue. Your back is pressed against the tiled white wall, cold meeting your now heating skin.

"Mmm, missed this" he mumbles in a drunken state. "Needed my girls so bad"

His words elicit a moan out of you, a way to comunicate that your body too had been aching for this.

"Please, Pedro-" you whimper, trying to get rid of the pretty dress. He doesn't say it, but his movements command for power, big hands dragging your dress down until the black cloth falls to the floor in a sound filled with grace, it feels merciful.

"Black panties? But I thought I was a man with a plan" he groans, calloused digits ghosting over the wet patch in the middle. He smells your arousal off his fingers, and this is so nasty but you're so into it.

"Two can play" is all you answer, eager fingers unbuckling his belt as you unbutton the formal pants and pull them down to his knees, so with his underwear.

"Sure thing" he chuckles darkly. "Just look at you, baby. So loud, but you gotta be quiet. ¿Quieres que alguien entre y te vea así? Fucking slut, begging for my cock" (do you want someone to come in and see you like this?)

He's always been sweet-talking you through sex, and you know he doesn't mean it aside from being lewd words, but you also didn't know you could be aroused by it. Change is welcome, to say the least.

His hard dick is immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs, like he's got no time to loose, kissing you roughly like he hasn't eat and your mouth is his meal.

"Twenty minutes" he grumbles, groaning.

"Or thirty" you add, whining when his cock brushes dangerously close to your dripping folds.

"Can't believe you're this wet already" he chuckles, but it sounds more like a breathy sigh, lost in the inside of your mouth.

"I've been wet since before we left the house and you kissed me"

"And I kissed you" he adds. "No sé ni por qué putas te traje si sólo quería quedarme en casa y comerte" (i don't know why the fuck i took you out if all i wanted was to stay at home and eat you out)

You moan at his dirty mouth, clicking your tongue as a way to say so.

"You dirty old man-" it dies in your throat when he glides inside your folds with ease, a finger slipping in, then two, as he curls them. Your head rolls back, landing against the door with a hollow thud.

"Dirty? But you enjoy this, don't you?" his fingers buried up your hilt. Your eyelids flutter, whimpering drowned by your lips, bitten so deep you think you start to taste blood. "Bad news, mami. You're as dirty as me"

You choke in your words. "No-"

"No what?" Pedro mocks, sliding his digits out of you and shoving them inside his mouth, sucking on them while looking at you. You whine at the display and loss of them, knowing he's tauting you for fun. "Don't tell me you don't want someone to come in here and see you acting like a dirty slut? To see you almost coming here and now with just two of my fingers"

"Fine. What if I want to, huh? Just give me your damn cock already and quit teasing"

Words were lewd, but Pedro smiles with adoration.

"That's my girl"

His length springing free to slap against his now smooth stomach, your mouth drooling.

"Sit"

He glares back, "in the toilet?"

"Well, do you happen to see a couch or bed?" you quip. "That's right: you were the one who chose the bathroom, desperate old man. So needy, aren't you?"

You see your husband turning around, ashamed, and you laugh. "I didn't think it through" and you avoid to add a that's quite obvious snarky type of reply.

"Want me as much as I do?" Pedro doesn't protest anymore, grunting some spanish curses before sitting on the cold surface. "Good. Then comply"

You swing a leg over his lap, not afraid if the thing breaks, dragging your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, biting at your lower lip to hide a growl that seems to erupt from deep within his chest.

"Gonna ride you, baby. Is that okay?" you take the lead, and Pedro gets frustrated that you're taking up a plan that was originally his. Despite such, he just finds himself nodding wordlessly like a fool.

You line up, desperate to have him inside of you. But you go slowly down, taking his size, maybe because you're drunk or because you'd never fucked in a bathroom before. Because, really, how will you even try to explain your PR team a broken bathroom?

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push. His strong arm cages your waist, as he moans in your ear, bodies going up and down in sync. His slides are smooth across his length, helping you find your pace.

"Fuck" you whimper, legs starting to shake. "I think I-"

"I know" he interrupts you, a quick kiss to your earlobe. "It's okay; I've got you, linda"

He thrusts upwards, toilet creaking as Pedro keeps you in place.

You bury your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans, skin slapping against skin loudly, his movements becoming faster. The pressure keeps on adding, until the tightness on your walls is too much, and you're collapsing over his chest, folds spasming as he empties his load inside of you, seed deep in your walls, dripping down your legs.

"Oh, shit" you gasp, "Pedro!"

"Perdón!" he shouts, then covers his mouth. "Mierda, no quise ser tan ruidoso. Ay, carajo. Didn't want to spill all over you-" (sorry! didn't mean to be so loud. oh, fuck)

"There's a sink" you start, "and toilet paper. We'll manage"

"Right" he looks at his watch, "we got about ten minutes"

You smile, cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck. "If the chef took the whole thirty"

"There's only one way to find out" he gasps for air. "Pero, ¿no estás llena? Still up for dessert?" his big hand finds it's way to your tummy, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. It lingers, and when you look into his eyes, he averts his gaze, ashamed of whatever he thought. (but, aren't you full?)

"After this, I need some sugar to make it home" your eyelids drop. "I'm starving"

He presses a loud kiss to your head, "that's my girl"

"Yours" you pull back to rest your forehead against his. "Just yours"

He jolts forward, capturing your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it.

"Good. Now, I'll give my good girl what she deserves" he takes some toilet paper to clean his spilling load out of you, kisses running from your face to neck. Then, gently so, lets you dress in again, exiting the bathroom first to give you some cleaning up space. When you come back to your table, the Soufflé is there.

"Eat" he commands, voice thick and rough. You smirk, giving it a bite as you look into his eyes: hair disheveled, puffy lips and droopy eyes. The bite mark seems to shine, or maybe you need to lay down for a while. "Y no mires atrás, ¿sí? We got ourselves a crowd" (don't look back, yeah?)

That night, you upload a story with a picture of the dessert with a caption that reads: best meal I've ever had. The context is lost until news of your bathroom affairs hit headlines next morning, but you don't notice: your phone happens to be dead, and you're too busy getting railed in what could count as round two to charge it.

pompeiianbollockr: hello just woke up and saw the pictures WTF TMZ??? did they really do #that 😭 bring back public shaming unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they fucked in that fancy ass restroom ㅤㅤmostannoyingbillioner: unhing3dprincess QUEEN U ARE BACK 😭 BETTING UR GRANDMA AGAIN? OH IKTR WE WERE LOOSING THE ANCIENT TEXTS poppysplayground: ohhhhh they're so nasty (do u want a third) ㅤㅤann-gell: poppysplayground fr like INVITEN

The interview for Entertainment Weekly's behind the cover for Gladiator II was supposed to just include Paul and Pedro, but taking advantage of the free publicity and buzz your announcement made, they added you. Especially after the news about your restroom affair had hit, courtesy of TMZ; the rumor wasn't taken into account in the beginning, but now added gasoline to the gossip fire. Just what the movie needed: free promo.

You're sat in the middle of the two men, dressed in white as well, to match their attires with a flowy dress that loosely resembles that of Rome's. Then, Paul begins to speak.

"I saw the film for the first time when I was about 13 with my dad" he talks about the original movie.

"I saw it in the movie theater when it came out" you imagine a young Pedro lined up to see Russell Crowe's magnetic performance and let out a small smile. "I saw it twice, because of how emotional the movie was. Obviously it's incredibly visceral, and epic and the kind of movie you rarely get to see made, uh, these days"

You look at him, elbow resting on the arm chair as your body is all turned to his side. Truth is, you love listening to him, especially when he seems so invested, love for the subject rooted in each word.

Pedrito, you'd affectionally call. Ésto es una conversación, no un monólogo. And he'd blush embarrased, only for you to laugh it off, saying you would turn mute if that meant for him to continue speaking. (this is a conversation, not a monologue)

"It had an impact emotionally. I remember that, I guess, sadistically I was drawn to a second time go back again because, weirdly, it was very comforting. I remember it perfectly came out in year 2000. Right?" he asks, and Paul and you agree with a yeah. "I can remember what theater I was in and everything-"

"What theater was it?" Paul interrupts his passionate talking.

Pedro stops, "It, uh-" he rambles, before you all laugh.

"What about you, y/n? Were you even born?" Paul jokes, making you roll your eyes at his antics and deliberate desire to keep nagging you like some older annoying brother.

"I was like, born a year after you, Paul. But I didn't watch the movie until I was fifteen" you feel the gaze of both men fall upon you. "The first Ridley Scott movie I watched was Thelma and Louise, as you all know. Then my dad insisted I should watch it, and finally, at fifteen, when I had given up on my dreams to go on one last epic trip to the Grand Canyon, he played it. My eyes, they were, like, glued to the screen. I couldn't stop thinking about it for a while" you leave a small lingering touch on Pedro's arm, "just like he said: epic and emotional. Also, I had a huge fat crush in Joaquin Phoenix that lasted until I was twenty"

"That was like, seven years ago!" Pedro yells, making Paul snorts. "I feel deceived"

"Qué dramático. We're both married, you big baby!" you laugh, then make a joke before the next conversation starts: "You wouldn't think he plays an epic Roman General, would you?" (how dramatic)

They film some shots of you and the boys before moving to the next talk.

"I was doing a play in London at the time. I'd met with Doug and Lucy who are the producers of the film in LA, and then a zoom was set up and I spoke to Ridley for about 5 minutes about what Gladiator was going to be about. And then we spoke for the next 25 minutes about like, gaic football and dogs, and then I thought we'd do like camera tests and- but no, he just-" he shrugs. "I found out about two weeks later"

Now it's Pedro's turn.

"I knew that the project existed. I knew that Paul was doing it. I think it started with an actual like meeting with Ridley to go and sit down with him and I, whether or not the movie was going to happen for me or not, I was like I'm going to go meet Ridley Scott" he jokes, making you both chuckle. "It wasn't even about getting the job, it was like I'm going to go and sit down maybe five minutes, ten, twenty, as many minutes as I can"

"It was in LA" you speak up, "in his offices"

"Yeah, and thankfully he was willing to talk about all the things I wanted to know about, in terms of other movies, and that's what it really turned into"

"He's a wonderful Storyteller" Mescal compliments. "You could sit down with Ridley for-"

Pedro makes a joke, speaking over him. "Give me another one, give me another one-"

You still kind of hate the guy after his supposed comments on your husband's weight, but won't talk bad about a man who gave you work and your biggest role to the date yet, so you explain how it happened to you.

"I wasn't even planned to appear on the movie. As a matter of fact, my character was squeezed in last minute. Ridley is, just as they said, indeed, a storyteller" you smile. "The truth is, I worked with Cuba, his granddaughter, on a proyect together, a photography one. I was in London at the time, auditioning for a movie, when we met"

"London?" Paul asks.

"Yes" you laugh, ashamed. "I traveled to London with some of my savings, because you know what they say about not doing and then regretting. But I do regret it; I cried for my money to be back!"

"You didn't get the part" Pedro adds, barely containing a snicker.

"I didn't" you sigh, "Cuba saw me sitting alone on a café, eyes red with tears of failure and talked me into capturing such vulnerable moment. She didn't know me but made my day better, and she took some of the most beautiful pictures I've seen of myself. So, in a way, I won. I mean, she's the reason I got the role: my name came up on a phone call with Scott, as I had already made a name for myself, and showed him the pictures. He got in contact with my agent and I got the role after auditioning. Call that friendship nepotism"

"Didn't Pedro tell you about it? I find it funny that he was in the movie and didn't get you in" Paul comments, curiously.

"We were supposed to remain a secret, and the sudden connection when we had barely interacted according to the public, would've been weird. So no, Pedro rubbed his role on my face and then I came home with the new script as he received his. We both won our roles separately, and until we got it both, we realized just what it would mean"

"But now we're here" Pedro speaks fondly, taking your hand. "Rome conquers it all"

You can only hold his and stare back lovingly.

"Oh" the Irish man feigns disgust, "don't get all lovey dovey on me!"

The topic changes again, as Paul speaks.

"We meet early in the film, and this is again kind of Ridley's genius. He shoots it in a way that it feels plausible, but in like- the real action of that there's no way-"

They start talking ovwe each other excitedly about the process of filmaking, Pedro listing all the settings were the epic action takes place.

"We lock eyes" Pedro jests, "we lock eyes"

"All right" Paul plays along. "Three, two, one"

"i'm right here" you say, pushing your body to the front. "You got me third wheeling in my own marriage"

Paul laughs, breaking contact.

"Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. You've made the rest of this press tour unbearable!" he protests, but his tone is devoid of complain.

"Marcus Acacius represents like-" Mescal then speaks about your husband's character, "he's a Roman general"

"No, he is the general of Rome" you correct, smirking.

"Be careful, princess. Don't let the emperor see you all over his General" the blue-eyed man next to you mocks, and you roll your eyes again.

"Will you ever let me live?"

Paul then talks about his character. "I'm like a lieutenant in the numidian Army. I kind of see Acacius as this, he- he represents everything that I hate about, uh, the Roman Empire"

"Well, the Roman Empire is expanding and expanding" Pedro takes the word, "and invading Numidia just to gain more and more power, and we realize that there really is kind of no ceiling to the lust of that power"

"And that's to do with the Emperors, right? Like, played by Joe and Fred who are wonderful" Paul adds, complimenting both actors in the process. "And let's not forget our Empress too"

You make a face at that, feeling in the need to defend your character.

"Empress Alba is tragedy. I think she embodies well the feelings of helpnessless all women felt during that time. She's an object, another shiny possesion subjected to her husband's amusement, so she drowns in all pleasure available to forget her existence. Lucius hates her because he sees all the filth of Rome in her, like, this whole debauchery and squandering while the people beg for scraps. But it's a pattern seen across history, isn't it?" you pause. "I think it's interesting to compare her to Lucilla, because she's loved by the people, seen as human- despite being noble. It's sad because it's until too late that Lucius realizes she's a victim of the system he hates"

Pedro smiles at your little intervention, loving the way you explain a character you'd play so graciously. One of your favorite movies is Marie Antoinette, by Sofia Coppola, so probably it felt personal to you in some level. God, hadn't you made him watch it at least ten times?

"It unravels through the film that I've kind of miscalculated who I think Acacius is, just as with Alba" Paul comments.

"His character misunderstands my character just like Paul misunderstands us" Pedro quips, making both of you laugh.

"Then it kind of culminates in a big fight that we have in the-"

"Doesn't it always?" you add. "Wouldn't be an epic without it"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Paul dares, jokingly.

"No we're not talking about it" he cuts him off.

"Who's the better fighter'" Paul asks after some silence. Pedro dares him with a go on.

"I would say I'm better the better share. What you think?"

"I would say Lucius is the better fighter"

"Lucius is the better fighter" Pedro repeats slowly, incredulous. "Do you want us to fight? Lucius is a better fighter than the general of Rome, who survived decades and conquered" Paul tries to defend himself but Pedro doesn't let him. "I fight four men before I get you, and I call it off!"

"Yeah, but I think if you hadn't called it off -"

"You don't think I would have do some sort of mature aged learning-"

They end up discussing a bit more until you clear your throat.

"Why don't you ask for a third party to break your tie?" and you point towards yourself, mouthing a cute me with your painted pink lips.

"No!" Paul immediatly opposes, "It would be biased, silence her!"

"Have you seen Acacius' arms?" you gauge Pedro's arms, biceps flexing under the white attire. "It definitely isn't biased, at all"

The conversation carries on after some more shots. In some, you pose seriously, but in between such, you laugh along with them, Pedro even hugging you and Paul from behind in one of both. No kisses yet, but you know fans will be rabid just with the lingering touches and flirty undertones in your interactions.

"We began together in Morocco, and I think seeing that set and the scale of the production so quickly, desensitized me to the scale of the of what- Malta was in the Coliseum, and Ridley moves at such a pace, which I actually think really helped me because you don't have time to kind of sit there and and kind of bask in the wonder of it" Paul talks. "Because you're shooting three or four scenes, build your expectations of how to meet the size of, it or anything 'cuz 'cause it's impossible" Paul looks at Pedro and asks: "and I think Ridley; did I tell you what Ridley said first day of shooting to me? He came out to the tent while they were dressing the set, thousands of extras, everything fire, camels and he comes in, and he's- he's smoking a cigar, and we're all stood around and he's like Are you nervous? and we're all like No and he slaps me on the back and goes Your nerves are no good to me, before we filmed anything. But I think it was like- it's funny, but it's this idea that this is your playground, and you have to kind of step into it and own it. So, I-I don't actually really remember my first walking into the Coliseum, 'cause I feel like I lived in the Coliseum for about three or four weeks"

"You lived in the Coliseum of your mind" Pedro quips, making Paul laugh.

"I do remember, you know, when I first walked into the Coliseum, you know. It- it gave me chills. Like, literally chills. Look! I still get the goosebumps" you point your arm. "Honestly, all of it felt just too real, and I couldn't help but for a moment, think I actually was in Rome- that I belonged to nobility"

Pedro takes your hand and kisses it gently. "That's because you do, princesa"

"One of the things that I have never experienced on a movie before, is that there was so little left to the imagination" Pedro expresses. "Me and the rest of the ensemble are together in the emperor's box, and there's this enormous battle that's taking place, and Ridley composed all of the off camera for us in the emperor's box, with Paul leaping from one ship to another taking two men down what would you call that?"

"A cloth line flying" Paul answers.

"Clothes line?" you try.

"A flying- a flying clothes line" Pedro decides, carrying on "just so that we could know what we were looking at. I couldn't f*****g believe it"

"That's true" you remark. "The result goes so hard- I mean, it looks amazing" you sheepily laugh. "The action, the violence, the epic... it all shines through. It just- it makes sense"

The conversation shifts again.

"The legacy of the first film is so profound, and has such a strong place in so many people's, like, hearts and minds, it's inescapable, but I was looking at it- and I was like" Paul shares. "The screenplay does a lot of that work for you in terms of like, the rubbing the dirt between the hands. the kind of DNA and the genetics that Lucius inherits. I remember reading the script and there's like, a moment in the script where it's Lucius puts on the breastplate and it's written like Lucius now becomes Maximus"

"But Lucius, despite being a son, is also a man" you counter. "He isn't Maximus"

Paul agrees.

"I kind of tried to park that to one side, because ultimately, where Lucius is coming from at the start of the film, he has a very different journey than Maximus does, and I was hoping that whatever DNA- and even just the physical gestures, was going to be one part of- a kind of small part of the performance" he explains. "What I tried to do is figure out exactly who Lucius was and where those differences lay between Lucius and Maximus"

"One of the things that I loved most about my character is that he's introduced in the beginning of the movie, in this very epic battle sequence, that I think in its own way homages the first film" Pedro shares. "But even better, because we follow him back to Rome and discover his direct connection to one of the only characters that is living and with us from the first movie, and I loved being a a kind of thread, an invitation, into what we know from the first movie by being Connie Nielsen's man"

Paul looks at you silently, before poking your side: "Someone is real quiet with that comment"

You narrow your eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"I am Connie Nielsen's man as Marcus Acacius, but as Pedro Pascal, I'm all y/n's"

Your face goes red at how easily you are to be understood, your husband answering just what you wanted to listen.

"Ha! Look at your face, I was right!" Paul ridiculises you.

But after such an embarrasing moment, he shifts the conversation again.

"There's a moment where Pedro has this, uh- it's so clever from a- from an acting standpoint, but also in the in the script like, you see this brutalizing Force come into Numidia, and there's this section where there's the burning of the bodies, and that it's one of my favorite shots in the film" Paul muses. "It's this closeup on Pedro, when he says Vae Victis to the conquered, and you feel like it's a really difficult thing to communicate in one line, that you see: Oh, this General is, kind of wearing this responsibility with great difficulty and shame"

"I wasn't doing that at all" your husband deadpans. You stiffle a giggle.

"You were very good in it" Paul argues back with a smile.

"That wasn't what I was playing" he insists, serious but Paul asks What were you playing? and you all laugh.

"If I had a favorite scene, I'd say it'd be naval fight" you mention. "The colliseum is filled with water, and it's this- it feels like a thing that has never been done before, and with the people cheering and the buzz, and the announcement and echo of the drumming, it's as if you were there, in the crowd. The tension is palpable, the violence is thrown at your face but the scariest one, is the one that lies underneath. Uh, Lucius character tries to attack the General while we, you know, the royals and especial guests, are sitting at our box, and he gets so close, it serves, I think the bottom climbing the ladder to bite the ankles of the top. Obviously, that before we know who Lucius actually is, but I think it's kind of cool"

The interview is ending, the last of your twelve-minute conversation being filmed now.

"I am really excited for everyone to see Paul" Pedro beams, making the younger one laugh. "I'm sorry but it has to be said. You are sensational in the movie" then adds, "and pretty easy on the eyes"

"Everyone in this movie is easy in the eyes" you quip, looking at your side. Pedro coughs a bit before speaking again, even if a faint blush is coating his cheeks.

"-And he worked so hard, and I got to see that happen like, in front of me, and on the day and just lead with Ridley, this enormous crew and this enormous cast... To get to see that, on the big screen, is really exciting and I think people are going to- they're going to love it"

"That's very kind" you exclaim softly with a smile, then add. "I'm sure of it, especially if you were a fan of the first. Both are very interwined, although each film is its own thing" you comment.

"For a lot of us, the actors, we haven't worked on a film on that scale" you violently shake your head "and I think, there's a little bit of trauma bonding that went on with, kind of having to- kind of feel like, total impostor syndrome within it all. But to see your friends operate at that level on a film of that scale, doing like incredible work. I think, across the board, I haven't seen a film on this scale for a long long time rhat's rooted it has the scale and the performances, and I personally think it's one of Ridley's greatest pieces of work"

senhoritamayblog: y/n was SO REAL holding pedro's arm and talking abt how he'd beat paul bc he's beefy ME WHEN moltisantiii: you know what i think ridley's greatest piece of work is? giving us this trio youlooklike-clarabow: y/n is truly a princess 🥹 i don't know if i want to be y/n to be with pedro or pedro to be with y/n ㅤㅤann-gell: youlooklike-clarabow well, she's the people's princess after all!

You haven't even left the room when Pedro is all over you, kissing your neck on that sweet spot of yours that elates a little breathy whine. Doesn't he know you well?

"What are you doing?" you manage to squeak out as his needy big hands grope your body, flesh soft under the flowy white dress. He grunts when he catches your panties, embarrasingly wet already at just a few sloppy kisses and eager touches.

"What do you think?" he whispers against your ear as you both try to walk away from where voices can be heard, and then Pedro is guiding you to a room, closing the door behind him. If he was able to walk to the room while kissing you, he must've seen it in a passing. Had your husband plan this all along? Greedy needy old man.

"What I think, baby, is you're forgetting something" you push him off, giggling. He makes a little pout, making it hard to keep your ground. "Now that everyone knows we're married and we suddenly both go misteriously missing at the same time, they'll just put two and two together. I mean, does it really take a smart person to figure it out?"

Pedro doesn't back down, still caging your frame against the locked door.

"So?" his annoyed and tense voice only makes you laugh more. That turned on was he? Pedro seems annoyed at your fit of laughter, his pants tight.

"What do you mean so? We almost got caught by Paul last time!" you chuckle amused. "And, are you seriously going to pretend TMZ didn't air our bussiness just about last week?"

"Well, maybe you should've thought about it before" he goes back at the task of attacking your mouth, words spewing in between hungry kisses. You mouth a little taunting innocent looking Before what? and then Pedro is talking while his gaze is glued to yours, tightening his arms around you, and the answer is just about that. "You should've thought about it before getting all flirty with me, grabbing my arm in front of the camera like the naughty girl you are. So fucking needy you can't hide it for a few hours, can't even go through an interview without touching me, looking at me, being possesive at a fictional marriage even" your face burns hot with embarrasment at that. Oh, was he being nasty on purpose? Why bring that up? "Haven't I taught you manners?"

It's hard to force yourself to hold his gaze while standing still. Taunting. Defiant.

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you chastise, "do you want people to know we are raw dogging in the dressing room? That's the manners you so badly talk about"

His face goes red, his demostrations stopping for a bit as he studies your now serious face.

"Wait, do you want to raw dog in the dressing room?" he gasps at the boldness in your words, which, to be fair, is kind of exaggerated, as you both have said worst stuff before. "That's not what I had in mind"

"That's not?" you arch an eyebrow. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. You can't just kiss my neck greedily and touch my body eagerly like a goddamn starved horny idiot, and then expect me to not act up on it, you old man"

There's silence before he speaks up again. "Y/n, you talked about manners"

You take a deep breath in, making sure the door is actually locked.

"Well, fuck them manners"

You capture his lips on a hungry kiss, same kind of force you had made fun of him, just minutes ago. He's pushing his tongue inside of you, as his hands move up to your shoulders and back down to your waist. You rub yourself against him, looking for some kind of friction, and his big calloused hands pulls your waist closer in an attempt to do the same.

"Manners maketh man" he's reciting, and such stupid proverb and line from one of his old works shouldn't turn you this much. Pedro lifts up the dress until your body is devoid of the cotton, murmuring about how unfair it was for you to taunt him with translucent cloth, tender flesh hiding under the white. So hard to focus on interviews, mami, when you're close to me or something like that, as you're too lost in the fire. No bra? Fuck, baby. Do you want to kill me?

"Sofa" you command, eyes darting to the furniture so you can show him where. "Now"

You take off your panties in a go, revealing the slick that's just a few seconds from running down your legs.

"I see, my legs won't be the only thing drooling" you mock his agape mouth. He takes off the blazer with shaking hands, sitting as you get on top of him. Pedro kisses his way down your neck, sucking on the skin. How will you get out of here without comfirming suspicions? Surely, there must be something inside here that could be of help.

"Well, I've wanted to do this for a while" he mumbles against the now red patches of before honey-ed skin. Again? you think.

"Have me or fuck again in public?" you ask out loud, and even if you're laughing, there's a layer of fondness in your voice. "I'm starting to wonder if you have an exhibition kink, papi"

He breathes a little no before biting right above your collarbones, his tongue then releaving the pain with a wet slick move over the flesh as you let out a whine.

"Busy schedule, mami. A husband's gotta find a way to make time for his pretty wife, even if it means fucking her in the goddamn dressing room" he says into your ear. Pedro had done more interviews than you, and between that and filming for his other projects, he's right. "So what if they find out? Need them to know who you belong to. I'm just a devoted husband, will you punish me for that?"

You caress his face, pristine hair now disheveled, the gel succumbing to the heat and sweat trapped in the room.

"Look at you, naughty boy. El burro hablando de orejas" you laugh, "but of course I won't. Need you too so bad" (look who's talking)

His finger wanders down to your pussy, big hand roaming around the area. His middle and ring finger run over it, the golden band starting to shine with your arousal. Fuck, that just made you wetter.

"Shit, baby. You're so eager... wasn't lying when you talked before"

"Needed you since you kissed me today, when you woke up" your teeth grit at his lingering digits. "Your dick rubbed against my bare thigh, fucking hard"

Truth is, you're always horny; being married to Pedro Pascal does that to you. But mornings? Waking up to that handsome face and girthy dick? You really be testing yourself sometimes.

"Jesus, mami" he whistles. "So fucking dirty, thinking about me all the interview because my morning wood grazed your skin, you dirty naughty girl"

Pedro finally slides his fingers inside of you, making you squirm under his gaze as your back archs. "So fucking beautiful, can't believe you're all mine" he moans and you squeeze his shoulders, nails digging and bruising his skin under the shirt that sticks to his skin, body heating up like a furnace.

"Please, Pedro" you plead, lip biting your under to supress a whimper. "Please curl your fingers, need to have you- feel you inside. Fuck-"

Your words cut off as he moves his fingers with learned ease, his thumb rubbing your clit as a treat.

"Mmm" you murmur with pleasure, back arched again, your tits too dangerously close to his face. Without much thought, he licks your nipple and then devours the whole breast with his mouth. All while looking at you, this absolute horndog. Your nails dig in deeper as you pronounce his name in a shaky exhale. Wanting more. Begging for more.

"Mmm? That's right" his palm on your waist squeezes lightly, more pressure on his grip. "Can't speak 'cause I'm making you feel so good, huh?"

You don't answer, instead throwing your head back, nails digging deep to the point he winces, making a face by the pain. You mouth an apology, but then he licks your nipple again, and teeth move to your nibble your earlobe―you're not sorry anymore.

"S-stop" you choke out, body shivering.

"What? Can't take what you asked for? No muerdas más de lo que puedes masticar, niña mala. Bad girl" (don't bite off more than you can chew, bad girl)

His lewd words elicit another moan out of you.

"I-I can. In fact, I want- no, need more. I don't want to cum on your fingers" you whisper in his ear, hot breath probably why he shivers. "Pull down your pants, pretty boy, because I want to cum on your dick"

"Fuck, mami. What a dirty mouth" he moans.

Eager hands try to lower his pants as your fiddle with the same feel, the borrowed wardrobe struggling to get off in the current position. His underwear goes next, and you squirm as he aligns his tip with your dripping entrance.

You moan and he grunts, as his dick enters your tight folds, sounds clashing onto each other as so do your bodies, fitting perfectly. His hands travel from your waist to ass, his head against the back of the sofa, your hands that were before on his shoulders now on his chest.

"Such a pretty view you're giving me, wifey" he tries to laugh, but the sound comes out strained along each powerful stride of his cock that buries inside of you, each bouncing harder, his hands pathethically running over your ass, back, hips, and legs, as his eyes devour the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, tongue burning with desire to suck on the skin again. "So beautiful, and all mine. Only mine. Mía"

His words drip with devotion and wordship; all the love in the world. Pedro calls you beautiful, goddess, and a string of spanish words crossed with adoration. Mami. Linda. Princesa. Diosa. Hermosa. It has your orgasm looming over, head spinning and pussy stretched, walls tightening.

"I'm close" you whisper, riding him with soft-paced movements as his turn sloppy.

You see stars, walls almost kicking his dick out as you coat it in your slick, arousal dripping down until it's coated his balls and smeared the white attire. Fuck. Now Pedro's moving his waist, hunting for his own orgasm.

"Me too" he breathes out, "stay with me"

His hands travel sloppily to your waist, lazily holding you still with his calloused digits.

"Quick, baby" you breath out, "I'm sensitive"

"I'm almost there. Just hold on a little longer" then a whine before shakily pleading. "Please, please, just wait for me"

You move your hips slowly, aroused by his needy pleads, robbing a moan out of him. "Cute" you praise, making his cheeks redden with sweat and blush.

He is cute: hair messed up, mouth red and puffy, and brown puppy eyes.

"I love you so much" Pedro let's out, and it sounds like a confession, despite being married for so long.

"I know, baby, I know" you reach for his face, removing some sweat beads from his forehead, and he leans on the touch, closing his eyes as another gutural growl erupts from his chest. "I love you too"

You keep on riding until you feel his dick twitch inside of your walls.

"We need to stop doing this" you pant out.

"Too late for that, bonita. At least no one found out this time" Pedro laughs. "But you like the talk, don't you? Gonna give 'em something to talk about" he pants, "will fill you up so good you won't be able to walk without my seed spilling from you" sweat beads from your face fall onto his. He obscenely licks the salty drops. "Te voy a dar tantos hijos, que no cabrán en la casa. That way they will know you're mine" (will give you so many kids, they won't fit in the house)

You moan loufly, folds now coated on thick ropes of hot cum, as his movements come to a stop, slowing down until all that can be heard is your uneven breaths trying to recover.

And on cue, there's a knock at the door. Shit. You both remain silent, as if it would stop, but the knocking turns persistent.

"Pedro, I know you're in there"

It's Paul freaking Mescal, again. You might just have to invite him next time if he keeps showing up like that.

"Should I go?" Pedro whispers, and you shrug, stating it would be weirder to pretend he wasn't if Paul knew he was. "How do I look?"

You eye him up and down, eye glistening with dissaproval, red cheeks giving away your thoughts as if the furrowed eyebrows and ashamed gaze didn't already.

"We are fucked"

"No" he giggles, "we just fucked"

"That's not funny!" you roll your eyes, playfully smacking his chest. "Please, look into the mirror and try to fix yourself a bit. If not, we're doomed to be remembered as a horny couple. Oh, we were going so well! Fans will make fun of us and the press will call us horndogs" you lament, exaggerating your voice.

"Oh, shush. We wanted to be able to be in public. This is what it feels like"

You blush. "Maybe we can reduce the public aspect a bit..."

Pedro snorts before doing a quick fix to his appearance, walking to the door where Mescal patiently waits behind. Oh, of course; that little fucker. After the TMZ news dropped, he connected the dots and know that whatever happened in that trailer when Pedro told him to fuck off, wasn't holy at all. Now, he's probably laughing or scheming.

"Paul!" Pedro opens the door. "W-what's up?"

The younger man does a quick scan of his friend, barely able to hide a laugh.

"Looking radiant, my friend" he answers with a shit-eating grin. "They need to do some re-shootings. Have you happen to seen y/n? She just keeps dissappearing when you- oh, when you do!" he mocks. "Well, if you ever happen to find y/n, tell her you both need to get a good fix unless y'all want to show up on TMZ again. I'm pretty sure you can find something in this dressing room to cover those marks, yeah?"

He finally breaks down laughing in front of Pedro's shocked face.

"Ah, you guys are the absolute worst" he folds in a fit of laughter, "so fucking horny you end up fucking in bathrooms and dressing rooms!"

Your voice can be heard from inside as you growl, face red with fury and shame:

"Hijo de puta" (son of a bitch!), "don't make me bring Daisy Edgar-Jones into this!"

l-u-n-a-m: they're just milking their relationship atp for promo but i'm not complaining need more pictures of the photoshoot NOW vnightx: istg if they don't stop flirting in front of my single ass face. i need a gun at0michips: have i gone insane or does pedro have love bites ㅤㅤmybritishstyle: MI HIJO DOES NOT HAVE LOVE BITES. HE JUST FELL DOWN THE STAIRS

*i'm never gonna call twitter as X. it's still twitter, and will always be. fuck that ugly bigot filthy billionaire hoe called elon-trump-cocksucker-musk.

[hoshifighting]

Two words. Dilf Cheol. (I am on the brink of insanity thank yewww)

dilf!seungcheol

WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crying, marriage, his kid loves u, shy dilf!seungcheol at the beginning.

oh man, dilf!seungcheol though? i think about it every single day, i swear. and yeah, it all starts with that awkward-ass moment at the café. he’s standing there all buff and shy, trying to work up the nerve to ask for your number, his daughter hanging onto his leg like she’s his bodyguard. her big, curious eyes peeking out at you while he stumbles over his words. “uh… I just… I thought maybe you’d… uh,” seungcheol scratches the back of his neck, all nervous—like he isn’t the size of a tank. “you know, if you’re not busy… you could give me your insta?” he’s waiting for you to laugh at him, probably thinks he’s gonna get rejected because, you know, he’s got a kid and all. like that makes him less attractive or something. but you’re all heart-eyes the second his little girl pipes up with, “daddy thinks you’re pretty.”

dude nearly dies on the spot. he’s so red, you could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. but you just crouch down to her level, giving her the same sweet smile you flashed at the waitress earlier, and say, “well, I think your dad’s really handsome, too.”

game over. you’ve got him hooked, right there.

from then on, you’re texting nonstop. it’s almost like a high school crush thing, except the guy’s a full-grown dad who still somehow makes your stomach flip like you’re sixteen again. his insta’s basically a whole love letter to his daughter, like, every other post is her: her in some princess costume, her making pancakes (or trying to), her at the park with him, her with his dog. sometimes, you’ll scroll through his feed just to see him smile because, damn, it’s so rare he smiles like that anywhere else.

but then there’s the gym photos. god, those gym photos. all sweaty and pumped up, and you swear he’s showing off just a bit for you now that he knows you’re watching. his arms look like they could crush you, but the way he talks? it’s like he’s this big ol’ teddy bear wrapped in all that muscle.

“you eat today?” he texts you at like, 2 p.m., no greeting or anything.

you text back, “noo :(( too busy.”

not even a minute later, you get a notification from some food delivery app—he’s already sent something to your place. he’s like that. doesn’t even ask, just takes care of it. if it’s cold out, he’s dropping off a coat. if it rains, a brand new umbrella’s somehow at your work's door.

one night, you're scrolling through insta, and there’s this photo of him at some fancy work event, all dressed up in a suit and tie. goddamn, you think, biting your lip, because who knew seungcheol could clean up like that? the suit hugs every muscle, and it’s wild how he can look that good in anything from sweats to formalwear. you double-tap, and not two minutes later, he’s texting you.

“you like that one?”

you don’t even bother playing coy. “nah, I loved that one.”

there’s a pause, and you can almost picture him blushing on the other end, even though you’re the one getting all flustered.

“well, maybe you’ll get to see it in person soon,” he shoots back, and there’s a teasing edge to it, the same one that’s been driving you absolutely crazy since you started talking.

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s doing that dumb fluttery thing again. “maybe,” you reply, playing along.

and it’s like, you’re not even sure how this all happened so fast, but seungcheol? he’s always making sure you’re good, like his whole day revolves around making you smile, checking in, making sure you're eating, keeping warm. it’s low-key intense but in the best way possible.

and somehow, between all the little text convos and the insta stalking, you’ve found yourself seriously catching feelings for this dad with the cutest kid, the sweetest heart, and a whole-ass gym routine that’s absolutely unfair.

and you wonder: how the hell did you get this lucky?

seungcheol's always been like that—taking care of you like it’s second nature, probably because he’s used to being in dad-mode 24/7. you kinda feel spoiled, in the best way possible. he’s always looking out for you. it’s not that he’s overbearing; it’s just that this is how he shows he cares. but you know it goes both ways.

so one day, you decide to return the favor. you find this pink polo, something that screams him but in the softest, most endearing way. you know his daughter will love it too, ‘cause she’s all about pink and matching with her dad. you send it to him without saying much, just a little note saying, “thought this would look good on you.” the next time you see him, he's wearing it, and yeah, the shirt hugs his body perfectly. he’s acting like it’s no big deal, but you catch the way he blushes when you compliment him. “didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but his eyes are softer than usual, that little glint of he’s falling harder than he planned.

but what really seals the deal is how u handle his daughter. every time you two try to plan a date, something comes up—his mom’s busy, or the babysitter falls through, and suddenly, the whole night’s flipped. instead of a fancy dinner, you’re headed to the park or some kid-friendly café, making sure his little girl has fun. and somehow, you end up having more fun on those “ruined” dates, watching seungcheol let loose, running around with his kid while you cheer them on. it’s like you get him, get his life, and he’s not used to that.

and then, finally, one night, the stars align. his mom takes the kid for the weekend, and it’s just you and him. alone.

and oh god, does he reward you.

he’s been holding back for weeks—months even. all that pent-up frustration, that tension from constantly having to play the responsible dad while trying to not let himself get too attached to you, it all comes crashing down.

he’s rough, no question about it. but it’s the kind of rough that makes your whole body sing. his hands are everywhere, grabbing, holding, pressing you up against walls and furniture like he’s desperate to feel every inch of you at once. he’s strong, and he knows it, lifting you like you weigh nothing, carrying you from one spot to the next without breaking a sweat.

the first time, it’s almost frantic. he’s pounding into you like he’s afraid the moment’s gonna slip through his fingers, grunting into your ear, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. your legs wrap around him, but you can hardly hold on—he’s relentless, hitting that spot over and over until you’re crying out, body shaking violently.

you don’t even realize your legs are spasming until hours later, when you try to stand and nearly collapse from how shaky you are. but seungcheol’s not done. oh no. he’s far from done.

before you can even catch your breath, he’s down between your legs, eating you out like a man famished. this time, it’s slower his tongue doing things that make you arch off the bed, hands fisting in his hair as he drags you to the edge again, then pulls you back just to do it all over. every time you think you’re about to lose it, he eases up, grinning against your skin like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

and yeah, maybe it’s been ages for him, but fuck, the man knows how to destroy you. by the time he’s done, you’re a complete mess, legs trembling, heart flying from your chest, your body so sensitive that even the thought of him touching you again makes you shudder.

seungcheol though, he’s the type to take his time. slow and unshakable, like he’s gotta be absolutely sure before he makes any big moves. but with you? he’s struggling. there’s this itch under his skin, this need to lock it down, put a ring on your finger, make it official. and yeah, he’d never say it out loud, not yet. he’s got too much pride to come off that desperate. but every time he watches you with his daughter, every time she calls you her “best friend” or shows you the drawing she made of you three as a family, he’s fighting the urge to drop down on one knee and ask you to make it real.

he hides it well, though, keeps up the usual routine. he keeps taking you out on dates, some with his little girl tagging along, others just the two of you. and he’s always scolding you whenever you show up with yet another gift for her.

“y/n, you’ve gotta stop,” he groans, shaking his head as you hand his daughter a set of pink hair clips that match her favorite doll. “she’s gonna expect something every week at this point.”

but there’s that soft look in his eyes, the one that betrays how much he loves seeing you spoil his kid. he’ll roll his eyes, but you notice how he always says “my girls” now, so casually like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you and her. his girls.

one day, he takes you to her father’s day presentation at school. you’re not sure who’s more nervous, seungcheol or his daughter. but when she walks on stage in her tiny tutu, all giggles and shy smiles, it’s seungcheol who completely loses it. you’re sitting beside him, watching him tear up before she’s even started dancing. by the time the performance is over, he’s full-on crying, holding his face in his hands as you rub his back, trying to calm him down.

“it’s just… she’s growing up so fast,” he sniffs, looking up at you with watery eyes, completely unashamed of the tears streaming down his face. and you can’t help but love him more for it, for how much he loves his daughter, for how raw and real he is when it comes to her.

your intimate life? that’s been steady too, despite how busy things get. with a kid around, it’s not always easy to find the time, but seungcheol makes sure you’re never left wanting. there are the quickies, yeah, when his daughter’s asleep and you’ve got the living room to yourselves, stealing a heated make-out session that somehow ends up with your back pressed against the couch cushions, his hands roaming under your clothes while he kisses you senseless.

but if things get too feral, you two will sneak off to the laundry room or the closet, anywhere you can get a little privacy. he’s fast, efficient, but still so thorough, making sure you’re fully satisfied every single time. it’s like, no matter how quick things have to be, he’s always got this laser focus on making you feel good.

but even with all the passion, he’s still got that soft side. sometimes, it’s just enough to make out on the couch, your lips swollen from kissing, the weight of him pressed against you. and in those moments, there’s this quiet comprehension between you two. you don’t need the sex to feel connected—sometimes, just being close is enough.

but it’s getting harder for him to hold back. every time he sees you playing with his daughter, every time she asks if you’re coming over for dinner, he feels it. that pull. that urge to make you his. and one night, after his daughter’s fallen asleep and the two of you are tangled up on the couch, catching your breath after another one of those wild, stolen moments, he looks at you, really looks at you, and the words just fall out of his mouth.

“marry me.”

it’s not planned, not rehearsed. hell, he hadn’t even thought about it until the moment the words slipped out. but once they’re out there, he realizes he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. his hand tightens around yours, and he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, like he’s already bracing himself for the answer.

and all you can think is, finally.

[sinner-as-saint]

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes 

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list. 

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.” 

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night… 

— 

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you. 

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl. 

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it. 

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you. 

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees. 

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought. 

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again. 

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.” 

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore. 

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered. 

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music. 

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.” 

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap. 

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.” 

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room. 

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His. 

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man. 

But no. 

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either. 

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest. 

“She left me.” 

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may. 

—

But now Bucky knew where you were. 

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions. 

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you. 

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all. 

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you. 

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV. 

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods. 

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily. 

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it. 

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered? 

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap. 

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs. 

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him. 

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly. 

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.” 

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you. 

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…” 

That’s it. 

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away. 

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though. 

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home. 

But that ended up not happening. 

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance. 

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind. 

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here? 

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?” 

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out. 

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed. 

“Bucky, I—,” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.” 

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care. 

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.” 

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did. 

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry. 

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman. 

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear. 

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.” 

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in. 

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive. 

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough. 

More, more, more. You mentally chanted. 

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?” 

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably. 

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.” 

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…” 

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out. 

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. 

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?” 

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you. 

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding. 

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you. 

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt. 

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly. 

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,” 

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.” 

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” 

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers. 

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.” 

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look. 

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him. 

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it. 

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit. 

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so… 

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less. 

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be. 

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it. 

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered. 

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.” 

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.” 

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.” 

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too. 

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia. 

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend. 

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you. 

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.” 

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.” 

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.” 

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?” 

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.” 

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.” 

You nodded in confirmation. 

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned. 

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly. 

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.” 

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.” 

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,” 

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently. 

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.” 

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.” 

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?” 

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply. 

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again. 

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here. 

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.” 

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice. 

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,” 

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,” 

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.” 

Bucky frowned. “Baby…” 

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.” 

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.” 

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen. 

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now. 

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind. 

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space. 

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.” 

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.” 

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?” 

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.” 

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone. 

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you. 

— 

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes. 

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well. 

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already. 

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased. 

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.  

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time. 

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours. 

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.” 

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again. 

“And you’re mine.” 

— 

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?” 

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” 

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen. 

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second. 

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought. 

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable. 

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?” 

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you. 

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.” 

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?” 

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle. 

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.” 

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow. 

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.” 

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough. 

“Bucky.” You warned. 

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.” 

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,” 

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,” 

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?” 

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.” 

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face. 

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.” 

You sniffled. “Buck…” 

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.” 

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile. 

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked. 

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you. 

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased. 

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly. 

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried. 

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants. 

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again. 

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…” 

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you. 

This time, he made you a different promise. 

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.” 

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

[landoughnut]

Mine All Mine

♡ masterlist - request - emoji anons

♡ pairing - oscar piastri x fem!reader (fc - hailee steinfeld)

♡ summary - (request :) oscar obsessing over his girlfriend on the internet!

♡ warnings - horny/simp oscar, crack, some fluff, some cursing, use of y/n

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | thank you so so much for requesting!! i hope you enjoy lovely xx

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[whocumthis]

I NEED KÖNIG LIKE KRAMPUS

Damn it, I don't want to read about König dressed as Santa Claus...

Give me him going back to the village he was born in every year to dress up as Krampus since he was old enough...

Give me this huge man dressed up in a scary costume and putting the terror into everyone, but always being sweeter and gentler with women and children, even without realizing it...

Give me him meeting the reader, at some point they talk and she makes a silly joke about needing to be punished by Krampus for being bad this year...

And finally, give me this man dragging her into the nearby forest, still very close to the village, and fucking her like an animal, pulling her hair as he shoves his fat cock into her needy hole, covering her mouth so it doesn't make too much noise and pressing her harder against the tree. His big body and scary mask prevent her from seeing the red face and lustful eyes that watch her, only letting her hear the deep voice moaning in her ear and muttering incomprehensible words in German.

Finally, they both climax and he carefully makes sure she's okay, escorting her to her friends again and ignoring their slightly snide comments before returning to his role as Krampus and scaring the others.

The next morning, his mother sends him to deliver some things to some neighbors nearby and, by chance, he has the pleasure of bumping into the sweet girl who accepted him so well yesterday. Now, out of his clothes and Krampus persona, he tries to approach her sweetly and makes it his mission to have her for himself before January arrives and they both leave to go back to their normal lives...

[pirateprincessblog]

in vino veritas

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: hongjoong loves art, wine, and pretty girls. how convenient that on the opening night of his art gallery, as he sips his red wine, his eyes land on you. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!hongjoong x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hongjoong, bratty!reader, artist!hongjoong 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, oral (m receiving), toys, gagging, hint of ddlg

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: divorced parent child, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i always write the reader as inexperienced or innocent, this time i'm trying a different approach hehe hopefully it works!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔,

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝒏𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒓.

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈.

it is a challenge to find an outfit appropriate for the evening. you do not wish to go, not since your mother has made it clear she is going only for mr kim. your father, as his best friend since childhood, would be there, and your mother couldn't pass the opportunity to continue her game of jealousy since their separation.

"bold of you to assume that mr kim will even lay his eyes on you." you comment, passing by her room and glancing at her outfit choice. a red dress shorter than her knees with a low neckline. a classic. funnily enough, she used the very same dress to separate your father's then girlfriend from him and took him for herself. she is your mother, but you don't close your eyes at her mistakes. "besides, you're not twenty anymore. that dress doesn't look flattering at all. it's not age appropriate."

"god, just like your father. insults, insults-"

"oh, so when i kiss your ass i am like you, but when i disagree with you, i am like my father? how lovely."

"go to your room and get dressed."

"why do i have to go? you're the one who's trying to get dicked down toni-"

"go to your room!"

defeated, you groan and slam your door shut, then throw yourself on the bed. even with your head buried under your pillows, you still hear her obnoxious voice.

"and don't talk back to me! you've become very rude, and i will not have you embarrass me in front of our friends there! especially not in front of hongjoong."

you don't remember mr kim. you only know that he had a wife, that she also cheated, much like your mother, and since then he only travels and creates art wherever he goes. ever since you got the invitation, you've been trying to find out how he looks now. but all he posts on his social media is the destinations he's visiting, food and sneak peeks of his art. not even a glimpse of him in any picture. come to think of it, your mother's standards are pretty high. your father had your school friends coming over to your house just for him, you can only imagine what mr kim looks like.

deciding on a simple short sweater dress and knee high boots, you put your coat on and head into the autumn evening. your mother trails behind, having difficulties with walking in such high heels. you don't wait, still angry about her plan involving your poor father and an innocent man.

it is only seven in the evening, and something tells you that you'll be here for a very long time. at least midnight. on the bright side, you'll finally see your father. and meet the mystery man behind all the artwork you've been admiring. he doesn't post much of it, but what you've seen, it's pretty damn amazing.

"dad!" you spot him as soon as you enter the crowded space, your father with his recognizable thomas shelby outfit and a glass of whiskey in his hand. you hug him, tight as always, and subconsciously smell him. tobacco, whiskey, and vanilla. home.

"hey, kid." he returns the hug, a little less tight than yours as to not hurt you. "oh you smell great! that the new perfume i got you?"

"oh, i absolutely love it. i bathe in it every day."

"i'm so glad you like it." he gently ruffles your hair, enough to show affection but to not mess it up completely. "now, where's ursula?"

"very mature, calling your ex wife a cartoon villain. what, i put on a few pounds, so what?"

"it's not about the pounds, and you know it."

you turn your head away from your mother, hiding the laugh that is threatening to escape. but she catches the way your father winks your way, and claps her hands, causing a few heads to turn.

"a father and daughter teaming up on her mother. lovely. if you love him more than me, why don't you go live with him?"

you finally look at her, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "you threatened to hurt yourself if you saw me exit the house with a suitcase. you guilt tripped me, called yourself an awful mother and whatnot. what are you on about?"

defeated, she tries to push the glass of whiskey out of your father's hand, and when failing to do so, she groans and stomps down the gallery hall. and yet she calls you two mature sarcastically.

"i truly hope she finds someone crazy enough to handle her, just so you can finally move out and have a life of your own. is she giving you a hard time?"

"i can handle her. usual guilt tripping and nagging, nothing new. how was your trip?"

your father happily tells you all about his recent trip to spain and france, which was mr kim hongjoong's gift to him for birthday. he went on and on about all the food he tried, all the buildings and art he saw, and how fun and informed about everything mr kim was.

"he knew so much that i was ashamed to be walking with him sometimes. i didn't know the difference between baroque and rococo. hell, i didn't know what rococo even was. i'm definitely taking you to see la sagrada familia on my next week off."

"sounds great, dad."

"listen, i'm gonna go find the restroom, too much whiskey," he whispers, "you feel free to walk around and watch. if you see something you like, i'll ask hongjoong for the price and i'll get it for you."

you look at him with a scoff, but when you see that he is dead serious, you raise your eyebrows. "what? you'd buy an art piece worth thousands of pounds?"

"family discount," he winks at you once again, then disappears into the crowd.

"a drink, madam?" someone says next to you.

your eyes land on the tray with glasses of red and sparkling wine, the person holding it dressed in a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, hair slicked back and white gloves on his hands.

"no thanks, i don't drink."

he nods understandingly, then continues his journey towards the arriving guests. you were never one to buy art. well, you weren't exactly one to be really into it. you see a picture, a sculpture or something similar, you think it's neat. do you go out of your way to find out the artist, or search for more? not quite. but walking down the waxed floor under the rich chandeliers and looking at the massive paintings, you might get into it. finally, something that is not minimalism or some picasso-wannabe shit. stunning golden frames, detailed paintings, and harmony of colours on canvas. all of it put together so perfectly, as if it was brought back from the times of renaissance and not painted in an atelier just outside of town earlier this year.

"drink?"

"i said no already, thanks." you reply, not bothering to look at the person.

"just a sip? to loosen up. you look rather stiff."

you turn your head towards the voice, confused as to why the waiter is persistent. but next to you stands a well dressed man, two glasses of red wine in his hands. he wears black slacks, a tight black turtleneck, and a long black coat. his eyes are pools of honey under the yellow chandeliers, and his hair shiny streaks of gold. he looks breath taking, and you almost thank your mother for dragging you here.

he holds the wine glass for you to take, and you do so. he raises his own towards you, then takes a sip of it, not once breaking eye contact with you. you bring yours to your lips, and the alcohol barely touches them before you move it away. you were never a fan of alcoholic drinks. they tasted awful, and brought out the worst in you. you don't want to embarrass your father tonight. or yourself in front of this gorgeous looking man.

"you've spent quite some time looking at this. admiring the work or surprised at the nudity?"

you scoff, looking at the painting again. gradually going down the hall, the art becomes less art and more erotica. how disappointing. "not admiring, that's for sure."

"oh? how so?" he asks, intrigued.

"well, for starters, very unrealistic. such big breasts and such a tiny waist? has that hongjoong ever seen a woman in his life?"

he laughs along with you, taking another sip of his wine. "i heard he paints with live models, so i'm guessing that this woman really exists somewhere."

"alright, i'll let you have that one. what about this? very inaccurate." you walk over to the next painting, pointing out all the things you were dissatisfied with.

"even an art critic isn't this harsh. it's just art, at the end of the day. an artist's way of escaping and creating his own world to get lost in. nothing wrong with that, right? writers and readers have books, gamers have games, chefs have cooking and baking, and artists have art."

"well, if the artist is an old pervert and all his inspiration comes from naked women, then sure. nothing wrong with that."

after a few moments of silence, you look over at him. he stares at the painting, puzzled. you clear your throat, sensing the awkward air enveloping you both. "i would love to continue this conversation, but if i stay i will only become meaner and accidentally insult you, and i certainly wouldn't want that. i'm passionate when it comes to me being right and proving others wrong."

you give him the glass of wine back with a sour grin, and he returns a scoff of disbelief. "charming."

"wasn't trying to be."

and with that, you leave him standing with two glasses of wine again, just like he approached you. you visit the restroom too, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. all the women are gorgeous tonight, wearing classy dresses and heels, and suddenly you feel underdressed.

"oh my god, your boots are so cool!" as if she heard your overthinking, the girl behind you exclaims. "where did you get them?"

"uh, i think it was a sale at zara. very uncomfortable though, i don't recommend." you reply with a laugh.

"that's okay, they look so pretty it's worth it. anyways, love your makeup." then, she exits the restroom.

you look at your boots, plain black with a chunky heel and over the knees. nothing special about them. still, you appreciate the compliment.

it doesn't take long for you to find your father again, this time in front of a sculpture of, again, a half naked woman. how odd.

"there you are! found anything?"

"no," you reply dryly, and refrain yourself from nasty comments because of his friends.

"well, that's a shame. hongjoong, this is my daughter i've been telling you about."

your heart drops when you hear his name, and then drops a little lower when your eyes lock with the familiar brown ones you just abandoned further down the hall.

"oh, i've had the pleasure," he responds, not looking surprised like you. "an informed young woman, for sure."

so much for embarrassing yourself. if he is offended, he doesn't show it. he only extends his hand as a formal greeting, and when you offer him yours to shake, he turns it over and kisses the top of it. you are baffled, unable to do or say anything. you look over at your father, who doesn't blink an eye to the unusual situation you've found yourself in. mr kim releases your hand, but not before holding eye contact with you just a few seconds longer.

"ah, right, hongjoong is a gentleman. also, if you didn't already notice, he loves women. not like that, of course. they're just-"

"they are my biggest muse. this world's biggest and prettiest treasure."

"charming," you repeat his word from earlier.

he smirks, teasingly. you want to slap the smirk off his face. he adjusts the sleeves of his turtleneck, rolling them up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. it is only then that you notice he isn't wearing the coat anymore, and you have the freedom of shamelessly staring at his body. his forearms are big, painted with bulging veins. the turtleneck hugs his waist and chest perfectly, to the point of slightly showing the outline of his abs. he isn't bulky, but built like a greek statue. he holds himself so elegantly, not bothered what anyone has to say about his work. it's a shame, because you still have a lot to say, regardless of how hot and bothered you are for him at the moment.

"ah, let me just clarify something. in case someone thinks that i'm just an old pervert..." he discreetly glances at you, making your jaw drop slightly, "...all these women have come to me and asked to be painted or sculpted. i have never once asked a woman to undress for me, nor did i sexualize her when she did so herself. i see art, not porn material."

your father seems offended that someone could have made such an assumption. little did he know that the culprit was the young woman right next to him, hiding behind his glass of wine.

"say, hongjoong, how does that work? do i have to send you an e-mail? or just show up at your door?"

if you thought that the situation couldn't get more awkward, your mother decided to prove you wrong.

"mom!" you scold, pink spreading on your cheeks as you look at the people surrounding you.

"what? why wouldn't i want to be painted by such a handsome-"

"unfortunately, at the moment i do not take any commissions. the gallery is my priority."

and just like that, mr kim shuts her down. he spares her no glance, in respect towards your father, or simply because he is disgusted by such an idea and behaviour. he is not stupid, that you notice. he seems to know the difference when someone genuinely wants to be painted, and when someone tries to take advantage of the situation and expects something from him.

as the night goes, you notice that kim hongjoong isn't old like you called him. he is your father's age, sure, but he aged like fine wine. it takes a lot of staring and concentration to notice a few gray strands of hair cleverly hidden among the golden brown ones. you notice that he doesn't talk much. he lets the people around him talk, and only engages when they have a question about a work of his.

you also notice his hands. his fingers, specifically. you can't help but imagine his fingers dipped in clay, shaping it the way his mind intended, his focused gaze and messy hair. you wish to see him at work, at least once in your life. just to satisfy your imagination. because to make a move with a man of that age is just absurd, and disrespectful towards your father. and himself. he just said that he doesn't do it for sexual purposes, and you were almost offering him the same thing as your mother.

awful.

you glance at him one more time, and when you find him already staring at you with an intense gaze, you take it as your cue to leave. a look of hatred, curiosity or lust, you didn't know. you only knew that you felt nervous under his stare, sweat emerging on your skin and stomach turning from fear that he read your mind and caught you thinking about him inappropriately.

"it's a bit late, i'll excuse myself."

"oh, already?" your father asks, planting a kiss on your temple. "i suppose it is quite late. do you need me to walk you back home?"

"no, that's fine. you guys have fun though. oh, mr kim."

mr kim looks at you, surprised that you're addressing him after all night of avoiding his gaze. "yes?"

"wonderful works, truly. thank you for the invite." it's the least you can do after shamelessly shitting on his work in front of him.

"why, thank you. i appreciate it, especially coming from my best friend's daughter. let me walk you to the door."

and you don't get a say in it. your father practically pushes you into his best friend, who skillfully grabs your waist and restores your balance. your breathing seems to stop the few seconds he holds you, grip secure and manly on your body. when he releases you, it feels empty. you wish to be held again, manhandled, thrown around, anything by him.

"listen, i'm sorry for what i said." you say, walking towards the door and keeping up with him.

"mhm," he hums, as if it's not a big deal.

"no, really, i just..."

"it's fine." he says, holding your coat in the air for you.

"i sometimes speak before i think," you put one arm in the sleeve, "and i end up hurting someone or embarrassing myself."

"it's really fine." he says, tone calm and low. he helps your other arm in the sleeve, then, as if he knew your newfound weak spot, he places his hands on your waist and turns you towards him. only now, you are so determined to apologize to him that you don't even notice what he is doing.

"in this case, i did both. mr kim, please, accept my apology." he adjusts the collar of the coat, then buttons it up.

"i told you, it's fine." he is persistent.

you are a babbling mess, trying to correct the image of yourself he has created in his head, which couldn't possibly be good. after all, mr kim hongjoong is way too hot to have a bad opinion about you. you continue speaking, and he continues adjusting your clothes. it is not until he firmly grabs your jaw in his big warm hand that you shut your mouth. you look at him, almost startled, and gulp.

"i appreciate honest opinion. you are the only one who didn't kiss my ass tonight, and i appreciate it more than all the compliments i've gotten. so trust me when i say that it is fine. don't ever apologize for your opinions, you're not that kind of girl."

"what kind of girl do you think i am?"

he smirks, then rubs your cheek with his thumb as he brings your face closer to his. "not a good one, that's for sure."

the words shoot arrows to your core, and you suddenly feel hotter than the hottest summer day. you exhale shakily, not knowing what to do with yourself. he looks satisfied with the reaction you gave him, and decides to finally stop teasing.

"watch the road when crossing." he sends you a playful wink, then opens the door for you.

"thank you," you manage to say, and only nod his way before making your way down the street into the chilly autumn night.

the more time you spend with your father, the more you keep hearing about the artist who won't leave your mind anyway. from his stories, mr kim has been spoiling him rotten. no wonder he isn't home anymore. sitting on your father's porch on his swinging chair and taking in the last rays of sunshine before the harsh winter, you can't help but ask about the mystery man.

"how come he's your childhood best friend but i've only met him that evening?"

"well, you were young. you didn't pay any attention to things that aren't crushes, school and gossip."

"wow."

"it's true. you were just a kid, then a teen. and hongjoong wasn't around much during the day. then, he met ramona and moved with her to a different town. and then, while he was trying to save money and start a family, she was jumping on someone else on the bed that he bought with the last savings. they separated, and hongjoong started travelling just so he could be away from the town. he said everything reminds him of the night he found them. and i accompany him, which is really hard for me as you can see."

"oh, you're living a very hard life at the moment, dad. jokes aside, that sucks for him. do i know her?"

your father scrunches his eyebrows, as if he doesn't want to remember the woman. "she's still around. she was at the gallery, that whore."

it surprises you to hear him say such harsh words. he is usually semi-polite with his speech. mr kim must've really gone through something when even your father reacts like this.

"really? why would she come? did she have the invitation?"

"no, of course not. this isn't a big town, words spread faster than anything. she came with her boytoy to make fun of him, but got shat on when she saw how successful he has gotten. she just looked at me, tried to push the statue like a fucking idiot, then left angrily. i don't know what goes on in that woman's mind."

you scoff, then feel relieved that there was a bigger fool than you there. "how did he become an artist?"

"you can ask him that yourself. he doesn't bite, you know."

you take a sip of the peach tea, then set it aside quickly. still scorching. "why would you say that? i'm not scared of him or anything."

"you were running away from him yesterday. i didn't want to ask because i didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but it was a little disrespectful towards him. he was hurt."

"did he tell you that?" you raise an eyebrow.

"no...?"

"he'll live." you simply say, then grab your phone.

you type his name in the social app again, hoping to see a new post. and there it is, a brand new post, just twenty seconds ago. simple pictures from that night, the group posing in front of the museum, then in front of various photos. then, random shots of food, drinks, and finally, you.

you, staring at the photo that you loved the most in the hall, taken from the profile. it looks like something that jumped out of pinterest, and not something that he secretly snapped before approaching you. the photo is so good that you might even post it yourself.

art admiring art, the caption says. you're surely reading too much into it. he doesn't mean it about you. there's multiple people in the photos, for god's sake. but no, your delusional self loves to make an appearance, and thus the filthy thoughts of kim hongjoong resurface again. you've been trying to push it down, especially in front of your father, but one night of insomnia, a fresh image of kim hongjoong in a tight turtle neck grabbing your face, and a hand down your sleepwear, you've fallen into the void.

now, you can't escape it. you fantasize about him, day and night, stalk his accounts, even take the longer route to work just to pass by the museum in hopes of catching a glance of him. but all you've gotten is sore feet and more sexual frustration. nothing helps anymore, not a single toy that you have once neatly packed under the bed and were collecting dust up until recently. so when your father asks you to drop some things over at the atelier, you are happy to do it.

when you hear the word atelier, you expect a cozy little room in an old building with wooden furniture and with the smell of paint. but you forget that kim hongjoong is filthy rich. the address your father has given you takes you to a whole wooden cabin just outside of town, surrounded by a light forest. you gulp, realizing what situation you are in.

you are about to be alone with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life. you are about to walk into his personal space. and you have to keep your thoughts collected, just in case he is a good people reader. and you somehow feel like he is. you are wet just standing outside, holding the bag of items your father has sent him and shamelessly thinking about all possible ways he would fu-

"oh, hi. i thought i saw someone standing there. please, do come in." mr kim calls from the door, wiping his hands with a cloth. you see stains of paint all over them, and paired with his bulging veins, you realize that you aren't the strongest soldier today and that you have to run home to a certain device as soon as possible.

"good evening, sir. i actually just came to drop this off, per my father's request." you hold out the bag for him to take.

he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, still standing at the door. "you can approach, the cabin doesn't bite."

you exhale, trying to calm your heart beat. it feels like it's going to jump out and plunge straight into his face. you finally make your way towards him, trying to avoid his gaze. you don't know if he does it on purpose, but it is so intense that it feels like even your hair is sweating. he is looking you up and down as you approach, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. he takes the bag from your hand, seeing that you don't plan on speaking yet.

"and i don't bite either." he smirks, then goes back inside the cabin.

"i wish you did," you mumble, then follow after him.

the place smells like paint, just how you imagined. and it is much cozier than it looks outside. you finally get a good look at him, now that his attention is on the contents of the bag. he wears a halfway unbuttoned white dress shirt, almost see through, black slacks, and has messy hair. as if he read your thoughts, he runs his fingers through it, taming the golden strands and showing off his finely aged face.

"a drink?" he asks, hand reaching for the wine bottle that sits on the table among the brushes. "ah, right. i forgot."

he pours himself a glass instead. you bite the inside of your cheek. you hate it, you really do. but for him? no, you're not like that. not with your father's friend, god no.

"this one is actually very sweet. it doesn't have that much alcohol in it. want a sip?"

he holds his own glass for you to try. under the warm yellow lights, you see the outline of his lips on the edge of the glass. you feel ashamed that you do take the glass, and press the lips on the same outline. it takes every ounce in you not to jump into his arms and make out with him like there's no tomorrow. but you manage, only taking a sip of the dark liquid before returning the glass to him. you keep the liquid inside your mouth, afraid to let it pour down your throat. you are not ready for the stinging and bitter aftertaste. but the longer you hold it, the more you look like a squirrel with puffy cheeks and your eyes tear up.

mr kim notices, and chuckles. not mockingly, but maybe a bit fondly. he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand again. you notice the dried paint on his fingers, and his rolled up sleeves again. his eyes look into yours, and if he wasn't holding your head up so you can look at him, you would surely turn around and leave. it is too much, yet you don't have many options at the moment. to look away, or to maintain the eye contact. he seems to be into it, and so you give it to him. you are starting to be into it too.

his thumb rubs your cheek, much like that night. his eyes roam your face, as if he is memorizing every single detail on it. he licks his lips, and his gaze softens. "swallow for me."

in the dead silence, you can almost hear your sanity shatter. you do as he tells you, with no thoughts in your brain. the liquid stings your throat, but the growing lust inside of you overshadows it. you subconsciously lick your lips, mimicking him. he smiles to himself, noticing it.

"good girl."

what you didn't expect is for him to turn around and sit on the wooden stool, rolling his sleeves further up and getting back to his painting. you stand in the middle of the room, red faced, warm and with drenched panties, shocked at his behaviour. does he do this with his models too? gets flirty, then continues his work like nothing happened? is that how he gets such erotic paintings?

"you can sit on the couch if you want, i'll be done soon. i can drive you back."

you sit on the couch, immediately sinking into it. "how did you know i didn't drive here?"

"you always walk," he simply replies, his back still turned towards you and his hands working on the canvas, "i see you every day when you pass by the museum."

oh.

"what do you say? think you can manage with me for half an hour in here? i heard you don't like me much."

your cheeks are redder than ever, lust combined with embarrassment bringing out the worst in you. "i apologized."

you hear him chuckle. "i know. no harm in a little teasing."

minutes feel like hours as you sit upside down on the comfy green couch, legs resting over the backrest and head hanging from the couch above the carpet. he doesn't pay you much attention, but all of your attention is on him. you watch as his back muscles move when he reaches for a certain paint or brush on the high shelves, as his fingers run through his hair to get it out of his face, as his hand rubs the paint into the canvas. you feel a sensation on your clit, seeing his finger rub the paint in such an erotic way that you think it's not a coincidence.

you breathe out, trying to calm yourself again. you could leave, yes. but you don't want to. you're fine. you'll live. you distract yourself with snooping around his drawers next to the couch. you find a clean set of brushes, unused paint, and packages of clay. you play with the brushes, tapping them like drumsticks, then acting out spells from harry potter, and whatnot. until you decide to dim that little spark of dignity you had left.

you glance at hongjoong again, who still sits on the stool and has made progress on the painting. you flip your skirt over, and move your panties aside. using the soft part of the brush, you glide it over your clit, and shudder at the feeling. he stops for a moment, and you hurriedly put the skirt back in place. he doesn't spare you a glance, but simply takes a sip of wine. when he returns to his work, you also return to yours.

your hand reaches for one of the pillows, and gets trapped under your teeth as your other hand continues teasing you with the soft brush. you bite into the poor pillow, tug it and arch your back, all while pleasuring yourself with kim hongjoong's brushes, on his couch, right behind his back. you go painfully slow, as to not make too much noise. you're driving yourself crazy, and you can't help but imagine what wonders he could do to you if he just turned around.

so close to reaching the release, you close your eyes, and throw your head back further, still in the upside down position. the brush works faster, the soft bristles gently but fast brushing against your swollen clit, caressing your nerves just right. so damn close, just a tad bit more, and-

"put that down."

like frost, his voice makes all the heat and lust disappear from your body. you sit still, eyes still closed, hoping that he will just disappear if you do so. that you will get yourself out of the awkward situation.

"i said..." you hear footsteps, and before you can actually listen to him, he grabs you by your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, "...put. that. down."

his eyes are stone cold, eyebrows furrowed. you gulp, feeling so small and miserable under his gaze.

"now."

your hand drops the brush on the couch, then fixes the skirt. you try to sit up straight, but hongjoong's grip on your face is strong. you stay still, waiting for the scolding to begin. you're terrified, you want to disappear. you want to drown in that bucket of paint that sits next to his stool, and never resurface again.

"what the hell do i do with you? first you hate me, then you like me, then you avoid me. now, you ride my painting brushes? how am i supposed to approach this?"

you don't try to speak. you don't trust yourself with words. you can only sound pathetic, begging for forgiveness again. so you decide to keep your mouth shut and let him be disappointed in you. he breaks eye-contact with you, only to have a sip of his wine which he brought over to the couch. he keeps it in his hand, eyes locked on you again. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, while his eyes roam the state of your body. your chest still rises and falls quickly, coming down from an orgasm denial. flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead with hair sticking to it, almost drool covered pillow with bite marks, and your arousal on his brushes and couch.

hongjoong breathes out his nose, a glint visible in his eyes.

"open up." he says, voice raspy and eyes softened.

you do as he says, opening your mouth until his thumb can comfortably sit in it. he massages your tongue, circling it and playing with it. he takes another sip of the dark liquid, then looks at you with that glint again. he removes his thumb, only to bring his head closer and pour the liquid from his mouth into yours. you swallow it without hesitation, too mesmerized and aroused by the situation. never in your life did you think that drinking from someone else's mouth was going to make you almost orgasm.

"good girl," he praises, voice barely a whisper in the silent cabin.

he downs the rest of it, then throws it on the floor aside. the glass cracking makes you twitch, but he is quick to hush you and caress your cheek.

"s-sir-" you finally speak, not even sure what you want to say.

"yes?" the man replies.

"i- i should-" you stutter, trying to come up with anything that will get you out of there, "i should go."

hongjoong raises an eyebrow, believing your words as much as you believe them. his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks. then, he takes the pillow you had just used and gently puts it under your head.

"comfy?"

"yes...?" you say, confused.

"good."

through the opening of his pants, he pulls himself out, wasting no time in giving it a few slow strokes. your mouth waters at the sight, even if it is upside down. his hard, thick cock leaks above your head, ready to be licked clean.

"open up for me, princess."

you shudder at the nickname, and at the way he gently holds your head so that it is aligned with his cock. you open your mouth once again, slightly sticking your tongue out for him. the man presses the tip against your lips, coating them in pre-cum before pushing past them. he grunts, placing both of his hands on your cheeks to hold your head still. the warm muscle glides against your tongue, kissing the back of your neck. you can't help but imagine how it would glide inside of you, slowly, or fast, gently, or hard. you'll take anything he gives you.

"relax your throat, baby." his voice is raspy and quiet in your ears.

you do as told, trying your best to relax it. as soon as you do, hongjoong seems to lose himself a bit. he slams his hips forwards, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and making you gag around him. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you don't let them. his hand then reaches over to your skirt, flipping it over and exposing your drenched panties still pulled aside.

his fingers find your entrance without teasing, and he dips his finger in so easily. your walls squelch around him, arousal flooding and coating his digits. due to the position you're in, his rough fingers rub your spongy wall exactly how you need it. you squirm under his touch, feeling overstimulated even though you haven't orgasmed yet. he adds two more fingers, stuffing you almost to the brim. you're full of him, in both holes, and a whiny and squirming mess.

he abuses your mouth, admiring the outline of his cock on your neck.

"rub your pretty clit for me, princess."

hesitantly, your fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing it in circles and guiding yourself closer to an orgasm. hongjoong's fingers are restless in your hole, pumping in and out, making you moan and whine around his cock. the vibrations must feel good for him, because he throws his head back and groans. entirely lost in the pleasure of your tight mouth against him, he can't help but slam his hips harder and faster, and his fingers start matching the rythym.

you try to beg, but all the words are muffled by his equally abused cock.

"what was that, pretty girl?" he looks down at you, pure ecstasy on his face.

"please-" you somehow manage to say it.

"please? do you know what you're begging for?"

you shake your head. you don't, truly. begging for him to speed up? to slow down? to make you orgasm? or not? you have no idea. you just beg him, to give you everything he has to offer.

the moment is shattered when your phone rings, the word dad on the screen making your stomach turn. hongjoong stops, giving you a moment to collect yourself before handing you the phone. he helps you sit up straight, putting a pillow under you so that you are comfortable. you take a deep breath, who knows which one in the row that day. hongjoong caresses your cheek, as if he wasn't deep inside you both ways just seconds ago. charming, he'd say.

"hello?" you answer the phone.

"hey, kid. did you deliver those things to hongjoong?"

"yes, dad."

"great! i was thinking about inviting him for dinner tomorrow. wanna come and help me?"

"sure thing."

"i was thinking steak, with that whiskey sauce you make..."

you are no longer paying attention, because hongjoong is on his knees in front of the couch. he gently spreads your legs, and looks at you with a mischievous look. you shake your head silently, asking him to not do anything. but all falls in water when hongjoong licks a stripe up your slit and you shake under his touch. your legs close reflexively, but the older man is quick to hold your thighs in place as he devours you on his couch. he makes out with your folds, as if he is kissing your real lips. his tongue teases the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles. he sucks it, tugs it and rubs it, all the things that have your fingers grasping his hair and pulling mercilessly.

his fingers find their way inside you again, curling up so that you get maximum pleasure. a whine escapes your lips, and hongjoong stops everything he is doing. you beg him with your eyes not to stop. you can't go home empty handed. but the man only puts his hand over your mouth, and ever so slowly, slides inside of you. you swallow him so easily, arousal leaking all over him and his couch.

"dad, i really have to-" you gasp, feeling his cock brushing against your sweet spot, "i have to go."

"oh? alright then. so, tomorrow?"

hongjoong grabs your waist, not moving his own hips, but instead slamming your body on his cock and bruising your skin with his strong grip. his hair falls over his eyes, loose strands perfectly decorating his face painted with pure pleasure.

"huh? yes, yes! tomorrow. okay, see you!"

you've never ended a call so fast, and you've never thrown your phone so far away.

"don't hold back, darling. let me hear you."

and that's when you let go. you grip his shoulders, moan into his ear, whine, squirm, whatnot. you certainly don't make it easy for him.

"for an old pervert, you sure are having the time of your life." he teases.

you try glaring at him, but you can barely keep your head up. "just fuck me, please."

"you finally know what you're begging for. only you're not asking properly."

"pretty please?"

"no, you can do better."

you think hard, defocusing from the orgasm chasing for a moment. then, it clicks.

"please, daddy."

hongjoong chuckles happily, and snaps his hips harder into you. "that's a good girl."

something about having sex with clothes on drove you crazy, especially since hongjoong was in his natural habitat and clothing. it pushes you over the edge, seeing him brush his hair back and looking at you with such lust. you're shaking harder than ever, clear liquid squirting out of you and all over him and his furniture. you're in shock, trying to reach your breath, while hongjoong still sloppily fucks his cum into you.

he grunts and hums against your lips, not yet kissing you. which you suddenly find very frustrating.

"you should shit on my art more often, eh?"

with a laugh, you try to cover yourself with the blanket. but hongjoong takes it from your hand, then uses it to wipe the liquid off your body. he tosses it aside, then reaches for his own coat to give it to you. hesitantly, you take it. as you put it on, hongjoong examines your face for any traces of regret. when he sees none, he smiles fondly at you, pressing his lips on top of your hand, just like that night.

"you're a very pretty young woman, you know that?"

"thanks," you say awkwardly.

"you wanted to kiss me, i know. but..."

you roll your eyes, acting unphased.

"...i don't think i'm ready yet."

"you just rearranged my guts, and a kiss is a problem for you?"

he laughs, but not because it's funny, but because you are right. he helps you lay down on the couch, then covers you with the spare blanket. "we'll get there, pretty. right now, i want you to take a power nap before i take you home. got it?"

"got it, sir."

"good girl."

[entitledgirly]

Let them talk - Cregan Stark x Reader

(A/N Sorry, English is not my first language.)

TW: Use of the f-word. // Nādrēsy means bastard in Valyrian.

It had not been a week since the young princess was in Winterfell and the rumors that followed her as a child in the Red Keep now also accompanied her moons away from there.

The gossip began as whispers behind closed doors, but those whispers became light conversation and no longer happened in the privacy but were discussed in the hallways as if they were about the weather.

The young woman did not care about the bitter words, they did not affect her too much, she knew that they were empty words (even if they were true) with hardly any evidence. But when those words began to be directed towards her little brothers all her animosity turned into rage. How dare they speak ill of the princes of Dragonstone around their damn older sister?

The worst part was the looks that the young woman received from the palace service, dirty looks full of judgment. But their comments and words towards her were nothing more than polite, although she could read between the lines and felt them loaded with venom. And she thought that vipers lived in Dorne and couldn't handle the northern cold well. Who would have thought there were northern vipers.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror of the room she had been given a week ago, when she arrived at Winterfell, she felt uneasy about the event she was about to attend. A feast in her honor. An honor that the gossips of the palace did not consider her to possess. She would have rejected the invitation had it not been for the fact that Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the fucking North, had asked her himself. She couldn't not go to the celebration after being invited by the supreme Lord of the North, and even less so when her mother needed his help and army in the upcoming war.

The maid who was combing her hair smiled at her through the reflection of the mirror. When she finished braiding the brunette's hair, she politely stepped away and extended her hand to help the young woman get up from the chair. Y/n gently accepted the help of the maiden, her being one of the few people who had expressed genuine kindness towards her. She had decided not to dress too extravagantly, not as she would have dressed at home, to maintain the austerity with which northerners seemed so comfortable. A dark purple with lilac accessories along the line of her cleavage that complemented her eyes, all accompanied by a cloak that had been given to her by Lord Stark himself when he saw that she did not have an appropriate one for the cold summer that existed in Winterfell.

Three soft knocks came from the door, the young woman knew it was Cregan because he had told her that he would accompany her to the dining room and thus begin the feast. She approached the door and opened it, meeting the tall, stoic figure of Cregan, who scanned her from head to toe in return. Her eyes remained longer than necessary on the skin that showed her neckline, she knew that perhaps it was not appropriate to wear a neckline so deep but it was one thing to give up her jewelry and quite another to give up her favorite part of the dresses. Besides, she wanted to test if the man was as stoic as he always seemed or if he had any weakness, and the young princess may not have found a weakness so to speak but she had found something that made the ice-man melt a little. They had known each other almost since they were both born and in all those years Y/n had never seen Cregan look at her like that. It made her nervous. Really nervous.

He offered his arm to the princess and she accepted it, threading it into the older man's. The conversation they shared while walking to the dining room was calm, no heavy topics or deals were discussed, they only talked about the weather and what there might be for dinner. Light conversation.

Once they arrived at the dining room, they were both announced and after greeting some people who were still standing, everyone proceeded to sit down as dinner was going to be served shortly.

Dinner went well, not that she liked Northern food too much, with meats full of nerve and hard or too gelatinous parts, but she opted for the fish dish (from a winter river) that a servant offered her. During the feast, topics of revelry were discussed because the festivals of a fairly important town in the north were approaching, with less than a moon left for its celebration, and the Lord of those lands asked Cregan for his blessing for the celebration. Cregan accepted and the songs that followed were received with less joy, at least from the princess. The issue of legitimacy was brought to the table and with it, the honor of a pure house, with a worthy bloodline. The young woman felt many, if not all, eyes on her.

Now, she thought, not only the service thinks badly of me and my family but also the upper and noble class.

She decided to only pay attention to her dinner and let the rest of the guests have whatever conversations they wanted while she was on the sidelines. But, evidently, it was too much to ask for a quiet and peaceful dinner.

"And you, Princess, what do you think of illegitimacy?" the Lord of Rills asked with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile.

The brunette gently placed her fork on her plate and with a polite smile responded, "Everyone in their home is free to do what they want as long as it does not affect the interests and common good of the rest."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course, My Lord, who could not think that, it is the most fair thing. You cannot always decide how things turn out, much less such gruesome issues, everyone is responsible for their actions and only their actions while the rest of us must be witnesses but not judges. We must never judge.” If she were alone she would have patted herself on the back for that answer.

"Do you think that people in high positions, like us or even more important royalty, can commit such sins?" The man asked her again after taking a sip from his glass.

"I wouldn't call it a sin, it's more of a… mistake. We all make mistakes, we can all make mistakes, we all have made mistakes and we all will make mistakes,” she felt how little by little her patience was running out, but with a somewhat harsh breath she continued her response, "Sometimes we are not able to control the wind and we must learn to live in the storm, My Lord, it does not matter if you are a noble, a king or a peasant"

"Is that what your mother told you, princess? What a fucking joke." the man laughed

“Excuse me?”

“Your mother was the first to make mistakes, marry a faggot and sleep with that— that gentleman, what was his name again? Hedwin Song?" The Lord commented while laughing

Y/n clenched her jaw and swallowed hard at that shameless mockery.

“Harwin Strong. His name was Harwin Strong, I would ask you to be a little more respectful with the dead." The brunette's voice was about to break.

“With your dead father you mean” The princess' eyes widened and her jaw almost touched the ground. At her side Cregan had a very similar reaction, but it was quickly overcome by anger. “Your mather is a whore who bedded that joke of a man and had not only one but four kids— That we know of, of course! And she pretends to have them all on the line to the throne!”

“You know you're talking to one of her children? One of the children of the true queen and heir to the damned iron throne.” Y/n felt her teeth grinding from clenching them.

“Just a bastard” he laughed at her

Cregan went to get up but Y/n put a hand on the man's, urging him to sit down again. She got up from her seat and stood right in front of her chair.

“Perhaps you, My Lord, are right and I am nothing more than a bastard, but still Targaryen blood runs through my veins and I was raised under the manners and customs of the Velaryon, therefore, I will forgive your rude words, which in another time they would have been punished with your own blood. Today I feel generous. A generous bastard.” she said from her elevated position above that of the man in front of her who was looking at her with a shit-eating smile.

"Indeed, princess, you are very generous, just as we have all been with your mother and her adventures."

Y/n grabbed her own cup and, elegantly raising it, decided to say a few last words, "Let me toast for you, My Lord." he nodded still with that ugly smile on his fucking face “I think your sincerity should be rewarded with something that I think is very Targaryen." She waited for everyone in the room to think what could the gift be. "I will send a dragon to your lands and you will see all the bastards who live in your lands burn, although perhaps you should be careful that my dragon does not burn your heir or you will have to put one of your illegitimate children in charge and no one would want that, right?" The man stopped smiling and looked askance at his wife, sitting next to him, who was frowning suspiciously.

“What are you even talking about, fucking bastard?” The man shouted, getting up from his place and facing her, but even with that he wasn’t taller than the princess.

“Oh, you didn’t tell her? You didn’t tell her how the Lord of Rills had an affair with a whore from King’s Landing 7 years ago and had a little boy?” Y/n was not a fan of gossip, but as a royal negotiator she knew that it was sometimes crucial to her dealings. The man stiffened and his jaw almost hit the floor.

“You fucking—“

“And you know other thing, My Lord?” she smiled and lowered her cup “My favorite word is dracarys,” she whispered that last part, “and I’d love to use it near you so you’d burn for all your sins” She drank the entire content of the cup, placed it on the table and left the dining room in an elegant manner, without looking back.

Later that night, while she was keeping Nādrēsy company, Cregan appeared. Y/n did not turn to greet him, she only said "Hello, My Lord."

“What you did before—“ he started but she cut him before he could finish his sentence

“—It was a mistake, yes, and I am deeply sorry but I couldn’t just sit there and wait until him decided to stop insulting my family”

“I know, I came to say that I’m impressed” cregan solemnly admitted

“What?” The young woman turned to look at him, only to find that he was a very short distance away from her.

“One day you will be the best Queen the Seven Kingdoms will have”

“I am not even in line for the throne at the moment, M’Lord”

“I’ll help you kill that fucking usurper” he said

“Wait— Wh—“ she smiled and opened her eyes with glee “That means you’ll help my mother?” she asked excitedly

“Yes, princess, I will help your mother take what it’s hers” Y/n couldn't help herself and hugged Cregan, taking them both by surprise, so she quickly separated. “If I had known you’d have done that in return I would have agreed much sooner"

“Thank you, My lord, thank you, thank you. Mother will be overjoyed the moment she knows of this!”

“Although she can wait to find out, it is late, Princess, you should retire and rest until the morrow, and then send a letter to Her Majesty." Cregan said

“You are right, M’lord”

"I will walk you to your room, My Princess."

"It will be a pleasure…Cregan"

[frozenmoonshine]

TR boys' unexpected/random red flags headcanon:

Just some crack and slander for the humor purposes. As always, don't take it too seriously, and have fun with it at least half as much as I did writing it!

Since I obviously need to spell this out for some of you, even though it's literally in the title of the post - these are the red flags you wouldn't normally expect from them! That's the whole point of them being unexpected. So don't go telling me how I missed the mark with some characters, or how their red flags are something else. Yeah, we all know the obvious ones, but why would I state the obvious?!

TW: F!reader; implied mysogyny; mentions of DV, cheating, and general toxic behavior.

🚩Mikey - proposes on the second date.

🚩Draken - never talks about himself whatsoever. Even when you directly ask him to open up about what's troubling him, he's still difficult and avoids conversation.

🚩Baji - mama's boy. At first, it looks sweet, how he cares about and respects his mother, but soon you realize that he is dependant on her, and cannot make any decisions bigger than what to eat on his own, without "consulting with his mom". Silver lining is that Ryouko is an amazing, lovely woman, but you don't exactly want to date both the mother and the son at the same time, do you?

🚩Chifuyu - overromanticizes everything, then gets mad at you if things don't turn out irl the same they were in his imagination.

🚩Mitsuya - really damn cheap. Like, ok, I know you grew up poor, but going out once a month won't bankrupt you! (You're not even asking him to pay for you or anything like that, but he just refuses to step even one milimeter out of his frugal ways!)

🚩Hakkai - aside from the obvious red flag (you get a package deal of Yuzuha and Mitsuya as well, if you are dating Hakkai), he can also be incredibly self-absorbed and condescending sometimes, thinking he's so much better than you, etc.

🚩Pah-chin & 🚩Peh-yan - putting them together cause they have the same red flag - if you date one of them, the other one will third wheel all of your dates, no exeptions. Might as well just go poly and date them both at this point!

🚩Smiley - refers to women as "females".

🚩Angry - doesn't let you do anything on your own/overprotective. Look, Souya, it's nice that you're being a gentleman, but do you really think I'm incapable of getting a glass of water for myself?! His behaviour can be incredibly stifling and suffocating.

🚩Mucho - won't ever let you pick a date spot cause he's convinced he knows the best. You always end up doing what he wants for dates, or you don't go on a date at all.

🚩Haruchiyo - yeah, sure, he's got more red flags than China, but the not so expected one is that he's incredibly fussy and naggy about the smallest of things. "That's not how you put the trash bag in the can!" "You folded the laundry wrong! Look how I do it!" "Wipe the counter with this, not that!" "Don't leave your hair everywhere! I don't wanna live with a cat!" And so on and so forth, it feels like you are living with your parent(s) all over again!

🚩Hanma - another one with enough red flags to call it a carnival, sure, but the one that catches you off guard is just how jealous and possessive he is. "Where are you going?" "Why is your dress so short?" "You can't go out with male company wearing your tits out!" "Why are you hiding your phone?" "Who's that?" and so on and so forth, you get the idea.

🚩Kazutora - yet another walking red flag in a row (at least his unhealed self), but even as an adult (healed) he still retains that aggression from his teens and gets into random street/bar fights semi-regularly. Him coming back home bloody and bruised is not a rare occurrence at all.

🚩Kisaki - cheats. No idea how he manages to, provided that he looks like... well, that, but he still does.

🚩Taiju - a religious freak prone to domestic violence... what more red flags can you even ask for? None, indeed. But what you don't expect on top of all that is his complete lack of manners and just how loud and embarrassing he can be in public.

🚩Inupi - rude to the waitstaff.

🚩Koko - never got over his ex, stuck on her forever, and cannot ever be fully present in his current relationship. Compares you to his ex all the time, every other person he dated after her was just an unsuccessful rebound.

🚩Izana - does he even have any green ones? Likely not. But what you wouldn't exactly expect from him right away, given all the other red flags that come into front upon the first contact - is that he's a bad mansplainer. "You probably don't know how the betta fish do this thing where..." - Izana, I'm literally a marine biologist.

🚩Kakuchou - breaks up with you over the smallest things. He missed your call cause he didn't hear his phone ring while in the traffic? - He's not good enough for you and you two should break up. He was late 5 minutes to your date because Izana needed his help with something? - He's lowkey ready to commit seppuku, and of course, dramatically breaks up with you. It's tiring, honestly.

🚩Ran - gaslighter and manipulator par exellence! Undiagnozed NPD, but the symptoms are everywhere.

🚩Rindou - loves the gym more than you. Obsessed with working out and body building, won't eat normal food, spends all time in front of the mirror flexing and "checking his gains". Will either try to "get you into fitness" (force you to act the same way he does) or constantly tell you that you "don't understand" just how important it is to him. Is your 10th workout this week really more important than our anniversary, tho, Rindou?

🚩Mocchi - manspreads all the time, and manspreads badly. He's also that type that won't move away from the sidewalk if a woman is coming the opposite way.

🚩Madarame - probably not unexpected, but he's the biggest, worst incel of all. Lives in the manosphere and inhales the alpha bro bullshit podcasts.

🚩South - judges and publicly makes fun of your music taste. It doesn't matter what you listen to, unless it's 101% exactly the same as his taste, he'll be a real bitch about it. Of course, don't even dream about getting a hold of the aux cord!

🚩Shinichiro - doesn't shower regularly. Idk Shin, maybe your lack of personal hygiene was the reason for all those rejections so far? Just some food for thought...

🚩Takeomi - yet another one that's redder than the red army, but what you don't expect is how much he infantilizes you, especially if you are younger than him! Even if it's just one year age difference between you, he'll act all patronizing and constantly emphasise his "rich life experience" and tell you how "you don't understand some things because you are (too) young".

🚩Wakasa - secretly insecure about his height and gets super jealous if he sees you talking to a tall guy. Doesn't even matter if it's your blood relative or a random stranger asking directions in the street - Waka isn't having any of that. He'll sulk and jab at you for the whole day, never saying what the actual problem is.

🚩Benkei - Cannot find/keep a proper job to save his life! Got into some kind of beef with every single potential employer, so he's doomed to working at the gym for the rest of his days.

[sleepybiscus]

♡VALENTINES!!♡

---- Dandadan characters x reader on valentines day headcanons♡

---- ken, momo, jiji, aira

----gender neutral reader, fluff

♡KEN TAKAKURA♡

♡ Ken has never had a romantic partner before, let alone celebrated Valentines day. So when February came around and you asked your boyfriend, "You'll be my valentine, right?" though he nodded his head frantically, he had no idea what to do.

♡ He immediately goes to Momo for advice and she clowns on him but ultimately tells him to get you some kind of gift.

♡ He does his own research and buys you a box of chocolates from the convenience store and when the day comes, he nervously tries to make conversation with you, stalling nervously before handing you the gift.

♡ The rest of the day, you spend time together; though, Ken is still as shy as he usually is with affection.

♡MOMO AYASE♡

♡ Momo has always dreamed of spending a romantic valentines day with her future partner, and even though you aren't Ken Takakura (the ACTOR), she wouldn't have it any other way.

♡ Though she would've loved to have a romantic dinner just you and her at a fancy restaurant, she knows damn well that neither of you can afford that; so, home it is.

♡ Granny Seiko is entertained by the idea that Momo is inviting someone over for Valentines day, so she lets the two of you sit together in her house without interruption.

♡ You share a nice evening with her and end up going up to her room and snuggling up on the bed and talking about random things.

♡JIN ENJOJI♡

♡ When he first sees you on February 14th, Jiji pulls you into a big hug in his arms. He excitedly hands you a box of chocolates and little teddy bear.

♡ Be ready for the most cliché Valentines of all time because you will spend the day out with your boyfriend, holding hands and walking through the park or something along those lines.

♡ At home, you watch some stupid romcom movie and Jiji tries to be cute and lovey dovey with you, no matter how cringe he is. He cracks stupid jokes and after some scenes he tells you "That's us!"

♡ Even though he tries his best to treat you the best he can, make you laugh and smile every day, he still wants to spend extra time to make sure you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

♡AIRA SHIRATORI♡

♡ Aira definitely expects a romantic day like she's read in shojo manga. She's been preparing ever since she met you for the moment when she accepts a bouquet of red roses and a heart shaped box or chocolates from her lover on the coming day.

♡ She's set aside time in her day to go on a lovely coffee date with you and spend time together; you meet her in front of the door, and it's clear that she dressed nice for the occasion; but don't be mistaken, she always looks this nice! As does a perfect pretty girl such as herself.

♡ Though on the outside she seems like she's composed, used to being treated like this (which she is, to an extent), she's really a mess when it's just the two of you. She's actually really appreciative of you doing so much for her and she shows it in her own ways!

♡ You spend the evening together, enjoying the other's presence; she's especially glad to have you in her life.

♡♡♡♡

-happy valentines!! here's an early little treat while i work on other things :] not dead just busy😔

[torasplanet]

❝𝙔𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙍𝘼𝙂𝙊𝙉𝙎.ᐟ❞

K. RYUGUJI + F. READER + T. MITSUYA

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; its the year of the dragon and a celebration occurs for taka and kenny from their personal red envelope;)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, final timeline, kenny is ur bf (srry emma..), threesome, praise, dp(double penetration), anal, petnames(baby, babydoll), reader wears dress, unprotected sex (i really need to write protected damn😭), spit as lube, idk pretty vanilla and skin color not mentioned

marls notes 2 u(*´▽｀*) ; ik this is so late from new years but i got this idea from a tiktok like five days after new yrs haha so this is a lunar new yr special since i celebrate !!

It was a new year, new feelings, new resolutions, new everything! And of course, the entirety of your friend group just had to throw a big ass party with you being one of the many that planned it and of course, the one to make it actually look good and not just a bunch of non-matching decorations being thrown across the room like Mikey and Baji were going to.

Well, Mitsuya was a part of that too and you two worked together to decide the perfect color coordination for the party which is where these new feelings came in. See, Mitsuya has always been attractive; you could never deny that, no one could but something just changed.

He was looking better than usual but you couldn’t find anything about his appearance that physically changed to make him look better. It was like he started glowing for some unusual reason and the glow made him prettier. Of course, you felt bad for finding him so attractive recently because you were dating Draken, his best friend.

However, when thinking about it, you started to feel a little less awful for your feelings because you remembered that Draken had talked about wanting a threesome multiple times but never came up with someone to do it with. He thought Mikey wouldn’t do it and it’s not like he exactly wanted him to because Mikey tended to just sleep around instead of getting in relationships so…it’s self-explanatory. Takemichi obviously couldn't do it, he’s married and Chifuyu damn sure would not, he has too much respect for Draken and you to even be comfortable in that conversation.

Anyone else was off the table for him and for you but neither of you ever considered Mitsuya. Maybe if you brought him up or hinted toward that, Draken might say yes.

The third person in this threesome being Mitsuya made so much sense. You knew him so well and you guys were close, he and draken were extremely close even sharing a tattoo and he was such a gentleman meaning he’d treat you with the utmost respect which was a big thing Draken was worried about. He was also single so there was a chance he’d say yes.

The only problem was that…you just didn’t know how to approach your boyfriend about all of this. So you spent the whole party talking and not saying a word about this while also sneaking peeks at Mitsuya throughout the night and with the more you were around Senju (she kept passing her blunt to you and doing shots with you), the more you got sloppy with the looks.

When Izana suggested that they take this party to Ran and Rindou’s club, you were so quick to agree as you wanted to party but yet, you were at the bar staring at Mitsuya while babysitting a cup that Senju had given you to hold before running off which you were taking small sips at because she obviously wasn’t coming back being too busy throwing ass on some guy.

You stared at the lilac-haired male as he chatted with Baji, your thighs clutching close together at the sight of him but when you felt eyes on you causing you to shift your gaze, you got incredibly embarrassed making eye contact with Draken especially when he grinned at you.

Turning your head and instead focusing on the liquid in the cup. Your face heated up when you heard his loud footsteps even over the loud music hoping he didn’t see that but oh he did. Draken had seen all of the glances you gave to Mitsuya no matter if they were careless or an attempt at being secretive and he kind of knew what you were thinking. He hoped he knew and it wasn’t just a guess that happened to be wrong.

His long arm draped around your shoulder and he pulled your body to his “Hey baby, you okay?” Draken asked. The strong smell of his signature cologne filled your nose while you avoided eye contact with him at all costs so he wouldn’t see the embarrassment and neediness in your eyes “Yeah…just waiting for Senju.” You muttered hoping he wouldn’t pick up on everything and just the weirdness.

Draken grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him with ease making your thighs quake. He stared at you for a second before grinning. He had discovered your thoughts.

“Looks like she’s gon’ be a while baby. Wanna come over there with me?” Draken asked laughing gesturing his head over to the spot in the club he was just at with Mikey and Baji but you just looked away from his eyes laughing a little with him while shaking your head but you didn’t say anything so the conversation went silent as soon as the laughter stopped.

Was this the time to ask Draken about it? Or were you just high and a little drunk? Well, you were definitely that but what if it was both? Nothing would happen…Draken would never judge you especially not about something like this that you’ve talked about before so what’s the harm? He already saw the want in your eyes.

You glanced back over at Mitsuya before looking back up at Draken “You and Takashi have the same tattoo, right?” Yeah, Draken definitely knew what you were thinking now that you had said that.

You knew the answer to that question and you were just asking that to bring up the topic of Mitsuya nonchalantly “Yeah, baby you know that.” Draken said with another chuckle coming from his mouth dropping his hand from your chin as you shuffled in place as if there were a fire in your pants. Your gaze was on your feet which were strained from the straps of your heels then you looked up at Draken through your eyelashes still keeping your head down.

“So, you guys doing anything special after this? I mean, it’s the year of the dragon now…” You said knowing that if Mitsuya had overheard it, he would’ve commented that the Chinese Lunar Year isn’t celebrated until February but it was basically the same. He would know what you mean. “No, you had an idea or somethin’?” The black-haired male asked leaning down to get closer to you as if he couldn’t hear you over the loud music but he could, he just wanted to hear whatever you said loud and clear. Shrugging your shoulders as you put your lips to the cup sipping at it minorly just to conceal your face from your boyfriend more “Maybe a party.” You muttered into the cup but Draken heard you and grinned. Draken understood not only what you were talking about but what your mindset was. Bringing up such a nasty topic as a gift for the Lunar New Year while wearing a red dress.

You were going to be the red envelope given to the two dragons. Whether you did it on purpose or not didn’t matter because it still meant the same and Draken liked it.

His hand went to the small of your back and began to rub over it gently “Gonna plan it for me, baby?” You nodded almost immediately putting the cup down so you could look at draken better to make sure he truly got what you were getting at. “Think Mitsuya would like that?” You nod. “Let’s ask him,” Draken said before leaning up and turning to where Mitsuya was talking with Izana. You leaned closer to your boyfriend watching Mitsuya as he did. Draken called him over and you nearly smiled at how Mitsuya’s head turned side to side like a deer before a smile crawled onto his pink lips once he spotted Draken.

Mitsuya walked over to the two of you after excusing himself from the conversation “Baby, why don’t you tell Mitsuya what you told me?” Draken said glancing down at you and then back at his best friend whose lavender gaze traveled to your form waiting for you to talk. “Well…I thought that since you and Kenny both have dragon tattoos, you both should have a party for the new lunar year.” You said as loud as you could manage without anyone out of the conversation hearing. Mitsuya’s eyes showed intrigue and a bit of confusion.

He picked up on your demeanor. How you looked at him, the way you leaned into Draken with your legs pressed against each other. Mitsuya couldn’t describe it at all but he just knew…something was going on with you but he wasn’t sure what it was just yet. You pushed yourself off Draken and then trodded over to the black and purple-haired male. You pressed your hand on his right temple, running your hands through his hair “Yours is on this side isn’t it?” You questioned blinking at Mitsuya who grinned at your actions. Mitsuya looked toward Draken as if asking if this was alright or not but when he saw the identical grin on his friend’s face, he knew that this was okay. More than okay.

“Yeah.” Mitsuya replied simply and you smiled at him before going to sip at your cup once more but Mitsuya’s hand went to the cup preventing you from drinking the liquid inside of the cup “Think you’ve had enough princess. We want you to at least stay standing.” The man said with a small chuckle and Draken laughed too but he was different. Mitsuyas was a laugh to lighten the mood despite that not being needed whilst Draken’s was malicious as if there was a hidden dirty joke in that sentence. There wasn’t but it could’ve been.

Draken’s hand snaked down to your bottom just letting his large palm rest there. “Well, we want you standing before the party.”

You and the two guys wasted no time at all hoping in Draken’s car and going to your shared apartment. They didn’t want their girl to sit there being so needy all night, did they? “Ah, Kenny.” You moaned into Draken’s ear as his cock stretched you out but he wasn’t moving. It bothered you so much but you’d get what you wanted just as soon as Mitsuya did.

“Don’t forget about me, princess,” Mitsuya said coming up from behind you and placing his cold hands on your bare shoulders while his chest pressed against your back, you whimpered at his touch but nodded. One of Mitsuya’s hands wandered down to your cunt which was being split open by Draken’s fat cock and he began to draw circles onto your clit making your back arch away from Mitsuya and Draken’s large hands held onto your torso to stop you from collapsing onto him “Ever fucked her in here?” Mitsuya asked bringing his other hand down to gently grope at your ass.

“Nah, she’s too sensitive for that,” Draken said pecking your lips lightly as you moaned submissively in a low voice and Mitsuya beamed delivering a light slap to your clit before allowing Draken’s fingers to replace his “Yeah, you’ll probably split her in half. I’ll be gentle don’t worry.” Mitsuya cooed into your ear before pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear making a shiver run down your spine. You didn’t respond and just whined again pressing your butt against his pelvis.

Mitsuya’s hands went to your ass and he spread your cheeks revealing your untouched hole. He spat on his fingers before rubbing it all over your whole and dipping his fingers inside making your body jolt. The tip of his rock-hard cock then pressed against the hole, he didn’t push it in but it just sat there pressing against it lightly. When he gently began to push inside; your whimpers grew louder “Sh, sh, sh…I got you, princess.” He muttered soothingly as Draken moved his hips just a bit to try and distract you from the pain of being used in a different hole. Draken has always wanted to fuck you there but you could barely keep yourself together with him inside of your pussy; always complaining about how he was splitting you open when not even his whole cock was pushed inside of you. He knew that he couldn’t do anal with you because he didn’t want to see you cry but Mitsuya was just a bit smaller than him and less girthy so it’d hurt less if it were him. It’d also get you more comfortable with someone in there so then he could try.

Everyone’s winning with this night. It was…just going to take you a little pain for you to get your trophy.

Draken brought his other hand up to your face cupping your cheek as tears began to prick at your eyes “It’s okay, just relax.” He told you running his thumbprint over your cheek after brushing away the tears from your eyes “‘M trying…just so full.” You muttered feeling Mitsuya push in more and more until he couldn’t and bottomed out. He pressed gentle kisses behind your ear “Wanna adjust or want me to move?” He knew it’d be best for you to just sit there for a bit and get used to the feeling but he wanted to ask you first, it was your body after all. This is why Draken liked the idea of Mitsuya being the one to join the two of you. He was considerate of how other people felt whether or not he knew better than them. So kind…

“Mitsuya asked you a question baby,” Draken said as you tried to find your words, your brain already turning to mush. “I…I wanna move.” You muttered letting out a breath as Draken rubbed away the tears that were threatening to spill out of your eyes. Mitsuya’s chest pressed against your back as his hands moved to wander all over your body, gently brushing over your tits and his fingertips tickling your neck until they found their place on your pelvis. Mitsuya slowly began to move in and out of your ass that was getting extremely tight around him, he hissed as he rose from your skin making you shudder from the new angle. “Relax for me, baby,” Draken said continuing to circle your clit, going a bit faster so you could loosen up around Mitsuya.

“Ha…” You mewled as Mitsuya’s subtle movements made you grind against Draken who was moving his hips around. You sighed as you loosened around Mitsuya finally allowing him to take a breath, he swore you were going to end up cutting his dick off. Mitsuya’s pace slowly grew faster as his eyes fixated on your back and how it arched because of the penetration and he grinned, reaching his hand to run his fingers down your spine making your back curve into a deeper half-moon.

“Kenny…move please.” You mumbled to your black-haired boyfriend as your nails dug into his bare shoulders “Gimmie a kiss first.” Draken said with a playful smile on his face, you pouted at his demand letting out small whimpers because he wasn’t giving you what you wanted “Be a good girl, babydoll.” Mitsuya whispered into your ear and you let out small hopeless moans at that before pressing your lips to your boyfriends who swallowed your mewls and moans. As you and Draken kissed messily, he grabbed onto your torso, his hands were just above Mitsuya’s skinnier and smaller ones, and he began to thrust up into you hitting your cervix. Mitsuya’s hand that was once on your back snuck its way up to the front of your neck and he wrapped his fingers around it as you breathed heavily.

Mitsuya’s hips slapped into your ass as his pace sped up, his rhythm matched Draken’s but he was going faster. His pink lips put gentle smooches behind your ear to your cheek as you moaned in Draken’s mouth, unable to make your pathetic sounds audible. The kiss was incredibly sloppy. It was open-mouthed and drool was spilling from your mouths and running down your faces, suction noises and occasional moans were coming from the both of you which just made Mitsuya fuck into you harder enjoying how pretty you sounded. “You’re so filthy babydoll…so pretty too.” The purple-eyed male cooed to you, his eyes drifting over your shoulder to how Draken’s cock was easily disappearing and reappearing.

Draken’s cock stretched you out like it always did as he continued to fuck up into you, moving his hips once again to change the angle so he could hit your g-spot. You felt every vein rubbing against the ridges of your fleshy walls as his mushroom tip rammed into your sweet spot “Feel so good ‘round me baby.” The Ryuguji male said breaking the kiss and watching you with lidded eyes as you bounced up and down with your tongue lolling out, his eyes shifted to his friend who was losing himself in the deep depths of your and his own pleasure.

“Such a nice gift…” Draken said grabbing at one of your tits roughly and your body trembled at his additional touch of pleasure “Taka! Feels so good, want more!” You shouted grabbing hold of the other boob that was being neglected and squeezing it tightly. Mitsuya would never say this, especially not to your face, hell he was even feeling bad thinking about it but you were such a slutty girl…he loved it though. You wanted so much more of him despite having two dicks being shoved inside of both your holes.

Draken grinned at his friend “Give ‘er what she wants, huh? She ain’t gonna stop begging until you do.” He said pinching your nipple making you shout “Kenny! Bein’ mean…” Your complaints were ignored as Mitsuya had a matching grin to his dragon twin. His fingers tightened around your neck and he began to rapidly fuck into your recently deflowered hole, his bony pelvis and hips were probably going to be bruised at the end of this. “Ugh! S-So good…!” You moaned uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm coming extremely quickly.

It was gonna hit you like a fucking bus. Coming out of nowhere and coming quickly.

“Ah! Cumming! ‘M cummin! Cum with me please, please, want it so bad!” Your moans were quick and all in one breath as your mouth opened into a wide ‘O’ releasing whorish and high-pitched moans “Go ahead, we’re right behind you.” Draken said with a strained grunt as his pace quicked, his rhythm still matched with his friend’s despite this. You let your orgasm come over you as you breathed heavily and sharply as if it was your last breath on earth and it truly felt like it.

You came all over Draken as you yelped and just like he said, he was right behind you, releasing himself all in your warm hole painting the plush walls in a translucent white liquid “Shit…can I cum in?” Mitsuya asked putting his forehead on your shoulder while rutting into your ass and you nodded with a hum tiredly, Mitsuya didn’t waste a single millisecond to burst into your ass copying draken’s actions in dirting your hole and making an absolute mess of it “Wanna stay inside for a little bit…Can I?” The male behind you asked and your heart fluttered at how kind he sounded, you nodded as you collapsed onto Draken’s chest all sweaty and fucked out.

Mitsuya was really the perfect person to be with you and Draken…you guys should do this more.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[aliaology]

DOROTHEA

summary: jack and luke talking about their older sister, who they’ll forever cherish even if shes all the way in vancouver with quinn. their talk brings up memories that will forever be theirs.

almost a sequel of my “never grow up” fic 🤍

hey dorothea, do you ever stop and think about me?

growing up, jack always looked up to big siblings. each holding a special place in his heart. but both of them we’re different. quinn was the one he went to about hockey, girls, and school. y/n was the one he went to for almost everything else.

maybe it was because of how she was always overprotective of him, quinn and luke. he felt closest to her. it was clear she was the favorite, for each brother.

“do you think y/n thinks about us a lot?” luke asked when she went off to college. jack gave luke a look. “of course she does, moron. it’s not like she could forget us.”

luke shrugged. “i just miss her.”

when we were younger, down in the park, honey making a lark of the misery.

“do you think y/n stops to think about us? like— do you think she sees something like the color red and think about us?” luke asked, sitting next to jack.

jack held a picture frame of him, luke, quinn and her on her highschool graduation day.

“maybe not that much— but i like to think she does.” jacks eyes flickered to luke then back to the picture.

luke let out a sigh. “do you remember the summer before she went to college? almost every other day she would take us to the park to just, forget. forget that she would be leaving.”

jack quietly laughed. “i can’t forget that. highlight of my summer, along with you tripping every time you climbed the rock wall and fell”

luke slapped his brothers arm. “fuck off”

you got shiny new friends since you left town. a tiny screens the only place i see you now. and i got nothing but well wishes for you.

jacks shoulders moved along with his laughter. then it went quiet. “i miss her. i hate that we only see her through a tiny screen.” he spoke.

“at least we can still see her. im jealous of quinn though.” luke added.

jack shrugged. “i am but im not. we got her for a few years, it was his turn now.”

“yeah— but permanently.” luke told.

the two stopped talking. looking at the picture. their older sister smiling happily at the camera with her arms wrapped around jack and luke. quinn stood on the end, arm wrapped around jack.

she stuck out like a sore thumb in the picture. her bright blue graduation gown and bright blue cap was a huge contrast to the mix of whites, blacks, reds and greens the boys wore.

along with her height. the heels she wore made her tower over the boys.

hey dorothea, do you ever stop and think about me? when it was calmer, skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes.

laughter flooded through the quiet park. heels clicked against the sidewalk in a fast pace along with three other sets of feet running behind.

“moms so gonna kill you, sissy!” luke laughed.

you hunched over, hands on your knees as you caught your breath. luke leaned onto you, trying to catch his breath as jack and quinn stifled their laughs.

“she spent so much on this dress, and these damn— heels!” you spoke, struggling to get them off.

“not to mention the ticket!” jack added, grabbing your hand to help you stay steady as you took off the heels.

“i still don’t understand why you ditched, and why you dragged us along” quinn spoke.

“if a hughes goes down, we all do” you gave a toothy grin.

jack smiled softly as he helped you out. luke held your side, stabilizing you so you could get the heel off.

your long green dress clung to your body. the necklace you wore made its way into jacks pocket and was replaced with the necklace he got you for your birthday.

your ‘pearl’ bracelet was replaced with the bracelet luke made. and your ‘pearl’ ring was replaced with the ring quinn gave you. every nice piece of jewelry was replaced with one that actually meant something to you, whether they were pretty or not. (cough lukes beaded bracelet)

you pulled the pins out of your hair, along with the fake pearls and diamonds. you took the long clip that held your hair, out and shook your head.

“thank god im out of that. i love mom but god it felt like she was preparing me for a pageant.” you laughed.

in that moment, all brothers adored you. adored how you clearly cared for them. “lets head home now” you smiled.

but its never too late to come back to my side, the stars in your eyes shined brighter in tupelo. and if you’re ever tired for being known for who you know, you know you’ll always know me.

jackhughes

liked by ynhughes, lhughes_06 and 362,726 others

jackhughes vancouver may be fun, but i miss you, so come back.

tagged: ynhughes

comments

ynhughes i miss u more kid ☹️❤️

jackhughes so come back!

ynhughes its not that easy babes

jackhughes so make it easy lol

user14 im sobbing bring y/n back

user17 come back y/n jacky needs u

user97 BRING THE GANG BACK TOGETHER 😭😭

_quinnhughes i finally get my sister time and you want her back?

jackhughes yeah 😁😁

_quinnhughes gtfo

lhughes_06 this is true, i agree

jackhughes uh yeah id hope so

ynhughes guys pls 😞😞

user61 this is so 😭😭😭😭

trevorzegras bring hot stuff back!!!

jackhughes shes five years older than you, give it a rest 😒😒😒

trevorzegras never back down never what?

colecaulfied NEVER GIVE UP 😱😱😱😱

user73 i miss the hughes siblings together

user15 maybe vancouver will be good for her. maybe she’ll find a boyfriend

trevorzegras NO.

user82 trevor i love u 🥰

user27 i feel like any sad taylor song about growing up or even her friends like dorothea, could relate to them and y/n

tags: (perm) @hockeyboysarehot (just ask if you’d like perm tags <3 )

[spicycinnabun]

Good Omega

written with @batty4steddie for day 7 of @steddie-week! we used prompt ‘free space’ which we chose to fill in with rockstar!steddie and omegaverse. 🤘

wc: 19k+ ⋆ rated: e ⋆ tags: a/b/o dynamics, band au, friends to lovers, omega!eddie, alpha!steve, praise kink ⋆ tw: implied past sa, negative self-talk, smut ⋆ read on ao3

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎸✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Damn it!”

Eddie glanced up. He leaned away from the mirror where he had been carefully smudging smoky black along his eyes. He spun around on his stool. “What ails thee, Sir Gareth?”

“My AntiScent,” Gareth answered, putting his head in his hands. “I fucking ran out. I thought I still had some left.”

Ah.

Eddie stood and walked over to the red leather sofa. With his mammoth spiked platforms, he towered over the other omega.

“Been there.” Eddie placed a hand on Gareth’s shoulder and squeezed it, briefly scent-marking him to try and dissipate some of the distressed stink he was giving off.

Over time, they’d developed a sort of familial relationship as the only two omegas in the band. Eddie had gained the little brother he’d never had, and Gareth had gained a hot mess older brother who helped him survive the Alpha-dominated entertainment industry.

Eddie went back to his station and grabbed his kit, digging through it. “Fret not. You can use mine.”

“You sure?” Gareth asked, lifting his head hopefully. “Don’t you need them?”

Eddie tossed him the box. “Nah, not my first rodeo without ‘em.”

It was actually a relief. Eddie hated wearing blockers, which they all knew since he was frequently bitching about it. The closer he was to his cycle, the more of them he needed to keep his scent contained. They itched like a motherfucker and made him feel contained. It was like wearing a prison, like chains with locks wrapped tightly around his body—and not the fun, kinky kind.

While Gareth peeled and stuck on the patches, Eddie finished getting ready with a bit more pep in his step, fogging the room in a cloud of hairspray. 

The stage manager popped her head in to tell them they’d be ready for them in about half an hour. Eddie groaned, spinning in place and vibrating with pre-show energy. He wanted to go now.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Eddie’s scent was clouding the dressing room unexpectedly when Steve walked in. Usually, hairspray was the only thing he could smell. Eddie hadn’t put on his blockers yet.  

Steve’s mouth suddenly became very dry. He hadn’t talked much that day, trying to preserve his voice as best he could before the show.

He grabbed a water from the mini-fridge to hydrate before trying to settle on the couch. He couldn’t sit comfortably in his jeans, so he lounged back carefully in hopes he wouldn’t pop a button. They weren’t leaving much to the imagination. Everyone could see the outline of his cock and knot in them.

Steve had gone all out on his outfit for their last show. With his short-sleeved, spandex gold button-up that was almost completely open, he was displaying an impressive amount of belly and chest hair, even for an Alpha.

He hadn’t eaten much, either. His pants were way too tight to handle any food. It certainly didn’t ease his hunger with Eddie’s scent filling the room. He smelled like an extremely buttery and spicy Snickerdoodle.

Steve was effectively distracting Eddie from his tantrum of impatience. It was their last show of the tour, so they’d all done just a little bit more than usual. They had to say goodbye with a bang. Always did. Steve was certainly gussied up. He was glistening in metallic gold. Fuck, he looked delicious.

“I said it already, but I’ll say it again: really love that color on you, sweetheart,” Eddie said, flopping over the arm of the sofa dramatically, his head landing directly in Steve’s lap as his legs kicked in the air. He looked up, grinning with all his teeth. “You look like a gold medal.”

It was difficult not to close his eyes and inhale deeply, not to pull Steve’s head down and thrust that sweet mouth onto his. Steve was half a week away from rut, just like Eddie was from his heat, and he could feel it thrumming between them like a live wire.

Eddie had lots of practice controlling himself around Steve and his ludicrously tempting scent. Sometimes—most times—Eddie swore it was made for his nose. Steve, his straight Alpha bandmate and best friend. Friend only.

Years of playing together, touring together, and long nights sleeping on the bus in their bunks only a few inches away from each other taunted him. Eddie had heard Steve jerk off more times than he could count. Had secretly gotten off with him and felt ashamed in the morning. Even more ashamed the time he’d called out Steve’s name with a one-night stand who definitely hadn’t been named Steve. (After that, he'd asked his partners to gag him.)

Steve knew Eddie’s scent well but didn’t get to fully experience it often. It was going to be all over him now. He was used to Eddie’s antics and closeness. He always enjoyed it. He loved omegas; they were so sweet, and they loved being close to Alphas, too. It truly hurt their feelings when Alphas weren’t receptive to their affections.

It was easy being friends with Eddie. He was encouraging and thoughtful, and he always made Steve feel good. Hearing the compliment made him smile really big. He was getting pumped.

Steve had only ever had one other male omega friend in his life: Tommy. He’d fallen in love with Steve, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been mutual, and they’d ended their friendship for good during their senior year of high school.

Steve had only officially met Eddie when he’d decided to audition for his band. He’d seen The Mind Flayer at The Hideout dozens of times before he’d seen their flier looking for a lead singer. They had been purely heavy metal and instrumental until Steve had joined. He’d always thought about singing, but it wasn’t something his parents—well, his dad—had encouraged.

Steve and Eddie had hit it off right away. Eddie was passionate about music and sharing his opinions. Even their clashes created beautiful musical harmony. Steve pushed slower songs with better beats and even some piano ballads, and Eddie pushed him to be louder, more emotional, and to really lose himself in the lyrics.

Steve didn’t care that Eddie was an omega. He was so talented with the guitar and had written some gorgeous songs. Steve was in awe of his style and energy.

Every fiber of Steve’s being had wanted to be a part of the band. He’d had a good feeling about it and never could have dreamt of the places it would eventually take them outside of their small town.

It truly blew his mind how successful they’d become, graduating from a van and bus to finally flying from show to show and staying in hotels. It had become so much fucking fun to sing his heart out and fool around on stage with his best friend.

Eddie turned his face into Steve’s bare stomach, nipping at his belly button with a playful growl. Steve wouldn’t question shit like that. Nuzzling, hugging, cuddling, wrapping himself around Steve like a snake—he was used to Eddie’s jokes and flirtations. Used to Eddie teasing him and scenting him and almost pushing their friendship into friends with benefits territory.

Eddie always toyed with the line, and it was made easy by the demands of their fans. The fans loved seeing him all over Steve—went absolutely bonkers for it—and Eddie was too happy to oblige. Steve always played along, too. He was a good sport and secure in his skin. The most tolerant straight man Eddie had ever met.

And good goddamn, he could act. He always made it feel real. It fucked with Eddie’s head and raging hormones. It was a constant torture, but that was the nature of their relationship, and Eddie was attached. He didn’t know what he was going to do when it ended.

Because it was going to end eventually. Steve wouldn’t be unmated forever. He would find his omega. Eddie always backed off when Steve had a girlfriend. Mysteriously, none of them lasted more than a couple months. Eddie figured it was because of their lifestyle. They were frequently on the road, making relationships long-distance and difficult.

But once Steve officially courted an omega, his and Eddie’s connection would change forever.

Steve was already feeling butterflies for their impending performance. The bites made him squirm a little and suck in. It felt like he was being scented, and Eddie’s tiny growls sounded possessive.

“My mouth is too empty,” Eddie told Steve. Whined, really. “We got candy? Cigarette?” Eddie made no move to get either of those things himself. He knew Steve would take care of him. He pouted pathetically. “Help.”

Steve pushed Eddie’s hair back and bit his lip. Usually, when Eddie’s mouth was empty, he talked a lot or treated Steve like a snack—like he was doing now. Steve slipped out from under him. “‘Course we got candy, Eddie bear. Gummy bears are on our rider, just for you. Let me grab them.”

Steve felt a bit better standing up and being of service to the omega. He lightly caressed his scent gland as he walked over to the treats. He had peanut M&M’s waiting for himself but knew better than to eat them before the show. He was jealous that Eddie could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, and it never showed. He had the sluttiest little waist. Steve shook his head to rid the thought and tossed the candy to Eddie.

“Thanks.” Eddie caught the bag and opened it with his teeth, pouring an indecent amount of bears into his mouth.

As he stared up at the popcorn ceiling and noshed, his mind couldn’t help but betray him and conjure up a scenario where Steve had answered differently and occupied his mouth with something else.

Steve looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re gonna doll me up a little, aren’t you, with the eye stuff?”

Eddie jumped to his feet, gummy bears scattering across the floor. Oops. He set the bag down on the arm of the sofa. “Of course I am,” he answered with the confidence of a man who had not just been daydreaming about sucking his best friend’s dick two seconds ago.

Eddie usually helped Steve with his stage make-up. While the Alpha was an amazingly talented vocalist, his cosmetic skills were worse than a face painter at a pup’s birthday party.

Eddie knew more than any guy probably should have about makeup. In high school, he had been intensely into Dungeons and Dragons, which sometimes required costuming. Also, one of his close friends had been a cheerleader who had educated him on a lot of things—not limited to beauty and skincare—after she found out what a hopeless homosexual he was.

Steve perched on the dressing room’s stool, waiting patiently for Eddie to paint him up. The last time he’d tried putting on makeup himself, Eddie had laughed, which had bruised his ego, and then there had barely been any time for him to fix it before they’d gone on. He’d vowed never to do it himself again.

Eddie dug through his kit for his eyeshadow palette and popped it open, dabbing his thumb in glittering gold powder and blowing off the excess. “Close, please,” he requested.

It was hard for Steve to close his eyes because Eddie was so fucking pretty. Steve wanted to keep looking, but he obeyed the omega. Steve trusted Eddie. He always improved the way Steve looked, whether it was with makeup or outfit suggestions. Eddie’s dark aesthetic enhanced his preppy style, making him at least look more edgy. Eddie had that ethereal omega beauty most male omegas didn’t have. Truly, Steve never wanted to stop looking at him once he got started.

Eddie gently swiped his thumb along Steve’s eyelids and continued until the color blended to his satisfaction. “Done.”

Steve’s eyelashes fluttered open slowly, meeting beautiful doe eyes staring back at him. He smiled at Eddie sweetly.

Eddie touched Steve’s chin and turned his head for him so he could see the results in the mirror. “Look at that razzle dazzle.”

Steve blushed. Getting painted up was feeling way more intimate than it usually did.

Eddie grinned. “See?” He grabbed the same eye pencil he’d used earlier. Some liner would really make Steve’s eyes pop on stage. “Hold onto me so you stay still for this,” he advised. He had to lean in extra close to do this part, or he’d completely fuck up the lines.

Steve laughed at the instructions but quickly steadied himself and held onto Eddie’s hips. Steve rubbed them when he was finished as a thank you. Eddie’s hip bones were out of this world. “Thanks for making me half as pretty as you.”

Eddie laughed. Leave it to Steve to compliment Eddie when they both knew Steve was the better looking one. He was a gentlealpha for stroking Eddie’s delicate omega ego like that. “Stevie, you know better than anyone that beneath all the smoke and mirrors, there’s nothing but an ugly little rat of a man under here. You’re the beauty; I’m the freak.”

Steve made a face like he always did when Eddie insulted himself. He didn’t like it. He didn't think Eddie was ugly or resembled a rat. Regardless, he smiled a bit at the flattering remark. It made his chest puff out in the typical Alpha’s ego is successfully stroked fashion. 

He let go of Eddie but couldn’t withhold another stronger urge to give affection. As Steve stood up, he leaned in and nuzzled the hell out of the omega. It was an actual scenting, like the ones he reserved for his girlfriends. The breathy noise Eddie made in response and the jackrabbit kick of his heart confused Steve’s brain a little. He pulled back slowly, reluctantly.

The rest of the band shuffled into the room, interrupting them. Steve quickly checked his reflection again. Luckily, he hadn’t messed up what Eddie had just done, thanks to his big nose doing the brunt of the nuzzling.

They began their pre-show group huddle, and Steve gave them a speech reminiscent of his basketball and swim team championships. Gareth and Jeff’s eyes started to glaze over at the sports analogies.

It was dragging on a little, so Eddie slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and cheerfully interrupted, “Boys, let’s rock and roll!”

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There was nothing like the roar of the crowd, the sea of excited faces waiting just for them, chanting their name as they ran out. Eddie would never get tired of hearing that.

The confetti cannons burst at the start of their first song, and Eddie’s blood sang along with Steve's.

By the middle of their set, Eddie had lost his shirt and shoes, but he was still getting service from Harrington, who kept gyrating his hips in Eddie’s direction and, at one point, had grabbed Eddie’s nipple ring with his teeth.

Near the end of the set, Eddie was so sweaty he could probably bellyflop and glide down the stage like a Slip ’N Slide.

There was a break in their current song, about forty-five seconds of instrumentals, and no vocals: Eddie’s guitar solo.

Steve took ten seconds to play the crowd, going to the edge of the stage and touching the hands of star-struck fans. One girl nearly fainted, her friends catching her when her knees buckled.

Eddie watched, mouthing, “Your majesty!” when Steve turned around. He stuck out his tongue, bratty.

It had its intended effect. Steve crossed the stage and got right up in Eddie’s space. He wrapped himself around Eddie, draping himself along Eddie’s back like a cape. One of his big hands, warm and alive and buzzing from adrenaline and holding the mic, splayed across his abs. (Eddie had those now. Actual abs.) Eddie’s stomach jumped a little, and he felt the vibration of Steve’s laugh, his breath hot against Eddie’s scent gland.

Then, Steve actually had the balls to press his lips against Eddie’s skin and drag his tongue up the side of Eddie’s neck.

That was new for Eddie—and everyone else. The crowd went wild. The girls screamed so deafeningly loud it almost drowned out Eddie’s guitar. Probably a good thing because he fumbled a note and nearly forgot where he was.

Steve laughed again. That absolute fucker. Steve couldn’t have the upper hand. Unacceptable. And the crowd clearly wanted more, more, more. (Just like Eddie wanted more, more, more. Off the stage, away from the audience, alone in their hotel room, on the bed—maybe cuffed to the bedpost.)

Eddie relaxed, tipping his head back onto Steve’s shoulder as his fingers sped up, hammering the frets. He panted out his breaths and pushed his sweaty body back against Steve’s, so Steve was forced to take his weight and hold him tighter. “Two can play at this game,” he hissed playfully.

Because he thought that was what this was. Steve was just playing for the fans, like always. They were competing over who could push this the farthest.

But then Steve looked down at him with something dark and inscrutable in his eyes, something not so familiar that made Eddie’s stomach swoop hard, and then he was tilting Eddie’s chin up and—

They were kissing. Eddie hit the last note on his guitar, and it rang out, his pulse rushing in his ears, his lips moving on their own to kiss Steve back. Too eagerly, too seriously to laugh off to everyone later as a joke, and he let go of his guitar, and it hung there while he reached up to grab Steve’s face and his hair that was still somehow perfectly styled, messing it thoroughly as Steve’s tongue ravaged his mouth.

That was new, too. They'd never kissed each other before. They'd gotten extremely close more than a few times, but like this, for real? No.

The crowd was roaring, but the world around Eddie barely existed until Steve suddenly pulled away and ran back to the mic stand, straddling it, singing to the crowd in a deep, breathy tone. Eddie felt dizzy.

Gareth shot him a look, subtly nodding to Eddie’s limp guitar, and Eddie quickly got with the program again—a huge, fake smirk pasted on that he hoped was convincing. Fuck.

Panicking a little and needing something to obliterate his sudden manic horniness and confusion, Eddie thought, What better way to do that than to dive into a crowd of smelly, sweaty people? Insta-boner killer and slick stopper.

Barb, Mind Flayer’s manager, was going to kill him for this.

Letting out a war cry, Eddie ran towards the edge of the stage and jumped, spread eagle.

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The second they stepped on stage, Steve felt on fire with adrenaline. Goosebumps erupted over his arms when Eddie strummed the first note that kicked off the show.

Steve shot a sultry look in Eddie’s direction as he grabbed the mic and hit his cue. It wasn’t lost on him that what really got the girls and guys going was him and Eddie. Steve shared the spotlight with him. Alphas fawned over Eddie, and the omegas and betas fawned over him. When they played it up with each other, everyone went wild.

It started innocently enough. Embracing Eddie’s body while he played his guitar solo. Eddie losing his platform shoes made him slightly shorter than Steve, and being shirtless made it easy for Steve’s hand to graze Eddie’s hot, sweaty, and toned stomach. His mouth had gone dry again, he was dying for a taste.

Eddie’s scent had been clouding Steve’s mind since he’d walked into the dressing room. Intoxicated, Steve was high off Eddie. He was going feral for him. The second his lips touched Eddie’s skin, Steve knew he was going to scent him much harder than he had earlier. He gave Eddie’s scent gland a slow, rough lick. He could feel the effect immediately. His pupils blew like he’d just consumed the most delicious drug.

He laughed because he was in shock at himself for doing that. The crowd's reaction was one of approval, he could only assume, by the deafening screams.

Eddie leaned back against him while he continued to skillfully play the guitar. Steve had no other choice than to stand there and get rubbed against by the smooth leather covering Eddie’s ass. The payback was sweet; Eddie knew exactly what he was doing to Steve. The rough material of his jeans naturally created a delicious amount of friction between them.

When Eddie looked up at him, Steve guided Eddie’s chin towards him and kissed him. They’d gotten close to kissing a couple of times, but at the last second, one of them would smile or pull back. Always playing, always teasing. This time, it really happened.

Steve knew better than to scent an omega without explicit permission, but his hormones were absolutely raging, and they both consensually scented each other in the dressing room. The way Eddie kissed him back was with enough vigor that Steve felt it in his bones. Eddie’s reaction made him feel like what he had done wasn’t wrong. Steve did his best to let go and not suppress his urges anymore. He was burning up and melting.

Why had he waited so long to…?

Oh fuck, the end of Eddie’s guitar solo was his cue to get back on the mic. While Steve wished it was just the two of them on stage, he had to finish the show.

He caught his breath while he pressed the mic back into the stand. When he leaned in to sing the last line, his Alpha voice simmered just below the surface.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and Eddie’s guitar was thrust into his possession. With his baby in safe hands, Eddie took a graceful nosedive off the mother fucking stage. He was quickly surfing his way through the crowd.

All Steve could do was stand there while a sea of security guards hustled to grab the omega before he got eaten alive. Steve felt a white-hot rage he’d never experienced before as Eddie’s body got violated by their fans.

God damn it, Eddie was his.

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The fans were about as enthusiastic to get their paws on him as Eddie had expected. At first, it was actually pretty fucking fun, looking up at the metal rafters and travelling on an ocean of different palms.

Then, it got a little less fun. The touches got more aggressive—grabbing, squeezing, and tearing at his pants. All of his rings and jewelry were taken. He almost fell to the floor a few times. Somebody yanked out a whole handful of his hair and made him squeal. He was like a gangly zebra in a pack of hungry lions.

He’d never admit it, but he was starting to feel just a little bit frightened. By the time security managed to wrangle him back onto the stage, he was howling with laughter, although around ninety percent of it was relief. “What a fucking ride!”

The rest of the band were waiting in the wings. Only Jeff seemed amused. “Dude, that was insane.”

Eddie’s pants hadn’t come all the way off, but it was a damn near thing. The top of his ass cheeks and pubic hair were on full display. Steve moved to shield Eddie’s body from prying eyes. “I got him,” Steve told their main security guard.

Eddie swallowed his tongue when Steve stepped in. He wondered if Steve even realized he’d used his Alpha voice on Reggie.

Then, Steve pulled up what was left of Eddie’s pants, making him squeak, and started herding him back to the dressing room.  

“Steve,” Eddie said, not knowing whether to laugh more, feel embarrassed or get irritated. He felt like a naughty pup. And why was it also making him kinda horny again? Ugh, hormones. “I know you're trying to protect my modesty here, but it’s nothing a million people haven’t seen already.”

The paps had caught him with his clothes more than a few times in the past. Skinny dipping, drunkenly mooning someone, the list went on.

The dressing room door closed behind them, hushing most of the noise. Eddie got steamrolled by Steve’s scent. Usually, he smelled comforting, like a warm chocolate chip muffin. Now, that muffin was incredibly burnt.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, his voice naturally dropping to something lower and softer. Without the laces, his pants were a losing battle. When Steve let go, Eddie didn't bother to pull them back up again. Steve was seething. His baseline low rumble was currently a loud, angry growl emitting from his throat. No, Steve wasn’t okay. He couldn’t even smell Eddie anymore. His warm, buttery cinnamon cookie scent was gone, and any trace of his own scent on Eddie was long gone, too. All of it was buried under at least a hundred different scents. They all were flooding Steve’s sensitive nose. The concoction made his stomach hurt and his skin crawl. Eddie took that as a no. Steve looked pissed. Smelled pissed. Sounded pissed. They were all probably pissed that he’d ended the show abruptly like that. It must’ve just seemed like he wanted the attention—which, granted, wasn’t untrue because he loved attention even at the worst of times, but… “I didn’t mean to ruin the show.” “I don’t care about the show,” Steve replied. It didn’t feel like it was Eddie’s modesty that he was protecting. It was Eddie who Steve was trying to protect, albeit too late. Eddie had been so careless it made Steve sick to think about what could’ve happened. He was completely disheveled.

“You reek,” Steve blurted out, unable to hold back his emotion or muster any tact.

Eddie almost flinched. It was small—a barely noticeable hunching of his shoulders. Steve had never told him he’d smelled bad before, but of course he did after so many people had marked him.

It wasn’t like Eddie enjoyed having all their scents on him. It felt pretty repulsive, but doing what he did had given him something he’d needed. Being passed around like a toy by the crowd had bitch slapped Eddie back into reality. Steve hadn’t been scenting him for real. That kiss hadn’t been real. It had only been for show, no matter how much it had felt like Steve had wanted him in the moment.

Steve took his shirt off and threw it on the floor. He wasn’t planning on it but wasn’t above throwing a hissy fit. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, even though he felt like stomping them like a pup who hadn’t gotten the toy he’d wanted. His own scent had turned bitter. He knew it. What had he scented Eddie for? Why had he kissed him? Steve swallowed. He knew why he’d done it, and it hurt that it didn’t seem to mean anything to Eddie. Eddie seemed like he was okay—more than okay. He was acting like he’d had such a thrill and that it had been so much fun.

Steve was close to his rut, so it made sense he would be scentsitive and irritable, especially since he had to share a room with Eddie and would be sleeping near him. Maybe his rut was coming sooner than they thought.

Steve finally looked directly at Eddie, and that was when he noticed. “Fuck. You’re bleeding.” “I’m fine, Stevie,” Eddie said, giving the Alpha a smile that felt uncomfortable on his face. “I can barely feel anything. My scalp is just weeping because it’s gonna have to do some work to regrow that.”

Steve swallowed his pride, uncrossed his arms and went over to get a better look at Eddie’s head. He made a soft noise when he saw Eddie’s hair was just gone in one spot. Granted, the man had a lot of hair, so it could easily be hidden, but it still looked bad. He’d been wounded. “That’s gotta hurt. We gotta get you cleaned up, man.”

Some bruises were forming on Eddie’s alabaster skin, too, and Steve noticed all his accessories were gone. Eddie’s favorite belt, bracelets and rings.

Any other time, Eddie would have squeezed Steve’s shoulders to calm him, but it was clear that his touch would only make things worse right now. Steve looked so tense. He was shirtless. Steam was practically rolling off of him, and his scent wasn’t easing up. 

While Eddie was calm, crashing after the high of his ridiculous stage dive and body surfing stunt, Steve was just getting hotter and hotter.

Eddie grabbed his sweater from the crushed velvet armchair and pulled it on. The adrenaline started to wear off, making him cool down rapidly, and his hands began to tremble. Whether it was from nicotine withdrawal or the little stunt he’d pulled, or maybe both, Eddie didn’t know.

He realized too late that the sweater wasn’t his but Steve’s, and muttered an apology. Steve’s unburnt scent was embedded into it. Eddie resisted the urge to pluck the neckline up over his nose and hold it there. They borrowed each other’s clothes all the time when they were on the road. He’d have to make sure it got washed before he gave it back.

They only had one more night together before they all parted ways. Eddie was flying to Hawkins to visit Wayne for a few days before returning to his home in West Hollywood to ride out his heat. He didn’t know when he would see Steve again—maybe not until a few weeks later for their post-tour photoshoot and interview with Rolling Stone.

Steve spun in place again. Stopped. Eddie was wearing his yellow sweater. That gave him a tiny bit of relief. He liked Eddie wearing his scent more than he would admit. He also didn’t like it when Eddie was exposed when it wasn’t entirely his choice.

He shook his head. “We should head to the hotel now. I don’t think the afterparty is a good idea tonight, Eddie.”

Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t like his opinion, but he didn’t care.

Eddie glanced at Steve and then away, leaving the Alpha’s side to dig in his bag by the mirror for his jeans. He turned as he removed the tattered leather pants, kicking them into the garbage bin, and only turned to face Steve again once his jeans were zipped and buttoned. “Why isn’t the afterparty a good idea?”

The night was still young, after all. Eddie didn’t really feel like partying, but maybe getting blackout drunk would stop him from climbing into Steve’s bed and begging for more of what had happened on stage, which could very well happen if he stayed in. Eddie knew he’d be having slick dreams for weeks, if not months, of that fucking kiss. His mind already had it on replay. “Don’t think it’s safe. Not this close to your cycle. What if someone from the crowd got the wrong idea and took advantage of you?” Like they could’ve done when you threw yourself into the chaotic audience. Steve wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if something bad had happened to Eddie. Even if it would’ve been his own damn fault. He felt responsible for what had happened, almost like what he’d done had triggered Eddie to do it. Then, actually not being able to do anything to protect him was too much. He could control the situation by saying no to the party. “So, we’re going back to the hotel now.”

Whether you like it or not, Steve thought. He started to gather up his stuff and called for Barb to get them a car.

Eddie wasn’t as careful as an omega should have been, and Steve knew it. It worried him to no end when Eddie would go off to be with some rando after a show. If tonight was any indication of how reckless Eddie could be, Steve couldn’t imagine what else could be pulled and with who. 

Eddie paused, taken aback. They both knew he was an omega who was capable of protecting himself. He could be wildly irresponsible, too, but his self-defence skills were on the same level as an Alpha’s. The response only solidified in Eddie’s mind that Steve was very close to his rut—and for some reason, Steve’s pre-rut instincts were being directed towards Eddie.

He guessed it made sense, considering how close they were. Steve had no other omegas he’d been around as frequently as Eddie lately besides Gareth, but their relationship was more formal.

Eddie didn’t want Steve to come to the afterparty with him if he was going into rut. Forget Eddie; Steve could be taken advantage of. Eddie loved the guy, but he was painfully oblivious about some things.

He also didn’t want Steve to be alone in their hotel room while he went out. Not because Steve could potentially find himself a rut partner and bar Eddie from the room…

…Okay, exactly because of that.

Eddie opened his mouth, but Steve had already moved on from the subject and was trying to move out the door.

“Wait—“ Eddie stopped Steve with a hand to his bare, very furred chest. “You’re going to make the omegas faint if you go out like that.”

Christ, Steve was really warm. And he wasn’t thinking clearly. Eddie quickly let go when he noticed Steve reacting badly. He pulled out a tank top from his duffle and held it out. It was threadbare and soft—not likely to irritate Steve’s skin.

Steve put his hands on his hips and turned around. He didn’t know what to do. He was burning up, so he didn’t want to put the shirt on. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and take the coldest shower he could stand. He dropped his hands and took the top. The scent on the shirt was untainted Eddie, so he wasn’t going to object. Making omegas faint was a thing that had happened, but only a couple of times. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, so Steve complied. Luckily, it was just a tank top, too. He didn’t think he could handle a shirt with sleeves.

“Happy?” he asked Eddie once he pulled it on, magically feeling a little calmer.

Steve looked even sluttier now than he did shirtless, somehow. “Still going to make them faint,” Eddie muttered, stepping into his boots and hiking his bag onto his shoulder. 

Steve heard the quiet comment as he led the way out. It made him smirk, but he knew he didn’t have that effect on Eddie anyway. He’d never make Eddie faint.

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The rest of the band weren’t ready to leave yet and would get a separate car, so they said a quick goodbye.

“See you at the after party?” Jeff asked them, his arm around the shoulders of an omega groupie who was giggling into his neck.

“Maybe,” Eddie hedged.

At the same time, Steve growled, “No,” with enough force to raise Jeff’s eyebrows.

“Alright.” Jeff shrugged, happy to ignore them as the groupie murmured something in his ear.

Steve was deaf to Jeff’s response and blind to the slutty female omega hanging on his arm. He was too busy glaring at Eddie for having said maybe. He had said no and meant it. Neither one of them were going to the after party.

Eddie wrapped his arms around his middle as they exited the theatre, and security escorted them to their waiting car. A few paps got pictures of them despite security’s efforts to shield them.

Steve’s brow softened. Usually, they would huddle close together to make it easier for security to block them, but not this time.

Steve followed Eddie into the car. The smaller space wasn’t helping his nausea from the cacophony of scents still raging.

“You want me to shower in Gareth’s room?” Eddie asked once they were settled in the backseat. To be courteous to Steve’s scentsitivity. Gareth wouldn’t mind.

“No, of course you don’t have to shower in Gareth’s room. You can take the first shower, though.” He’d feel better once Eddie was in the safety of their own room and smelled like himself again. The ride wasn’t tense exactly, but Eddie could feel how much Steve didn’t want to be in the car with him. He was pressed against the door as far away from Eddie as possible. Eddie tried not to wilt in rejection.

Steve rested his hot forehead against the cool window. He felt bad for telling Eddie that he smelled bad, but he was angry, and Eddie really did fucking reek. “Sorry about what I said,” Steve added. “We had a good show. It was fun.”

Eddie was surprised by the apology, but he shook his head. “It’s okay, Stevie,” he answered softly.

He had an incredibly overpowering urge to take off his seatbelt and remove all distance between them. Climb into Steve’s lap and cuddle the motherfucking shit out of him. He held onto the seat instead, knuckles turning white as he resisted.

It stung a little the way Steve sprang out as soon as the car stopped, but Eddie understood.

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“You could have been seriously hurt,” was the first thing Barb said to him as she approached them, leading them into the hotel. “I know you don’t like them, but we have safety protocols for you guys for a reason.”

Steve nodded silently in agreement with her but decided not to pile on as Eddie took the gentle lashings with a hangdog head and a sheepish smile. “I know. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Barb replied, but her glare softened behind her gold-rimmed glasses, and she smiled back at him after a moment. She left them with a compliment. “You did great out there, by the way. Steve, you’ve never sounded better.”

Eddie smiled a little as Steve’s face turned pink under her compliment. “She’s right,” he said.

Barb handed over their room key, and they said goodbye. Steve led the way to the elevator, Eddie trailing behind slightly.

When they entered the room, Steve dropped his bag, popped the button on his jeans, and fell back onto the bed. “Eddie. Shower. Now,” he ordered. He turned over on his side and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “I’m calling room service. Do you want anything?”

The demand from Steve shouldn’t have sent a happy zing up Eddie’s spine, but it did. It made him wonder (probably for the millionth time since they’d met) what Steve’s Alpha voice would feel like. Probably fantastic.

“Yes, Alpha,” he sing-songed, dropping his duffle on his bed and kicking off his boots. “Pick something for me?”

Eddie didn’t feel like deciding what to eat, and Steve knew what he liked. He hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, too focused on prepping for the show. Steve might have fed him a few bites of his sandwich at lunch. He couldn’t remember. It felt like a long time ago.

Steve was still burning up, but the response from the omega made him shiver. He liked being obeyed. “Sure.”

“Thank youuu.”

Eddie went to the bathroom and closed the door. Didn’t bother locking it. His reflection almost made him laugh. No wonder everyone had had such a reaction. His makeup was smeared, and his hair was giving Medusa vibes. Those paparazzi pics were going to be interesting. He looked like he’d gone through a car wash without a car. “Bozo the fucking clown,” he said under his breath.

Even if Steve wasn’t straight, why the hell would he want this?

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Steve was starving. He was craving red meat and potatoes. He knew Eddie would want something lighter, so he ordered him a grilled cheese and the soup of the day. Then he ordered red wine, champagne and cake, too. Just because they weren’t going to the after party, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate.

While Steve wanted to undress, he figured he’d stay decent enough to answer the door. After he hung up the phone, he took off his shoes.

They were pretty high in one of the presidential suites. Their windows had no curtains, which had made sleeping in the night before difficult, but the view was worth it. Steve stood at the large window overlooking the city. He was still in a bit of shock that they were there. He hadn’t become used to the lifestyle or the fame yet.

Eddie’s shower was going on longer than Steve thought it would. He thought he heard Eddie cry out, but when he went to the door and pressed his ear against it, he didn’t hear anything else.

The food arrived pretty quickly, and Steve gave the bellboy a good tip. He poured some wine for himself and sat down at the table. The guy must’ve thought Steve’s mate was in the shower. He scurried around, insisting on dressing the table in a tablecloth. He lit two candles, too, making the room look incredibly romantic. Steve tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary but gave up and just allowed it since he didn’t feel like explaining.

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Now that he was completely down from his showtime high, Eddie felt everything that had been done to him. Every bruise was throbbing, and it would only feel worse in the morning.

His clothes hit the floor a few seconds later, and he stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the dried sweat, makeup, blood and itchy, filthy scents all over him.

He scrubbed hard and thoroughly, suddenly frantic to get clean, to be Eddie again so that Steve would like him again.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed. The shampoo was burning in the spot where he’d lost hair. He quickly rinsed it out, and the water turned pink.

Once every speck of dirt and scent had swirled down the drain, Eddie finally turned off the taps and stepped out into the foggy room.

The dirty towels from that morning were gone, but the towel rack was empty. Hopefully, the maid hadn’t forgotten to give them fresh ones.

Eddie floundered a little, then went to the door, opening it and sticking just his head out. “Steve? Are there towels out there?”

“Uh…” Steve furrowed his brow, confused as to why there weren’t any towels in the bathroom. Their room had been cleaned. Their beds had been made, too.

He got up from the table and looked around, spotting an abundance of towels stacked neatly under the nightstand. Usually, towels by the bed were reserved for heats and ruts. He grabbed two and brought them over to Eddie.

Again, Eddie’s delicious scent hit him, and Steve’s stomach literally growled out loud.

Eddie heard it. Poor guy. Alphas in rut needed an insane amount of protein to feel good enough to function. Their bodies burned through it quickly since they used so much energy fucking people’s brains out, Eddie supposed.

Steve rubbed his stomach. “Ugh, I gotta eat, man.”

“Thanks. Yeah, don’t wait on my account, big boy. Go eat.” Eddie shooed Steve and retreated to the bathroom.

He dried himself, then wrapped one of them around his hips as best he could. The towels Steve gave him weren’t regular-sized, he realized. Had about as much coverage as a loincloth.

Eddie came out and kneeled awkwardly to dig through his suitcase. He wasn’t prepared for the scent that hit his nostrils, either. Steve had flooded the room with Alpha pheromones, and they were getting stronger by the minute. Enough to make him lightheaded.

Steve took the dome off his plate and found the juiciest steak but nearly choked on the first piece when he saw Eddie. Steve averted his gaze slowly, catching a glimpse not so accidentally. He made a happy little noise, and not just about the meat. Eddie’s scent had returned, and Steve could feel a rumble bubbling up in his chest.

Eddie grabbed some comfortable boxers and an old band t-shirt he’d had since he was a teenager. He’d cut it in half during a particularly scorching summer, so it left his midriff nice and cool. He didn’t bother going back to the bathroom to put them on, changing right there.

When he turned around, he noticed Steve sitting at the kitchenette table.

“Oh,” Eddie said, heat flooding his face. He took in the champagne on ice, the soft glow of the candles, the tablecloth. His stomach lurched. Steve looked like he was waiting for a date. “Are you—um, did you invite someone over? Do you need me to go?”

It was strange, considering Steve had been so adamant Eddie return to the hotel with him, but maybe he had called someone while Eddie was in the shower. He had to realize by now that he was going into rut.

“What?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow. “No, and no. I told you I was ordering food for us. They kinda thought it was more of a romantic occasion… but I thought that since we’re not going to the party, we could still celebrate.” Steve felt bad for putting a damper on their last night together for a while. “I know you like the bubbly stuff.”

The little knot that had tied itself in Eddie’s stomach unwound. “That’s thoughtful, A—Steve,” he corrected himself.

One time calling Steve Alpha as a joke was acceptable. Twice in the same hour put him in the danger zone.

Steve flashed him a smile and got up to pull the second chair away from the table so Eddie would sit with him. Steve stopped him before he did, leaning into his space to scent him gently.

He couldn’t resist. Eddie smelled better than the food and looked like a snack in his comfy clothes. Steve had to restrain himself from licking and nipping him. He had food. He didn’t have to devour Eddie…right now, at least.

Eddie didn’t think much of being scented. He accepted it with a head tilt and a relieved sigh that he hid with a breathy laugh. Family and close friends scented each other casually all the time—he took it as a sign he was back in Steve’s good graces.

The Alpha looked much more relaxed. There was even that endearing rumble tickling Eddie’s ears. Steve sometimes did that when he was enjoying himself. The hotel’s chef must have really nailed that steak.

“Are you happy with the choice I made for you?” Steve asked. “If not, I know you’ll like the cake.” Eddie loved sweet things, so Steve knew the cake would do.

Eddie resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Steve and hang onto him like a koala. He lifted the metal dome over his plate instead. Soup and grilled cheese were the second thing he was craving. The first thing wasn’t on the menu. “You always know what I want,” he answered.

Steve was attentive like that. When it came to everything except… well, you know. Nobody on earth knew Eddie better than Steve, not even his only living relative.

Steve was pretty pleased with himself after receiving Eddie’s compliment. It fed his ego perfectly. He reached for the champagne. “You wanna pop it? I know it’s like your favorite part.” He chuckled and handed the bottle to Eddie.

Using his thumbs, Eddie popped the cork on the champagne bottle. They cheered as it foamed over, and Eddie poured them each a glass before sitting in the chair Steve had pulled out for him. “To Mind Flayer?” he suggested. “And another tour success.”

They toasted.

“Are you looking forward to going home and sleeping in your own bed again?” Eddie asked once he had sat down and taken a sip of champagne, trying to ignore the way the candles were making Steve’s eyes look darker than usual. Eddie probably wasn’t going to survive the rest of the night.

Steve sipped from his glass. The liquid was refreshingly cold from being on ice. Steve hadn’t cooled down yet, so he threw back the entire glass to help do that. He wasn’t aware of what was happening to him yet—what Eddie’s proximity and scent were doing to him.

He wasn’t sure how to answer Eddie’s question. “I’m going to miss you.”

Steve felt his lips tingle after he said it. He knew it wasn’t just from downing the bubbly way too fast. They’d kissed. Steve hadn’t had time to process it or reflect because of what had happened after.

Eddie did a lot of things that made Steve want to kiss him. Naturally, he was adorable, but finally, Steve had given in to his impulses. It wasn’t Eddie who’d instigated it, but he’d kissed Steve back, and Steve couldn’t quit thinking about it. Their kiss hadn’t been chaste. Steve had been able to taste the gummy bears Eddie had eaten and everything.

He’d always had a feeling Eddie had a thing for him. He’d tried his best to ignore it, feeling like it wouldn’t be right even though he played into it on stage. They’d never really crossed the line.

Off stage, he’d tried to be with women, but he hadn’t been able to commit to any of them. Weirdly, he felt like he had been betraying Eddie, and he hadn’t found anyone significant. He hadn’t been happy going through the motions every time their tours ended. He was not looking forward to going back home and being alone in his bed.

“I’ll miss you too, dude,” Eddie said, hiding a pleased smile behind a bite of grilled cheese. Maybe the casual use of dude would help deflect the way his scent perked up like a flower in the sun.

Eddie didn’t miss his place one bit. He was thinking of getting a cat. Now that the tour was over, he would have plenty of free time he wouldn’t know what to do with. Getting a pet was a solid idea. Eddie had never had one before. Cats were cuddly and warm and could take up some of the vast space and silence in his house. Maybe he would get several cats.

“It’s so hot,” Steve complained.

He had to take the tank top off. He pulled it from the bottom up and over his head in one fell swoop. Steve sighed as he let it drop to the floor, which only helped slightly.

He reached into the champagne bucket for ice. Steve got a piece and moved it up his neck to his jaw. It felt so good that he moaned a little, but the ice cube melted in seconds.

Any thoughts about felines fell right out of Eddie’s head when Steve started molesting himself with an ice cube. Eddie’s eyes widened into saucers, fist clenching around his spoon. What in the wet o dream was going on here?

“Gotta get out of these fucking pants,” Steve added. While the button wasn’t attacking him anymore, the heavy fabric was roasting him.

Eddie tried to keep acting normal. The shirt was okay—Eddie was used to Steve losing that during the night, but when the pants came off, Eddie dropped his spoon and choked on his soup. It went down the wrong pipe. He coughed. Thumped his chest. “Usually, it’s tequila that makes people’s clothes fall off,” he wheezed.

Sweet baby Jesus, he was gonna die today.

If this were a date, Eddie would absolutely be getting lucky. But since it wasn’t—

“How about we open a window?” Eddie got up, giving the almost naked Alpha a wide berth as he went to approach the one closest to them. He grabbed the handles and heaved upwards. Nothing happened. “Christ, it's stuck.”

He tried again to no avail when suddenly two muscled arms appeared by his sides, and two big paws circled his wrists. “Let me try, Eds.”

“Good day, biceps, my fair gentlemen,” Eddie said to them.

The joke was weak due to the fact he sounded like he was being strangled. He could feel Steve’s body heat along his back even though they weren’t touching. There was a small, minuscule space between them. Steve was like a furnace. Eddie let Steve remove his hands from the handles, and Steve’s hands settled onto them instead.

Steve laughed. He was still reeling over the tequila reference. It only stroked his ego more. His Alpha had a raging hard on from the omega’s continued praise. It stupidly fueled his faith that he could get the window open for them.

He leaned into Eddie instead of suggesting he move. It felt like Eddie being sandwiched between him and the window was helping somehow. His scent was so strong; the aroma was like Steve had just walked into a French bakery. The freshly baked chocolate croissant was calling his name.

Eddie should have ducked out, but for some reason, he stayed frozen where he was. There was straining, veins bulging, and some grunting right in Eddie’s ear that he really had to try not to imagine in a different scenario.

Finally, he could bear the torture no more. Also, the window wasn’t budging. Not a fucking inch. (And, of course, that had Eddie thinking about how many inches Steve had in those paper-thin boxers.)

“Steeeve, I don’t think these were built to open,” Eddie said, not turning around and subtly clenching his cheeks because his slick was trying to make a damn prison break and also, hey, that was an erection. “Maybe we should try the air con.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that first?

Steve should’ve realized the window was sealed shut. Hotels didn’t take kindly to people jumping out of their windows. Eddie was right, even though opening a window was his idea. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, pulling back.

Steve went over to the thermostat and cranked it down, then moved to stand in front of the vent and breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the cool air blasted hard enough to blow his hair back. A happy rumble left his lips, and after a minute, he joined Eddie, who had returned to the table. “Wine time,” Steve declared.

He poured a generous amount into their glasses and sat back down. Steve’s temperature was no longer spiking, but Eddie was smelling more and more delicious. “Eddie, you smell so fucking good. I feel like devouring you instead.”

Steve reached for Eddie’s hand and tugged it across the table, pressing his whole face against Eddie’s inner arm and nuzzling his way up. Steve scented him again and playfully gnawed. “Would you be okay with that?” he asked, eyes dark and hungry. 

Eddie had folded his napkin strategically across his lap. He had barely recovered from what would forever be referred to in his spank bank as the window incident when Steve unleashed more on him. Eddie was glad he hadn’t taken a sip of wine yet because he would have sprayed it all over the table. Instead, he failed spectacularly to repress a noise and a full-body shiver.

Was he hallucinating? Had the loud concerts finally gotten to his ears and damaged them?

“Would I…” Eddie swallowed. Hard. Would he be okay with that? Fuck yes! “I think we should have some cake! You probably just have a sweet tooth.”

Steve was leaning across the table, almost like he was going to kiss Eddie again (sweet mother of fucking mercy). In a desperate attempt not to give in and just let it happen, Eddie snatched his arm back and picked up his fork, stopping Steve’s trajectory with a big mound of cake. “Here, eat up.”

Eddie didn’t give Steve much choice unless he wanted icing smeared all over his face. While Steve worked on his mouthful, Eddie picked up his wineglass and threw it back, throat working as he downed the whole thing and stared determinedly at the wall instead of Steve, who was still trying to penetrate him with his eyes.

Jesus, who’d never listened to Eddie once in his entire life, help him.

“Alright, Alpha— fuck, Steve, you’re going into rut,” Eddie said. It didn’t feel right—not morally —no matter how happy his omega was by the turn of events. Steve seemed not in his proper mind anymore. At all. “You are in a vulnerable state. I can’t let this continue, even if I do want to offer my body as dessert.”

What was he saying? Was the wine already hitting him? He wasn’t really a wine drinker, but surely his tolerance for it wasn’t so weak. Eddie deflected and ripped his arm away so swiftly that Steve couldn’t compute what had happened. Since Eddie had shoved the cake directly into his mouth next, he couldn’t even make a noise in protest. The rush of moist chocolate cake wasn’t what he was craving. It was too much. Steve tried not to choke on it. He had difficulty chewing it and getting it down, so he had to sip the wine to dissolve it quickly. He wasn’t happy that Eddie had done that or about what he’d said. “You didn’t wear your blockers tonight,” Steve pointed out when he could finally talk. He still had enough sense to know that he wasn’t hot and bothered for no fucking reason at all. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth free of icing and crumbs.

Eddie was hot as hell, so there was always that, too, but he’d scented Steve. Threw himself in Steve’s lap and scented his entire stomach when he’d bit at it. The antics in the dressing room had only escalated on stage, and being that close and intimate enough to kiss an almost ripe omega had accelerated it, too. “I don’t have to worry about you taking advantage of me. And there isn’t a crowd of fifty thousand people you can throw yourself into in our room.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

Okay, so he still wasn’t fucking over that. He couldn’t stay mad, though. He cared about Eddie a lot.

Steve knew that he had the power to make Eddie succumb. He wouldn’t. He wanted and needed Eddie’s permission. Steve couldn’t take advantage of the nearest omega like some Alphas did. Eddie was the most important omega in his life. He wasn’t going to tarnish their relationship.

Eddie’s heart started to pound. “Gareth ran out of blockers. I gave him mine. I wasn’t trying to bait you or manipulate you or anything.” Not consciously, anyway. His instincts were a bit more tricky, but he hadn't had some slinky plan to induce Steve’s rut. “And even if I had been, I wouldn’t expect it to work. You’ve never been into me that way. Not in private.”

At least, that had been what Eddie had always assumed up until tonight.

As for his other behavior… Eddie shrugged weakly. He didn't have an excuse. “But I can’t always help the way I act around you.”

Eddie’s omega was convinced Steve was the one for him, and it was hard to argue with it.

Steve didn’t think Eddie was trying to do anything by not wearing his blockers, but he couldn’t deny what it had done to him. Steve already had a natural magnetic pull towards Eddie. He could never fully figure out why. He hadn’t gotten to experience Eddie’s scent like this until now. It was the missing piece.

Of course, Steve knew blockers were the best protection for an unmated omega, and they had to be worn constantly when they were in crowded public places. It kept Eddie safe against any Alpha that had bad intentions. It was imperative on show days where there were known to be rabid fans.

Steve reached out to touch Eddie’s arm again so the omega would look at him. “I know the timing is fucked up, Eddie, but I can promise that if I didn’t really want you, I wouldn’t have insisted that we come back here. Especially when you didn’t smell like you or me for a little while.”

That had really bothered Steve. He didn’t realize how much until now and what he’d blurted out. He’d never experienced it before. He didn’t like his omega smelling like anyone other than him. He knew he didn’t want Eddie’s scent to be tainted by anyone else ever again. Steve didn’t think it was his rut talking. He felt like claiming Eddie tonight so this wouldn’t happen ever again.

“The kiss on stage. Scenting me. That was for real,” Eddie said slowly. “Not just for the fans?”

It was maybe redundant after what Steve had just said, but Eddie wanted direct, verbal validation. Maybe it was the omega part of him.

“You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen, but chicks, man.” Steve thought he was one hundred percent straight. He had been a bit of a hound dog when it came to women. “Felt like I wasn’t allowed to,” he acknowledged. He thought he had to be with female omegas and hadn’t experienced a male one until he’d walked into Eddie’s band. Steve had always thought Eddie was attractive. He wasn’t blind. “You’re a guy,” Steve pointed out, then laughed because, yeah. “Obviously…” It had given him major reservations at first. Guys had liked him before, but he’d never liked any of them back until Eddie.

Steve had been apprehensive about fan service, but he was so comfortable with Eddie that it hadn’t felt wrong. It had only made their shows better. It had become fun to push the boundaries of his sexuality and their Alpha and omega dynamics. It had pushed other people’s buttons and had gotten them talking, making their band even more popular and Eddie a gay icon. “It was real,” Steve confirmed. “I wouldn’t kiss you for fan service, especially not for the first time. I couldn’t help it… I had to.”

Steve hadn’t been thinking. His hormones had been raging—still were—and his real feelings had taken over. He wasn’t sure if it’d make headlines since the more pressing news was the epic stage dive.

Eddie waited patiently while Steve explained his feelings in his own way, not trying to interrupt, just letting him work it out. It was probably the most quiet and attentive Eddie’d ever been in his life, but this was Steve. He was fucking important.

It all made perfect sense, even though part of Eddie still couldn’t quite believe his feelings were being reciprocated. And hey, what, hello, prettiest man he’d ever seen? That could not be correct. 

He thought it tragic that Steve had thought he wasn’t allowed to like omega men all this time. Didn’t surprise Eddie, but it made him sad and angry at their closed-minded society for drilling that into Steve’s head.

“I wanted to keep your scent on me.” Eddie touched Steve’s hand, upset with himself. Steve seemed genuinely wounded by what he’d done. He always got a little waspish when he was hurt. “I only jumped because I panicked. I didn't think it was real, and I didn't want you and everyone to see how much I…”

Eddie stopped. Poured himself another glass of wine because it was suddenly confession hour, and he was spilling his guts. He had been dreading this conversation since the day they’d met. Had hoped it would never happen because he had never pictured it ending well. He didn't want to lose Steve, and he was sure that would happen when Steve figured out just how deeply Eddie felt for him. This wasn't some light-hearted puppy love, as much as Eddie tried to twist it that way in his head when he was “harmlessly” flirting.

“I just don’t think I can do this if…” Eddie took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye, ”…if it’s going to be a one-time thing. I feel more than want for you, Steve—more than like for you, and I have for a long time. I’m not asking you to claim me,” he added quickly, nervously. “You don’t, uh, have to do that. Obviously. Just—I’d want to date you.”

Hearing Eddie's confession melted Steve’s heart a little. “You wanna date?” he asked. “You’ll allow me to court you? So, if we fucked tonight, it wouldn’t be in sin after all?”

Eddie went to toy with one of his rings but forgot it wasn't there, and he ended up rubbing his mating ring finger in an accidentally telling way. He smiled uncertainly. “I don’t want to be friends who fuck. Or friends who fuck and then go back to being just friends. Don’t think I could stand it, honestly.”

Steve’s teasing smirk softened. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d be okay if I never even got the chance to claim you.”

Steve knew his rut was responsible for him wanting to claim Eddie right now. He felt ready because he’d been so angry about not getting to have Eddie in the first place that he just wanted it to be official already. He knew he hadn’t scented Eddie thoroughly enough, so he got up and dropped down in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie’s body was practically vibrating with need for contact. Like Steve knew that, he was suddenly there, sinking his heavy, reassuring weight on Eddie and laying that delectable chocolate scent all over Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned back with a groan, making the chair creak (it probably wasn’t suited to hold the weight of two grown men).

“Babe, consider me courted.” Really, it didn’t take much more than that. This was his dream come true. Eddie laughed, and even that sounded like he was in ecstasy, threaded with a deep purr that didn't make an appearance very often. “Besides, you’re the one who needs my courting before I pop your cherry.”

Two could play at the teasing game, always, and Eddie was relieved to get back to their banter. Now, it was just sexier. Steve was a virgin who’d never experienced men before, after all—and there Eddie was, unworthy but happy as hell and honored to be the one to give him all the experience he could ever want.

“Hello, thunder thighs.” He meant that in the best way possible. Eddie squeezed them greedily because he was allowed to do that now. He tipped his head up to look at Steve, putting on his silky omega voice. “You know, a few perks come with dating a male omega, and one of them is…”

It had been enough time that his legs no longer felt like cooked spaghetti. Eddie stood up, taking all one hundred and sixty pounds of Steve with him, and dropped his sweaty body onto the bed. Eddie smirked. “ We can do shit like that.”

Steve was turning red, his temperature spiking again. It was a first, getting carried and thrown onto the bed like he was the one who was going to get fucked. Eddie was strong. Steve didn’t hate it.

“That was hot,” Steve said, rumbling as he pushed himself to sit up. He pulled Eddie by the shirt and guided him into his lap. “Don’t think you should be wearing this anymore.”

Steve removed it for him, and as soon as it was off, he went in for a kiss. Eddie tasted sweeter than he had on stage. It felt good to be kissing again. Properly, without a time crunch, and in the privacy of their room where they didn’t have to stop.

All of Eddie’s weight baring down on him felt good, too. Steve’s hands settled on Eddie’s ass. They needed something to hold onto. Since Eddie had shamelessly groped his thighs, it was only fair that Steve kneaded Eddie’s ass like dough through his boxers. It was the only other fluffy part of Eddie’s body besides his hair. Steve had always admired it.

“For the record, the only thing that’s getting popped tonight is my knot,” Steve promised, locking eyes with Eddie.

Like a trained dog, Eddie’s ears perked, and his pupils visibly dilated at the word knot. He’d been trying not to think about Steve’s most of the night. Trying very hard not to think about it stretching him out before locking inside. You know, respectfully, you didn’t think about your best friend’s knot fucking you stupid, especially when said best friend was in the room with you. (It was a little different when you were alone in your bed at 2 AM with your Turbo Knotter 3000 buzzing away.)

Now, that was mostly what was on Eddie’s mind as they kissed again, and Steve massaged his meagre ass like it was more than what it was. Eddie couldn’t resist rocking his hips in Steve’s lap, gushing slick like a river in preparation for it. The other thing that was on his mind was how desperately he didn’t want to fuck this up. He couldn’t be a lousy lay, had to be a good omega, the best omega, couldn’t do something to ruin this—but with his track record…

The thin material between them wasn’t leaving much up to the imagination. Eddie had a big cock—he acted like he did, too—so it wasn’t a surprise for Steve to feel it poking in his stomach. Steve smelled Eddie’s slick and then felt it saturating Eddie’s boxers. He was pleased. He knew he’d done a good job turning an omega on when slick started. He was ravenous for it and its source.

Steve broke the kiss to speak in his Alpha voice. “Let me get you out of these, baby. You soaked them, didn’t you? Just for me. I made you get that wet, huh?”

It was a shock, the filth that spilled from Steve’s mouth. Eddie was stunned into almost bashful silence (which wasn’t right because he didn’t do bashful), an aroused flush blotting his cheeks and working its way down his neck. He’d never experienced Steve’s Alpha voice. It was better than he’d imagined. Between his thighs, he throbbed with want.

In the past, he may have heard Steve’s voice through the paper-thin walls of the motels they used to stay at, but that was more painful than stimulating since it had been directed at whoever Steve had brought to his den for the night.

“Just for you,” Eddie echoed with a dumb smile.

Steve smiled devilishly. He pushed Eddie’s boxers down over his ass, then laid him back at the end of the bed so he could take them the rest of the way off. “I’m totally keeping these, by the way.” Steve sniffed them playfully, then tossed them to the floor.

Eddie had been reduced to a lovesick, brain-dead groupie. Future him would be sickened remembering his impulse to do anything for Steve’s voice. The way his body melted under it. He was glad he had the mattress underneath him for support. He was so wet, now rid of his boxers that Steve apparently wanted to keep as a snack for later, that he was making a puddle on the bed. “They’re all yours, gorgeous. Have them.”

Way to be subtle, Munson. Might as well have said you own me.

Speaking of owning, Eddie didn’t touch his dick, even though it was arching up along his belly and painfully hard, flushed dark red and ready for use. His omega was telling him that also belonged to Steve now. He could do whatever he wanted with it.

Steve sighed, rumbling deeply at the sight before him. He didn’t know where to start.  He spotted some slick on Eddie’s milky and much skinnier thigh and leaned down to lap it up with his tongue. “Fuck, it’s good,” Steve praised.

He got down between Eddie’s thighs and licked and sucked his way up to the source, lifting Eddie’s legs for full access to his ass.

Eddie’s breath hitched. Steve liked how he tasted?

“Been a while since anybody’s been down there. Might have to clear the cobwebs and bats out before you start.” A crappy joke. Eddie began rambling. Why was he fucking nervous? Oh yeah, because he was living his fantasy. He should have drunk that second glass of wine. “Thought I might have to be your teacher during this quest, but you—mh!” Steve’s lips were kissing his hole, his tongue circling Eddie’s sensitive rim. Eddie whined, legs closing briefly around Steve’s head before he got ahold of himself and opened them again. “You seem to be doing okay down there without my tutelage.”

Tutelage? Did he just say tutelage in the middle of sex?

Steve would’ve laughed if his mouth wasn’t busy. Eddie was so fucking cute. He was hungry. While he hadn’t eaten ass before, he didn’t hesitate. His need for Eddie was the driving factor behind his confidence. The fact that it had been a while since Eddie had an Alpha between his legs pleased Steve, too.

Eddie’s slick was delicious. Steve took his time licking and kissing. All he could think about was making Eddie feel as good as he could, considering it’d been a while and that he didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing. He just wanted Eddie to feel treasured and give him some good foreplay.

Steve’s face was getting messy. He loved it. When Eddie’s thighs put him in a headlock, he figured what he was doing was good. He could fuck him easily with his tongue. The texture was new, but the gush of slick onto his tongue made him hum happily. This was the sweetest slick he’d ever experienced. It was so addicting.

Eddie groaned. “M’already fucking this up, aren’t I?” Eddie closed his eyes, sinking his fingers into Steve’s hair, which was still semi-stiff and crunchy from all the Dippity Do. He tried to relax and stop thinking so hard. “Swear I’m usually better than this.”

Not too many of his past partners had done this to him before. Eddie wasn’t particularly interesting down there. His cock he was incredibly proud of, but he knew as far as omegas went, his ass was kind of a snore. Being up close and personal with it like Steve was probably wasn't as exciting as Steve was used to. Eddie knew he didn't compare to any of the curvy female omegas Steve had been with.

Eddie was fine with his lack of assets now, of course, but when he’d first started hooking up with Alphas, the lack of compliments had felt admittedly shitty, especially when he knew other omegas got a lot of them during sex. He’d had to work extra hard to get praise and attention there or pretend he didn’t care. Felt like he didn’t deserve any.

Now that he was famous, guys would tell him anything he wanted to hear and more, but it was rarely genuine.

Steve was confused. What was Eddie talking about? He was having a good time. He was working his way up to getting laid. They both were, but Eddie was worrying about being a good omega. Steve didn’t want to, but he had to stop and keep Eddie from spiralling. He licked up from Eddie’s hole, along his taint and balls and finally lifted his head to look up at him.

“You know, whenever I’m getting head, I never think about if I’m doing a good job.” He had to tease. He just wanted Eddie to enjoy this.

Steve was sitting up, which made Eddie panic a little, thinking things were ending, but it was probably for the best since he was starting to tense up so much that his slick had nearly stopped. He laughed weakly and resisted throwing an arm over his eyes. “Perk of being an omega: constantly needing validation.”

All omegas were whores for praise. Eddie didn’t want to be needy, but his biology just dictated some things for him. It was annoying, more times than not, but it was who he was.

“You’re perfect, Eddie. Look at my face.” Steve smiled, soft and big and genuine. “I’m so happy.”

Steve rumbled as he moved up Eddie’s body, kissing everything, his dick, stomach and chest. When he got to Eddie’s neck, he scraped his canine teeth along it.

Eddie made a noise, torn between embarrassment and that natural euphoria pleasing the Alpha elicited. Perfect? Was Steve telling the truth or just pitying him? It felt genuine, was the thing. Steve wasn’t a liar.

The command to look was easy to follow. Steve did look happy, actually. His cute little brown eyes were sparkling, the lower half of his face messy with slick, hair messy, debauched. Eddie smiled back, a gentle purr vibrating through his chest. 

“Being with you like this is making me so fucking nervous, Stevie,” Eddie confessed with a chuckle as Steve laid kisses on him that felt like little electric buzzes against his skin. As if it wasn’t obvious already, and the way his heart was pounding like Gareth’s drums under Steve’s lips. “I’m a wreck. I’ve thought about this—you—a lot.” Don’t want you to regret me.

There was a low ache in Steve’s belly when he got his mouth on Eddie’s neck. His knot started throbbing. Eddie’s words were music to Steve’s ears. He was so close to biting; his mouth was watering. Eddie’s scent gland was right there.

Eddie pulled Steve’s hips into the vee of his legs, his hands travelling down Steve’s heated back and caressing it. When he felt the sharpness of teeth near his gland, his nails dug in, making Steve gasp, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck,” he breathed. His pulse sped up even more, finding a new rhythm like it was learning a song. “Careful, sweetheart, you might…”

Mate me.

“Don’t be nervous, Eddie bear. I swear I want to. I want you,” Steve said with a possessive growl. He kissed the spot tenderly instead of heeding the warning.

His mating mark would look so good there. Everyone would know Eddie was his, and no one else could claim him. Why wasn’t he claimed yet?

Steve didn’t really know why either of them hadn’t found their mate. Maybe they were waiting for each other. Steve felt a relief tonight for the first time since he’d met Eddie. Eddie had always been closed off to him in a couple of ways. Through their friendship, the band and scent blockers. Their heat and rut schedules were always planned and purposely spent apart.

Steve also didn’t know why he hadn’t taken off his boxers. It was the last thing separating them from full-body contact. Steve moved to get them off. He was still burning up, knowing there wouldn’t be any true relief until he was knot deep inside of Eddie. He sighed a little when he was free and rolled them onto their sides so they could kiss again.

He’d missed Eddie’s mouth. While they kissed, Steve found Eddie’s hand and moved it to wrap around his cock. It needed attention immediately. He wanted Eddie to feel how hard he had gotten because of him.

Somehow, hearing Steve’s sweet nickname for him in the Alpha voice made Eddie’s blush deepen. He tried not to pant like a bitch in heat at the declaration, but it was hopeless. He was gone, gone, gone. Mating bells were ringing in his head. Steve sounded greedy for him. Holy shit. Steve wanted him for keeps. Eddie would do a little jig if he weren’t, y’know, horizontal and busy being utterly seduced.

They were making out again, and Steve’s thigh was between his, pressing up against his wet and sticky cock. Eddie groaned into Steve’s mouth at the friction. It was funny. Eddie had never enjoyed kissing all that much until today. Don’t get him wrong; it was fun sometimes, but more often than not, nothing to write home about. Like, he could do without it easily.

It was nothing like this. Steve tasted like cake and wine and Eddie’s slick, and he knew how to kiss an omega. They fell into sync naturally, both of them going back in for more and more like they would die if they stopped.

Eddie’s lips felt swollen when Steve grabbed his hand—Eddie was a little contrite to note he had just been clutching onto Steve’s side like a lifeline—and guided it to his big, gorgeous cock. It was so heated in his hand. Hard as steel.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve rumbled sweetly in between kisses. “You feel me? You did that because you’re so fucking hot. You have the sweetest slick.”

Eddie squeezed, though he was the one who gasped and shivered as Steve continued to stroke his ego. That was what he’d done. Made Steve hard for him. “I-I feel you,” Eddie responded.

Steve nudged his nose against Eddie’s. “You’re making my knot hurt.” He whined a little as he met Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie ran his thumb along Steve’s throbbing knot reverently and felt an echoing deep throb in his hole, slick running down the back of his thigh.

“You’re gonna let me pop it, huh? I’m gonna fill you up so good. You’ll feel full,” Steve promised. He planned to absolutely ruin Eddie for any other Alpha’s knot. Only his was going to fit. He pulled Eddie’s thigh towards him so he could have access to his ass.

Steve’s rut smell was heady and thick in his nose. Eddie was so thirsty for him that his vision was glazed and blurring, and he was nodding like a bobblehead. “Yes, yeah, yeah, please. Want all of you. Want your knot. Please. Need it, Alpha. Please.”

That was three times he’d said please. His nerves had run away. He really just wanted to be fucked into next Tuesday by his (yes, his!) Alpha.

Steve’s fingertips met so much slick. He rubbed his thumb against Eddie’s hole before pressing his index and middle finger inside. His eyebrows rose, feeling the resistance around his fingers. He slowly twisted his wrist, drilling his fingers to get them in while watching Eddie’s face.

By the time Steve had two fingers inside him, Eddie was so turned on his eyes were trying to roll up in his head, and his leg was trembling around Steve’s hip. Fuck, it felt good. No, it felt fucking incredible. Steve had thick, long fingers. Eddie had watched them closely and touched them when he’d taught Steve how to play the guitar a few years back. (He’d also jerked off furiously after each teaching session because… well because.)

“I know there’s this spot...” Steve worked Eddie open. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on feeling it.

Steve’s concentrated expression was hilarious and endearing as hell, but Eddie was in no state to tease him because Steve had found his golden ticket.

“Oh god, oh my god, oh my god,“ Eddie moaned. Too loud, too loud, shit. It had only been a short, experimental press of Steve’s finger pads, but it left Eddie shaking like an overstimulated chihuahua and gushing slick.

“Fuck yeah, there it is.” Steve grinned and added a third finger, readying Eddie to take his knot.

Eddie’s hand had gone limp around Steve’s dick since his brain had leaked out of his ears, but he got with the program again and renewed his grip, stroking Steve from knot to tip to the same rhythm Steve was fingering him.

The head of Eddie’s cock knocked against Steve’s from the fast motions. Eddie whimpered and tightened around Steve’s fingers as pre-come jetted out, hitting Steve’s chest and getting caught in his hair. “Steve, now? Now, please? I’m gonna co—not gonna—make it.”

Fingering was hot and a lot of fun. Steve loved using his hand first. He knew, without the declaration, that Eddie was going to come. “Oh, Eddie,” he said. “Baby, you can come now. I promise it won’t be the only time you’ll get to.”

Steve kept his fingers firmly inside of Eddie. He wasn’t going to stop, especially with the way Eddie was quivering. He was going to make it happen. It’d be cruel to stop and start again with him this close. Steve loved to get omegas off, especially without it directly triggering his own need to come.

It helped that Eddie was touching him. His hand was big and fit around Steve’s cock and knot perfectly, stroking everything. He moaned softly in Eddie’s ear. “You’re making me feel so good. It's so hot that you’re gonna come for me already. Just from my fingers? That’s amazing. You’re such a good omega. You’re easily pleased by your Alpha, aren’t you?”

Another shock to Eddie’s system was Steve’s… kindness towards him. Generosity. Those words didn't go together with sex. He wanted to make Eddie come more than once? Even though he was in rut that had to be demanding he just flip Eddie over and mount him already. It didn't make sense why he was putting Eddie’s needs before his own. It didn’t make any sense at all.

All the Alphas Eddie had ever been with treated him the opposite. It was never good omega. It was always bad omega. Needy slut. Desperate whore. You’re just pathetic for it, aren’t you?

And sure, Eddie looked like the type who would be into that sort of thing, he’d admit. His whole persona kinda screamed I’m a brat, put me in my place. He didn’t look like an omega who wanted to be treated nicely, and he’d never corrected anybody who’d assumed so.

But he was that kind of omega. It actually stung sometimes—okay, every time—he was called names like that. Made him feel as worthless as a broken guitar string. The worst part was that his partners had never had any problem crossing the finish line, even if Eddie had gone limp.

So this, being called good? Being hot? Making Steve feel good? Being his baby…Shit, it was like nothing Eddie had ever experienced, and it was hitting him so hard he probably could have come from the affirmations alone. Eddie was making animal noises instead of actual words. There was a direct line from his ear to his heart to his dick. The prostate stimulation was now just a bonus. The cherry on top.

Steve dug his fingers into the spot he found and jackhammered them as Eddie whined and came between them. Steve kissed him once more before gently pulling his fingers out and pulling back. “I can’t wait to give you my knot.”

Eddie had never come so hard in his life, and as the pleasure center in his brain lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, it became Eddie’s sworn duty—his eternal vow—to make sure he was Steve’s good omega forever.

Eddie could barely kiss back, uncoordinated and panting. “No more waiting,” he swore.

Steve made a little show out of sucking Eddie’s slick from all three of his fingers. He rumbled at the taste. Afterward, he used his hand to push Eddie onto his back. There was a good amount of come on Eddie’s stomach, fresh and glistening. “Goddamn, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s last brain cell took a swan dive to its death. Steve was acting like he was a delectable treat. Steve liked Eddie’s taste. Eddie was good.

Eddie flopped back bonelessly against the mattress as Steve maneuvered him, hair that was now mostly dry splaying out on the pillow beneath it. He watched Steve with hearts in his eyes, his post-orgasm scent overpowering the room and almost consuming Steve’s. He felt like he was floating, but also—

“Holy fuck, Stevie, you’re gonna kill me,” Eddie said, completely breathless. Steve had leaned down and was eating his come. The look on his face was predatory and ravenous. He let out a rumbly growl like he was still starving. Eddie’s abs clenched, and his cock gave a valiant twitch, aftershocks wracking his body before settling again as Steve finished his meal. He grinned. “And what a sweet death it’ll be.”

No way he’d rather go.

Steve hadn’t tasted come before. Eddie’s was good; salty and sweet but not as syrupy as his slick. “Definitely not going to kill you, Bambi.” That nickname slipped out easily with Eddie’s long, skinny legs in the crooks of his arms.

Eddie laughed. Now that the edge was off, he felt relaxed and happy, though no less needy. He could make sure his Alpha was taken care of. He wanted to make Steve feel more than good. He wanted to make him feel great and amazing. Eddie spread his legs a little more and lifted his hips, presenting his dripping hole as much as the position would allow. He clenched his muscles purposefully so Steve could see it gape open and closed, smirking playfully at the reaction. “Shove that pretty cock in me. Go as hard as you want. I can really take it.”

Steve didn’t have to hold back any longer. He could let his Alpha out and let it take him over, take what it wanted. Eddie was still soft—his refractory period was a lot slower out of his heat cycle, but he had no doubt he’d get hard again before Steve popped his knot. Honestly, probably as soon as Steve slid home.

The vision in front of Steve felt like a dream. The view of Eddie’s wet and prepped hole was perfect. It felt tight around his fingers. He watched Eddie control himself, and Steve’s jaw dropped in awe. “Okay, so that… that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie grinned, a proud purr erupting from his chest simultaneously. He loved Steve’s reaction so much; how his face went slack and almost amazed. Eddie had done that to him.

Steve had to laugh in disbelief. He’d never been so turned on. He’d never had Eddie, so it made sense. Eddie was telling him he could… could go as hard as he wanted.

Steve was so hard. He didn’t want to hurt Eddie. He guided Eddie’s legs to wrap around him so he could take his cock. He made a noise as he touched himself to Eddie’s hole for the first time, eyes trained on the target. He had to thread himself inside an incredibly tight hole. His eyes widened in surprise as he pushed, and Eddie pulled him in.

“Christ.” He breathed through it. Hot, almost searing, pulsing pleasure surrounded him. All Eddie’s tight resistance would allow was a painfully slow descent. He was so tight it felt like he hadn’t even been prepped.

Eddie crossed his ankles, heels resting along the small of Steve’s back as Steve pressed against his waiting entrance. He was more than ready to be fucked, to be taken, for his ass to be claimed (for all of him to be claimed). It was a pleasurable surprise when there was no shoving. Steve went slow instead. Slow, slow, deliciously slow, filling Eddie up one thick inch at a time. With each push, Eddie let out a soft ah, head tossed back.

Eddie was fully hard again by the time Steve’s knot teased at his rim, rocking against him, and if he didn’t have self-control, tears might’ve sprung to his eyes at just how whole he suddenly felt. Like a fucking missing piece of him had finally slid into place, and Steve was that piece. Jesus Christ. How were his thoughts turning this fucking corny when he wasn't even in heat?

Steve fell forward and caged him in with his arms. Fucking face-to-face was new. Eddie didn’t do missionary. Usually, he’d just be bent over the nearest surface, standing, or on all fours somewhere. He was pretty well acquainted with rug burns and bruised knees. This was intimate.

Steve nudged Eddie’s nose sweetly with his own, then tilted his head back and let out a guttural moan. “Feels like you got me in a goddamn vice, Eddie.”

A small, overwhelmed smile touched Eddie’s lips.  The moan was deep, satisfied, and raised all the hair on Eddie’s arms.

This must have been Steve’s first time. It made sense. Female omegas didn’t have a sweet spot in their ass like guys did. Of course, that didn’t stop greedy Alphas from using that hole anyway, but Eddie was quickly learning Steve was considerate in bed. He probably hadn’t fucked any of his girlfriend’s asses. He was too sweet. The thought was oddly comforting. (Eddie’s head was fucked up, man, okay. He knew it.)

Eddie watched Steve’s face, enrapt, and pet his hands down Steve’s shoulders and chest, wanting to touch. Steve was a beautiful Alpha. Pleasure looked so damn good on him, and he deserved so much. Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. What had he done to deserve him?

There was absolutely no give for Steve’s knot yet. He was used to some. Certainly, Eddie had taken a knot, maybe not as big as his, though. The realization inflated Steve’s ego.

Moving got easier as Eddie adapted and stretched more for Steve as he started moving his hips. “Good omega, you’re so tight for me. You’ve probably never had a cock this big and thick.” Slick started pooling as if on cue, and it made Steve smile. “You’re getting ready for my knot.”

Steve could feel it when he really started fucking Eddie. Eddie was so wet it felt like he had gone into heat for Steve. Steve picked up the pace, rumble growling as he slammed in harder with every thrust, rocking his knot. Steve was feeling frantic, his heart racing and knot throbbing.

“I’ve had guys tell me their dicks were as big as yours,” Eddie replied with a hitched moan. He cracked a grin, toes still curled from the second good omega of the night. Eddie had never smiled or laughed this much during sex before. It was fun. The most fun he’d ever had with anyone. “Always a disappointment. But you’re… fuck, fuck! ” A deep thrust had Eddie spasming around Steve and adding shakily, “Really living up to your nickname, big boy.”

That was the last thing Eddie could say for a while. The mood shifted. His hands were pressed to the pillow on either side of his head, and his fingers interlaced with Steve’s as they went harder and faster until Steve was drilling into him.

Again, it was incredibly intimate. The most vulnerable Eddie had ever felt, and it had nothing to do with the pounding his ass was taking. He was more than naked. His soul was bare. Steve was staring into his eyes like Eddie was the center of his universe—like nothing else mattered. He didn’t think it was just his omega hormones that were being dramatic and romantic. Was it?

Steve didn’t advertise that he had a big dick outside of sex. Sure, he’d mention it, like he just had in context. Eddie calling him big boy always made him blush. He hadn’t fully realized until now it was because of his dick. Steve’s face was already hot; he was sure it was crimson now.

Eddie felt so good he was questioning his sexuality altogether. Of course, he’d admired other men, but fucking one—fucking Eddie—he didn’t know it could feel this good.

Steve didn’t have any complaints about his past, but he didn’t want to fuck anyone else after this. It couldn’t be his rut making him want to claim Eddie. Steve knew he loved and cared about Eddie. He thought Eddie was gorgeous and talented. He was fun and funny, and Steve always felt nauseous when Eddie spent the night out when they were on the road.

The following day, he’d always show up disheveled, alabaster skin bruised and looking worse for wear—almost like he had escaped something dangerous. Steve never liked it, and his Alpha would get snappy. He’d end up blaming his bitchiness on his need for his morning coffee.

Claiming the omega could put a stop to Eddie’s reckless behavior. Steve had had about enough of it after the stage dive tonight.

Eddie’s back bowed, and he squeezed Steve’s hands like they were the only things tethering him to the bed. Whimpering moans punched out of him. It felt so fucking good, his cock was slapping against his stomach, and tears did spring to Eddie’s eyes then just from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Knot me, please?” he begged, feeling that molten hot buzz building up inside him too fast to control. He was about to come again. “Sweetheart. Alpha. Steve. I—I’m ready.”

And he was ready, so ready that I fucking love you had almost slipped free. It was true. It was way too soon to say that. He didn’t want to scare Steve away. But he couldn’t stop his next instinct. Chin lifting, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His neck baring itself, begging to be bitten.

Eddie was begging for his knot. Steve could feel with his thrusts that Eddie was almost there. So was Steve. He’d been in pain, his knot and heart aching in sync.

Eddie bared his neck, and Steve dropped their gaze for the first time since they’d started fucking. He licked his lips. He knew he had to and that he was going to do it. Enough was enough, and Eddie was finally going to be his.

“It’s yours. I’m yours. You’re all fucking mine.” Steve squeezed Eddie’s hands because he was going to do it. Eddie was ready for it—ready for his bite and knot.

Eddie shuddered hard, moaning. He couldn’t believe his ears. His lucky, lucky ears. Steve was giving himself to Eddie, verbally claiming Eddie.

Steve leaned down and kissed the prettiest place for his mark to be forever. It was his favorite spot on Eddie’s neck; his hair could hide it, but part of it would always be on display.

Steve bared down, popped his knot and let out the most pleased, possessive, growly moan he didn’t know he had in him as he locked in and came harder than ever before.

Steve’s knot grew in Eddie. It filled him up, so full he could barely contain it, but he did, closing around it greedily. The noise Steve released as he came made Eddie feel like a prize Steve had won. He sounded victorious. He hadn’t even had to hunt. Eddie had submitted completely to him without being chased. He’d always been by Steve’s side waiting, after all.

Steve’s face buried in his neck, accepting Eddie’s offering. The skin broke under his canines, and Eddie cried out as Steve’s teeth sank deeply into him. It was painful, burning, white-hot stinging—but he loved it. He loved it so fucking much. He loved Steve so fucking much.

Steve tasted Eddie’s blood, signaling a successful claim. A rush of it hit his tongue, and he moaned. He sucked the wound gently and lapped his tongue over it for good measure, making it clean. He pulled back and admired it. It looked so fucking good on him. Steve had an omega now.

It felt like his heart was fluttering out of his chest. It was beating so fast from the amazing sex. Eddie did pop his cherry, literally. He was panting and sweating, his body lightly shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm and being tied to Eddie.

Eddie was going to remember this until the day he died. He was going to replay this memory whenever he could, was going to play Steve’s Alpha voice in his mind forever and ever and ever and ever and—

“Yours! Steve, I love you! ” he gasped. He came hard. Even harder than the first time.

Then he promptly passed out.

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Steve hadn’t gotten to touch Eddie’s cock, but clearly, he had come again. Steve was happy he hadn’t broken his promise. He was feeling a little bashful when Eddie told him he was his and that he loved him.

“I love you, too…” he managed to say, but Eddie hadn’t heard him.

Eddie was unconscious. Steve could’ve sworn his heart stopped. “Eddie!” he yelled, and immediately grabbed Eddie’s wrist to check his pulse because had his dick killed him?

Eddie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his eyes opened to Steve’s panicked face above him. "Whoa. Shit, did I just…”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Steve said, still wide-eyed, though part of him felt like dying laughing for thinking his dick was capable of committing murder.

Eddie cupped Steve's cheeks with both hands when he was lucid enough to. He laughed in disbelief, stroking the apples of them with his thumbs. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m okay. …Guess I’m not immune to that Steve Harrington fainting charm after all.”

Eddie tilted his chin up to kiss the Alpha (he couldn’t believe he was allowed to do that now) gently and languidly, tasting the sweet iron tang of his blood on Steve’s tongue.

Steve accepted the kiss because, yes, it would make everything better after the fright he had just experienced. It was kind of funny—or would be later when they told people the story of how they had become mates.

Eddie used the last dregs of his energy to roll them over so he was on top, straddling Steve’s knot—which still felt enormous and wonderful, and Eddie was already so addicted to it he was going to be knot-stupid for days. It would be a while before it went down and they unlocked, and he wanted Steve to be comfortable. He’d been holding himself on top of Eddie for a long time.

Steve gasped a little as the switch tugged his knot deliciously. He was happy to rest on his back and get to cup Eddie’s sweet ass. He petted it gently and smiled up at him. They were a hot mess, sticky and wet.

Eddie reached up to touch the marks on his neck with his fingertips. The marks that said Property of Steve. They were sore and throbbing in the best way. “Fuck,” he muttered.

He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them. He immediately zeroed in on Steve’s neck. Unmarred, pretty skin, waiting for a bite in return. Eddie’s gaze flicked up, and he found himself trapped under Steve’s. His face suddenly flamed as he remembered what he’d said before the world had gone black. I love you.

He felt shame, especially because he was riding such a high right now—his whole body was vibrating with his purr, giving away his feelings that had already been so thoroughly outed.

He wanted to apologize for his behavior, for offering his neck like that when Steve was in rut and not of full sound mind. He’d just wanted it so badly. It had been selfish.

The apology stuck in his throat. Eddie just couldn’t bring himself to say sorry. It wouldn't be genuine. He didn't feel sorry.

“I hope it’s okay… that I did that,” Steve said. “You don’t have to do it back right now. You’ll let me take you out when we get home, right?”

Steve was going to court the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie was fucking floored that one, Steve thought he might not be okay with having been bitten, and two, Steve thought he was worthy enough, respectable enough of an omega that he needed to be formally courted. Eddie never thought he’d be one of those omegas who would get to experience that. As a celebrity, sure, but as himself, as regular Eddie? No way.

He didn’t need any grand gestures—Steve staking his claim was more than enough—but Eddie would admit that it did make his dumb little heart flutter to think about it —just a tad.

“Of course I’ll go out with you, pretty, but you don’t have to go through the trouble of romancing me.” Eddie flashed Steve a smitten smile that showed off his set of canines, much shorter than the Alpha’s but no less sharp. “I’m kind of a sure thing.”

More than kind of. Why play coy now? His heart was in Steve’s hands.

He’d have to bite Steve for their bond to take. Otherwise, his marks would heal and start to fade in a few months. A one-sided claim. The last thing Eddie wanted was for Steve to think Eddie was rejecting him. There was no way, in any world, in any fucking universe where that would happen. It was actually hilarious how unlikely it was.

“I just want to wait a little while. When your rut is over, and you’ve had more time to think about it,” Eddie added in a softer tone.

While part of Eddie—an extremely large fucking portion—wanted to latch onto Steve’s neck like it was a chew toy and never let go, the sober part of him wanted Steve to have some time, with a clear head, to make sure he really did want this.

Steve was slowly coming out of the fog of his rut, but he already knew that being sober from his hormones wasn’t going to change how he felt about Eddie. Eddie could make it official right fucking now, and Steve would probably sing Hallelujah. He was frustrated Eddie had told him he didn’t have to go through any trouble. “I do, and I will go through as much trouble as I think you deserve. Which is a lot.”

Steve wanted to take him on dates, buy him things, and, most importantly, love, protect and respect him. It wasn’t lost on Steve when Eddie told him before they’d started that he didn’t want this to be casual.

“You don’t have to spend your heats alone either. You have an Alpha now, and I’m going to take care of you.” Steve would’ve been dramatic about pulling out the stops if they had put off the fucking part during his rut, but he did think courting was important. Like most things, he’d overcommitted and claimed Eddie as soon as his knot had popped. It was what they’d both wanted deep down. Steve wanted to give Eddie experiences he’d never had, and there would be no more throwing himself into crowds or running off with lousy Alphas.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured. He chewed on his bottom lip, filled with emotions. Emotions even bigger than the knot inside him. He didn’t believe he was deserving of it, of any of it, but Steve’s solid conviction was making him doubt that a teensy bit.

Nobody had ever wanted to take care of Eddie before. Fuck him, yeah, of course. But care for? That would be a significant change from his heat routine. “I’m going to take care of you, too,” Eddie promised.

He would. Even better than how he was taking care of Steve now. He had already been fiercely protective of the Alpha as his best friend, but with their friend barrier broken down (or levelled up), Eddie’s natural instinct would be to protect Steve and please him even more. Whenever Steve wanted or needed him.

Also, Eddie guessed he would be retiring the Turbo Knotter 3000—hopefully forever. Eddie should probably thank it for its years of faithful service. About a month ago, he had been looking at the new Turbo Knotter 4000 in a sex shop and had been planning on buying it soon. He was glad he hadn’t.

“It’s a good thing you never brought any of the Alphas you’ve been with around. I probably would’ve kicked their asses for not treating you like they should.” Steve knew they hadn’t, and it made him bitchy, witnessing his best friend getting mistreated. “Their loss,” he huffed.

Eddie couldn't repress his chuckle. Steve wanting to defend him was cute as hell but unnecessary. Smartly, Eddie didn't say what he was thinking—that they'd treated him fine, that it was normal for a guy like him to be slapped around during sex, never anything out of the ordinary.

In the past, he'd noticed a pattern of Steve’s bad moods swinging on the mornings after Eddie had been with someone. He’d be tense during soundcheck or snippy with everybody while they had breakfast. Eddie still didn't understand why it was a big deal, but he regretted upsetting the Alpha each time.

(He had a feeling Steve wouldn’t be very pleased if he ever found out tonight wasn’t the only time he’d passed out during sex. The other time, it had been after some erotic asphyxiation gone wrong. It had been unplanned, mostly unasked for, and after that night, Eddie had never tried it again. Or at least, he’d requested it not be done to him.)

Eddie had to kiss Steve again. More than just a need. It was vital. Eddie was amused and flattered to note Steve’s hands were still on his ass as he carefully leaned down.

“You’re just unreal, you know that?” Eddie murmured. His hair fell off his shoulders, curtaining each side of Steve’s face. He copied Steve’s move from earlier, giving him a gentle nuzzling, nose to nose, before kissing him thoroughly.

Steve’s hands navigated up from Eddie’s ass to his back as he kissed back with a deep, satisfied rumble. He rubbed it gently. Eddie smelled like him now. There would be no mistaking that he wasn’t Steve’s. It was incredible. It almost didn’t feel real. Could this be the best dream he’d ever had? If so, he didn’t want to wake up.

“Goddamn angel.” Eddie smiled at him. Steve was still wearing his stage makeup, looking particularly angelic, if not innocent, as he blinked up at Eddie in gold. “Do you wanna come home with me tomorrow? To Hawkins?”

Besides the fact that Eddie would probably (definitely) be climbing the walls and biting his nails down to the bone if they were states apart in the next few days, he knew Wayne would love to see Steve. Especially if they were going to be mated in the near future. Wayne already considered Steve to be like his son, so Eddie was sure it’d go over well and his uncle would be happy for them.

Maybe it would be better if Eddie gave Steve the space alone to think, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to curl up in the jet with his Alpha, then take him to their old puphood haunts and kiss him silly all over their small-minded little town. He had also long since bought Wayne a house to replace his trailer so they wouldn’t even have to sleep in Eddie’s old twin bed.

Steve laughed a little and blushed. What he had done to Eddie wasn’t angelic, but hearing Eddie say something so sweet about him made him smile. “Yes. I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” Steve said honestly. He didn’t want Eddie going anywhere without him either. “You’re my omega.”

Fuck, that was music to Eddie’s ears. Steve’s omega. “I am,” Eddie confirmed.

Steve gently tucked Eddie’s hair behind his ears so he could see his face. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

The compliments weren’t going to stop now that they’d fucked. Now, he could just say what he was thinking.

Eddie’s purr ratcheted up even more, though he complained with a quiet, “ Steeeve,” because he didn’t know what to do with himself. How to act. He’d never purred so much in his life. He was going to get a sore throat.

“It’ll be fun to go home. I want to take you on a date to the place we met.” Going back to The Hideout would be romantic, but it was probably still a dive.

Going on a date would be fun. They’d made a lot of memories at The Hideout. Eddie would never forget the first time he saw Steve’s face in the crowd, how preppy and out of place he’d looked surrounded by drunks in ripped jeans and leather, watching the band play—watching Eddie. But he’d fallen into place with them so quickly. The perfect fit.

Eddie smirked. “I fully expect you to get up on the stage and serenade me,” he joked. “Better get busy writing me a love song.”

Steve’s heart fluttered. “I think serenading you is all I’ve ever been doing.” He laughed at the realization. He loved to sing, but seeing Eddie’s reaction to him doing it almost brought the same amount of pleasure. “It’s funny that you think I’ll have to write one and don’t already have one up my sleeve.”

Steve had written about Eddie before, but now he had a hell of a lot more material.

Somehow, Steve had managed to turn his joke into the most romantic thing Eddie had ever heard. He didn't even have a response. Damn Steve and his smoothness.

“Its been so long since I’ve been home,” Steve added. “I think the pups will be happy to see us, though I guess none of them are really pups anymore.” Steve laughed and rubbed his hands over his face. He was always going to feel like the pupsitter.

Eddie’s smirk softened into a smile. Steve’s pups. Not his biological ones, but basically adopted. Eddie had herded them into the fold, but Steve was the one who’d taken care of them like the protective Alpha mother he was.

“I wanna fuck you at skull rock, too.”

“Oh, the famous skull rock.” Eddie turned his head and kissed Steve’s palm, then nipped it playfully. He batted his eyelashes. “Take me to prom, too? I’ll wear your corsage.”

He was sure his prom experience, had he had one, would’ve been much more fun with Steve on his arm.

“Yes, that skull rock. The one that I made famous.” Steve leaned up to nuzzle Eddie and nibbled on him for the palm bites he received. God, he was so insatiable now that he had gotten a taste. “Of course I’ll take you to prom! Good thing I got that pesky virginity thing out of the way. We’ll probably both be crowned prom kings.”

It was a fun fantasy to think about. He’d taken Nancy to prom, and he was crowned Prom King, but Tammy Thompson had been Prom Queen—which reminded him that Robin was going to fucking die when she found out that he’d claimed Eddie.

“I’m okay with being a queen,” Eddie said. He sat up, making them both groan, and motioned to his ass. “Clearly.”

Steve’s knot was fully deflated now, and Eddie’s legs were starting to go tingly from being folded so long. Eddie slowly lifted himself off. He didn’t want to be empty, but he had no doubt it wouldn't be for long.

Steve groaned softly when Eddie dismounted. He felt at home inside of him, but his knot had deflated, so they weren’t tied anymore. They had just been chatting away in the afterglow anyway.

He watched Eddie gracefully saunter over to the bathroom door even though Steve’s come was trickling down his legs. It was a sight for his sore eyes. He couldn’t wait to fill him up again and again.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, turning on his best British accent. “I’m filthy, your highness. Does the king care to join me for a royal bathing?”

Steve grinned at the invitation and leapt up to join him in the bathroom. He gathered Eddie’s hair to the side so they could see Steve’s mark on him in the mirror. Steve rumbled. He was so proud of it and Eddie.

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle protectively as Eddie checked it out. Steve squeezed him tightly and kissed all over his bite. “Mine.” 

[metyouinthehallway]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠…

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫!𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬

જ⁀➴ Stuck in my ways - partynextdoor. Long drives. Bartender. Doesn’t drink. Nonchalant as fuck. Slowly falling for stripper!reader. Yapper. Tom Ford, Ombré leather. Homebody. Never late for a shift. Protects the dancers like his life depends on it.

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

જ⁀➴ Youforia - Mac Miller. Party girl. Stoner. Brown lip gloss. Juliette has a gun, not a perfume. Stiletto nails. Life of the party. Fluffy coats. Hates her job. Dirty martinis. Girls girl. Shopping sprees. Prada.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠,

You let out an exaggerated sigh, your breath misting in the cool, damp air. Pulling open the back door, you make your way down the hallway and into the dressing room. The chatter of the other girls talking about their usual clients and what dances they plan on doing tonight fills the florescent lit room.

“Hey,” you smile at your coworker. Sitting in your chair, you pull out your makeup bag beginning to touch up your makeup. Luckily, you’d worn your skimpy outfit underneath a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants so you didn’t need to change today.

“Saturday night! You excited?” Your coworker asks as she draws a line of glue on her false lash. You nod in response, setting the concealer beneath your eyes.

Saturdays are the busy days. The most money but the worst customers. Rich businessmen would drop any amount of money if it meant they’d get a private dance from you. Offering to buy your ‘love’ as if they didn’t have wives of their own waiting for them at home.

“Sure…” you draw out the word, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. The both of you go back to your own makeup routines, women applying heaps of lotion to their legs behind you.

You finish your makeup, pulling off your comfortable clothes to reveal the lewd outfit hidden underneath it. You glance at yourself in the mirror, knowing damn well you look sexy. Looking good meant performing good and performing good meant money.

Walking out to the floor, Purple and red neon lights flooding your vision as you head straight to the bar first. Chris, the bartender, nods at you and begins pouring you a shot of vodka.

“Hey pretty, it’s busy tonight.” He hands you the small glass. Downing the shot, you hand it back to him, opening your mouth to respond.

“Mhm… trust, I’ll be back for another shot. Or two… or three.” Chris shoots you a sympathetic smile, adjusting his ball cap. He watches as you trot your way to the stage.

The whistles and cat calls of half hard men are heard over the thrumming bass line that bounces off the club walls. Putting on a performance face, you step onto the platform, twirling around the pole a few times.

You don’t look at the men, you never do. It disgusts you, the fact that this was how they relaxed. Some of them visiting at least three times a week. Instead, you watch Chris, watch him serve the sober, watch as he falsely laughs at the same three jokes that he’s told.

Three private dances and one absolute creep later, the night stills. Most of the dancers had already left but you stayed and counted up your cash at the bar top. Chris stood on the other side of the bar, cleaning out the last of the used glassware.

You have stacks upon stacks of cash from tonight alone. Those idiots would willingly go bankrupt for a fucking lap dance and it shows.

“For you,” Chris smiles warmly, placing a martini glass in front of you. A toothpick which impaled two green olives was leaning against the inside of the glass. He had made your favorite, a dirty martini.

“Thanks.” You reply, it coming out more dry than intended. The bartender leans against the counter, resting his chin on his hands and cocking a brow at you. “I’m fine,” assuring him with the dry huff of a laugh, you continue counting the cash you’d earned.

“Don’t look it. What’s got you so upset t’night?” Chris presses his lips together, waiting for a response.

He’s been working at this damned club since you first started two years ago, always been nothing short of respectful to you. Taking time to converse with you after you perform, making sure no customer ever made you feel uncomfortable or laid their hands on you. Shit, if a man in this club ever laid hands on any of you dancers, Chris would go ballistic. You’ve heard plenty of stories.

Working in a strip club, you’d assume most men only did it for one reason. Chris didn’t though, He was here simply because the money was good. He never eyed any of you up and down, never hit on you. He was incredibly reverent when it came to you dancers.

“Just tired, it’s hard work, y’know.” You frown, bundling a stack of twenties and shoving it into your money bag. Resting your head against your palm, you toy with the toothpick, sucking off an olive. “Shits actually exhausting.”

“Well, you know I admire it. Not in a fucked up, perverted way. But like, damn, I sure as hell couldn’t do that.” Chris stutters over his words slightly. Straightening out his posture, he returns to cleaning out the bar glasses.

You nod, understanding what point he’s trying to get across. Quickly chugging the cocktail that’s meant to be sipped on, you stand up from the bar stool, about ready to leave for the night.

“You okay to drive? Y’drank a lot more than usual tonight.” Chris inquires. He always seems to pick up on the smallest things, like the slight frown on your face as you sat at the bar.

“I’m chill.” You answer, standing up from the bar stool, you collect your tips, bagging the rest of it and tucking it under your bare arm.

“Better safe than sorry. Let me take ya home.” He finishes the last of the dishes, drying off his hands and padding himself down for his keys.

Willingly, you agree. This is Chris, the bartender after all. He wouldn’t let anything harm you. “Yeah, just let me go grab my stuff.” You motioned to the back room, disappearing to clothe yourself and grab your belongings.

Respectfully, he waits outside the room for you. Leading the both of you out to his car, a sleek black coupe with tinted windows... Sexy. He’s taken you home a multitude of times in the past, each time he’d ask you about your life outside of work and you’d do the same to him. You thoroughly enjoyed the drives with him actually. Getting to know him on more than a workplace level, It was refreshing.

The ride to your home is calm, the soft beat of R&B plays throughout his car speakers while he tells you about the bizarre customers he’d dealt with tonight.

“I told the guy he was cut off ‘n he deadass growled at me. Like a fuckin’ dog!” He laughs blandly at the memory, his eyes never leaving the road in front of them.

“No way… god, I hate working at a club. Being considered slut and shit.” You admit, the thought that only consumed the crevices of your brain finally setting themselves free on your lips. It felt as though an anvil had been lifted off of your chest.

“I don’t think you’re a slut at all, actually. I know it’s a good way to rake in money so I don’t blame ya.” He defends, slowing down at a stop sign ahead. Chris looks at you for a moment before continuing the journey to you home.

"Well, thanks. Gets the bills paid and shit but that's about it." You reply, picking at a loose thread on your sweatshirt.

The rest of the drive is mostly silent, Chris would occasionally rap a few verses to himself and you'd hum along to the songs you knew.

"Call me before you come into work tomorrow, I'll give you a ride." He offers, since he basically stripped you of your car tonight.

Tomorrow. It seemed so far away but it’d only be a few short hours before you had to wake up and repeat the cycle all over again.

“Thanks, bartender.” You tease, earning a small chuckle from Chris. He watches as you make your way to your front door and doesn’t drive away until he’s sure you’re inside and safe.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

A/n: My first au! Omg I have soooo many ideas already pleaaaase send asks about them I’d love to answer

[wholoveseggs]

Indulgences

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Part One

Elijah's red door is cracked open and his heart broken, so naturally Klaus takes him to a strip club to cheer him up.

~♡♡ This is part one of a series I've been writing inspired by a @klausysworld post about Elijah being in a pretty woman-esque scenario ♡♡~

3k words - Warnings: light smut, red door elijah {my interpretation of him}, drug use, adult themes, domestic abuse, violence, blood drinking.

{Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

"Laadiieess! Two whales just walked in!" Stacy announced, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she rushed into the dressing room. You were applying a new layer of lipstick in the mirror when you caught her eyes in the reflection.

"Who are they? Any hot ones?" You asked, spinning around to face her. She smirked, her eyebrows arching up.

"Oh yeah, they are brothers; I overheard Mitch talking to them out there. They're filthy rich and super hot. I heard their last name, uh, Mikaelson. That sounds familiar, don't it?" Stacy replied, adjusting her breasts in the mirror.

"I've heard other clients talk about them; they are gangsters or something. Powerful ones, like mafia-type shit," Tonya chimed in from her relaxed position in a chair, looking at her phone, her long legs gracefully draped over the arm, stiletto heels pointed in the air.

"Ooh, really? Sounds intriguing." You hummed, glancing at yourself in the mirror again. You adjusted your strapless corset, smoothed out your black lace panties, and straightened your black thigh-high stockings secured by a garter belt. Your boyfriend Jordan had bought you the lingerie; he told you the outfit would make more clients want to buy lap dances from you.

"They booked the platinum suite for the whole night; that's ten grand right there," Stacy revealed with an excited gleam in her eyes.

"Damn, it's been months since we had clients who could afford that kind of luxury," Tonya replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

"They want a private show and a lot of drinks." Stacy added; you could tell she was excited. She loved big spenders, especially the ones who gave big tips.

"Alright, I'll take them; I could use the cash." You chimed in, smoothing down your hair and checking your makeup one more time.

"Just hold on a minute; this isn't some regular party. Mitch is coming by to pick, so sit tight, sweetie." Stacy warned, her eyes narrowing at you. You frowned, Stacy was always acting like the boss, even though she was just a dancer like you.

More girls came filing into the change room, the news of the two hot, rich clients spread rapidly through the club's grapevine. They were all whispering among themselves, gossiping about the clients.

"I heard that they run this town and can have anyone killed, like snap their fingers and a dead body would appear the next day," whispered a younger girl named Tiffany.

"You know that bigwig Marcel? He's like their right hand; he does anything they tell him to," replied another girl named Samantha, tall and blonde.

"So, are they, like, dangerous?" Tiffany asked.

"Of course not, don't worry, doll. If they are, I'll protect you,” Tonya cooed, wrapping an arm around Tiffany's shoulder.

"That's if Mitch picks you, which is unlikely; he wants the best of the best for them. You know, ones with discretion," Stacy said with a laugh as she reapplied her mascara.

"Fuck you, Stacy," Tonya snapped, rolling her eyes.

A few minutes later, Mitch arrived in the change room. He was the owner of the strip club, a sleazy man who always wore a suit and had a cigar hanging from his mouth. He eyed the girls up and down, a sick grin spreading on his face. He enjoyed the power he had over the girls, being able to choose which one got the private clients. He knew how badly they all needed the cash.

"Alright, ladies, I'm sure you all heard the good news. We have a couple of VIP clients here tonight. You know the drill, line up," Mitch said, gesturing to the lineup spot in the back of the dressing room.

You all stood in line, a mixture of nerves and excitement swirling inside you. Clients like this could net you a ton of cash, and a ton of cash meant your rent paid, groceries on your table, and perhaps even a bit left over for some pills. You felt yourself growing nervous as you watched Mitch eyeing the girls. You already owed Jordan a ton of money for some drugs; he had been threatening you recently, telling you he would kick you out of the apartment if you didn't get him the cash. You needed a client like this, and the sooner, the better.

You watched as Mitch walked up and down the line of girls, taking a sip from his glass of scotch every now and then. He looked over each girl, sizing them up, picking at someone's outfit, hair, or makeup, shaking his head or sighing before moving on to the next.

"Come on, Mitch, stop playing us like this," Stacy groaned, rolling her eyes. Mitch chuckled.

"Shut it, or I won't pick you, and they are big tippers," he threatened. Stacy scowled, her eyes narrowing, but she fell silent.

Finally, Mitch reached the end of the line and paused; his eyes landed on you. His smile widened, and his eyes lit up.

"Yes, you'll do just fine," he hummed. He reached out and patted your butt, causing you to flinch.

"Alright, Stacy, Tonya, and Y/N, go to the platinum room and take care of the boys. They have requested privacy, so no interruptions, got it? And I want them happy, you get me?" Mitch added, looking at you with lust-filled eyes.

"Of course," Stacy replied, smirking. Tonya smiled and nodded her head.

"Good, go out there and get them drunk," Mitch instructed.

As you and the other girls prepared to head to the platinum room, the door creaked open, and Jordan sauntered in with an air of confidence. He was wearing nice clothes and smelled like cologne. A wide grin spread across his face as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the half-naked girls. He whistled, making a few girls giggle.

"Look at my pretty girls, all dressed up and ready to dance for some filthy rich clients. I'm jealous." He chuckled, running a hand through his slicked-back hair.

"Oh, you're jealous, baby? Don't worry, I'll save some dances for you later," you cooed, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiled and pressed a kiss to your lips, his hand on your ass.

"I brought something to help you girls relax," he said, holding up a small baggy of pills, you're drug of choice when you danced, molly.

"Ooh, thank you, babe," you said, kissing him again before taking a pill and dry swallowing it. The other girls came over and took a pill, giggling and thanking Jordan.

"You're the best, Jordy," Stacy purred, rubbing his arm and giving him a seductive smile.

"Anything for my favorite girls," he replied, winking at her.

"Alright, now get up there and earn me some money," he said, giving your butt a light smack.

You walked out of the change room and followed the girls down the hall, towards the platinum suite. The blaring music and vibrating bass filled the air, making your heart beat fast and palms sweaty. In the dim lights and smoke, you could see the writhing bodies of the other girls dancing on the stages and in the cages, and the cheering of the male audience as they waved dollar bills in the air.

"Alright, let's do this," Tonya hummed, reaching out and opening the door.

The room was dark, illuminated by blue and purple lights casting a soft glow. Leather couches lined the walls, a circular platform with a pole stood in the middle and a small bar was in the corner. A low beat played in the background. The two VIPs sat on the couch, their features partially obscured.

"Welcome, ladies," an accented voice hummed as the door shut behind you, and you could feel his eyes on you.

"Hi, boys, my name is Stacy, and this is Tonya, and Y/N," Stacy purred, stepping towards them. You watched her hips sway as she moved.

Despite sharing some features, they didn't look much like brothers. Both incredibly handsome, the one who spoke had curly blonde hair and a cocky smirk, while the other had darker hair with a brooding look on his face.

"Hello, gorgeous," The blonde one hummed, his voice smooth, there was something about them that seemed inherently dangerous.

"What can we get you boys? Drinks?" Tonya asked, taking a seat next to the blonde one as Stacy took to the stage.

The three of you had a simple but effective routine, with one dancing while the others entertained the clients. It was a tried and tested method, one you had used many times. Your job was less about seduction and more about understanding what the clients wanted. Some wanted a sexy show, others wanted to chat, and some wanted a more personal experience. You had learned how to read people, knowing which ones were the best tippers and which ones to stay away from.

"Bring me a bottle of your best scotch, and glasses for us, love," the blonde one said, his smirk widening.

"Absolutely, handsome. Anything for you, darling?" Tonya replied, looking at the brooding one.

"Whatever my brother is having will be fine, thank you," he replied, his tone polite.

Tonya's eyes darted from the blonde one to you, signaling that she wanted to approach the blonde one. Which was fine with you; the shy brooding ones were your specialty.

"I'll be right back," Tonya hummed as she stood up and walked over to the bar, where she grabbed a bottle and some glasses.

You moved to the brooding one, sitting down next to him. You could see the muscles under his suit and the sharpness of his jaw.

"And what's your name?" You purred, putting on your seductive persona.

"Elijah," he replied, his dark eyes roaming over you.

"Nice to meet you, Elijah, I'm Y/N," you said, offering him your hand. He took it and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

"Lovely to meet you, Y/N," Elijah murmured, a small smile gracing his face.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you smiled back. Something about Elijah made you feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. You couldn't deny that he was incredibly handsome. As the song changed, you felt the familiar buzz of the drugs flowing through your veins, making your body tingle. You looked over at Tonya, who was giving the blonde one a lap dance. She made eye contact with you and winked, signaling for you to keep the conversation going.

"This would be more fun if you took off your suit jacket, hm?" You suggested, reaching out and playing with the buttons.

"I'll leave it on for now," he said softly, his eyes darkening as he watched you touch him.

"Don't mind him; my brother isn't the biggest fan of these types of places, and he's a bit broken-hearted," the blonde one said, chuckling as he looked over at Elijah.

"Klaus," Elijah hissed, his eyes narrowing. Klaus chuckled again.

"Who broke your heart, handsome?" You purred, scooting closer to him.

"His girl married someone else," Klaus chimed in before downing his scotch.

Elijah scowled, his jaw clenching, before he looked at you.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he muttered, his eyes darting away.

"That's okay; we don't have to talk at all," You hummed, moving onto his lap, straddling him. You could feel the bulge in his pants, and you smirked. He wasn't unaffected by you, no matter how cold he seemed. Elijah's breath hitched, and his eyes widened. He was tense under you, but he didn't try to move away.

You could hear Klaus chuckling in the background, clearly amused by the situation. He had his hands all over Tonya, whispering in her ear as she grinded on him.

You ran your hands down Elijah's chest, your fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"What would you like to do, handsome? We can talk, or I can dance, or we could do other things," you hummed, your voice soft.

Elijah's gaze darkened, his eyes flickering down to your breasts before they darted back up to your face.

"You can dance," he murmured, his voice thick.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to work with the shy ones, to give them what they wanted without them having to admit it.

"Sure thing, handsome," you hummed, climbing off of him. You stepped onto the stage, and Stacy moved away, grabbing her drink from the side of the platform. She winked at you and gestured to the pole before taking a seat next to Klaus. Elijah's eyes were on you, the dim light reflecting in his dark irises. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were gripping the leather couch. You smirked as you wrapped your hand around the cool metal pole, feeling it under your palm. You felt the molly pulsing through your veins and you started to move, your body moving fluidly and sensually, your muscles tensing and flexing. You could feel Elijah's gaze on you, his eyes roaming over your body. You turned your head and made eye contact with him, giving him a coy smile.

"Do you like what you see?" You teased, biting your lower lip. Elijah's eyes flickered up to yours, his gaze intense.

"Yes, you are very beautiful," he replied, his voice low. Your heart fluttered, and you smiled. You usually didn't care what a client thought of you, but there was something about Elijah that made you want to please him. You continued to dance, the song changing, and the bass pounding in your ears. Klaus was enjoying his time with Tonya, who had removed her bra, her breasts inches from his face. Stacy was chatting with him, laughing and touching his arm. The three of you were experts at reading the room; Klaus was clearly the type who liked his girls all over him, while Elijah seemed like the type who liked to watch. So the three of you adjusted, keeping up with their preferences. You kept your attention focused on Elijah; his gaze was intense, his eyes tracking your every move.

You danced for the next hour, the men enjoying the show. Klaus was clearly drunk and was all over Stacy and Tonya, whispering in their ears and touching them. They were laughing and playing along, hundred-dollar bills tucked into their g-strings. Elijah removed his suit jacket, the room becoming too warm for him. Your eyes roamed his body, enjoying the way his shirt stretched over his muscles.

"I'm glad to see you are relaxing, brother," Klaus hummed, his smirk widening.

You stepped off the stage and walked towards Elijah, sitting back down in his lap. You unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side. His eyes darted down to your breasts, and you saw his jaw clench. You smirked, leaning forward and pressing yourself against his chest. He inhaled sharply, his hands moving to your waist. You took his hands and brought them up to your breasts, encouraging him to touch you.

"You can touch me, handsome. You have my permission," you whispered, a mischievous glint in your eye. Elijah's breath hitched, and his hands hesitantly caressed your breasts.

"They're soft," he breathed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

"I'm glad you like them," you murmured, smiling.

"Are you enjoying yourself, brother? Having a good time?" Klaus asked, his voice teasing. Stacy was slowly grinding on his lap, his hands gripping her ass.

"Mmhmm," Elijah hummed, his eyes not leaving your chest. You giggled, pressing a kiss to his neck. You could feel his pulse quickening under your lips.

"I'm glad," Klaus replied, his eyes meeting yours. There was a darkness in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat.

"I think he's enjoying himself, don't you?" Tonya purred, a smirk on her face as she watched the scene unfold.

"Oh, yes, I think he is," Stacy agreed.

"You should kiss me, Elijah," you hummed, cupping his cheek and leaning in. He hesitated, his eyes wide, his heart racing.

"Go on, brother. Kiss the girl," Klaus urged, his tone playful. Elijah's brow furrowed, but he didn't argue. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. His kiss was gentle, tentative, his hands cupping your face.

"You can kiss me harder; I won't break," you breathed, pressing your lips against his.

"You could," he replied, and something about his tone made you wonder what he meant. There was a deep sadness in his eyes, a loneliness that resonated with you.

He kissed you again, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you close, his hands exploring your body, touching your bare skin. He was a fantastic kisser, his lips moving against yours, his tongue invading your mouth. You've had hot clients before, ones that smell nice and feel good, but this was different. There was an energy between you and Elijah that made you ache for more.

You heard a strange sound coming from the direction of the others, and you pulled back, looking over. Your eyes widened, your heart stopping. Stacy was unconscious in Klaus' arms, his mouth was on her neck, his teeth sinking into her skin. Tonya was on the floor, blood trickling down her neck, staining the white marble floor.

Fear flooded your veins, and you began to scream, but Elijah covered your mouth with his hand, silencing you. You struggled against him, terror coursing through your body. He was strong, too strong, his arms wrapping around you, holding you still.

"Relax, sweetheart; you are safe with me. My brother is just a tad greedy," Elijah's voice was calm and soothing. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you felt your fear instantly dissolve. It left you feeling strange, like you were in some sort of trance. You couldn't move, couldn't speak; all you could do was stare into Elijah's deep brown eyes and feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"There, now, isn't that better?" Elijah's voice was hypnotic, lulling you into a peaceful state. You nodded, a small smile on your face.

"Good, that's good," he murmured, a pleased expression on his face. You could still see Stacy and Tonya in your peripheral vision, their bodies motionless, blood pooling on the floor. You knew you should scream, run, call security—anything. But all you could do was sit there, a serene look on your face, Elijah's voice echoing in your mind.

"Such a lovely creature, you are," Elijah's voice was smooth and hypnotic, his hands caressing your skin. His shyness was completely gone, replaced with a calm, confident demeanor. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles, a gesture that sent strange butterflies through your stomach.

"May I?" Elijah's voice was gentle as he brought his lips to your wrist. You didn't understand what he was asking, but you nodded anyway, the words trapped in your throat. Elijah smiled, a genuine smile, and his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your wrist. He looked up at you, his dark eyes capturing yours, and his teeth pierced your flesh.

It wasn't painful; it felt like a gentle sting, and then a warm, pleasant sensation spread through your body. You were transfixed by his face, his eyes turned completely black, and gray veins appeared underneath his eyes. Elijah's lips were soft, and his tongue was warm as he licked the blood from your wrist, his fangs gently scraping your skin. It was strangely erotic; his movements were sensual, his lips sucking on your skin, drawing more blood from the wound. He pulled back, a drop of crimson liquid falling from his lips.

"Interesting," he murmured, his eyes turning back to normal. "What drugs have you done? I can taste it," he asked, licking his lips.

"Uh, a little ecstasy," you replied, your voice soft and dreamy. He chuckled, and his lips found their way to your neck. His tongue traced the artery, his teeth ghosting over your skin. You shivered, your hands finding their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands.

"You're not a gangster, are you?" you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips.

"No, darling, I'm not," he chuckled, his breath warm against your neck.

"Are Tonya and Stacy dead?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"No, they will be fine, and they will be well compensated," Elijah replied, his voice soft and reassuring. "And so will you," he added, his hand gently tracing the lines of your face. You could see Klaus finishing up with Stacy, licking her wounds. He bit his own wrist and poured his blood into his glass, then into the mouths of both women. He smirked, satisfied with himself, and you watched as the bite marks on them healed.

"I don't understand," you said, confused.

"We aren't gangsters, darling; we are something far worse," Elijah said, his lips finding yours again. He kissed you, his lips gentle and warm, his hands caressing your body. He bit down on his own lip, drawing blood, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You tasted the metallic tang of his blood, and you found yourself moaning. He pulled away, his lips curled into a smirk, and his eyes dark.

"W-what are you?" you whispered, fear and desire mingling in your heart.

"It doesn't matter; you will forget all this soon enough," he said, his tone soothing.

"You certainly like that one," Klaus hummed, watching as Elijah gently kissed you again.

"I have an affinity for lost causes," Elijah replied, a soft smile on his face. 

You found yourself back in the dressing room, looking down at multiple neat stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills. You couldn't remember when you received the money; all you could recall was Elijah's warm brown eyes.

Tonya and Stacy were sitting next to you, the two of them counting the money, giddy as they recounted the events.

"Twenty thousand each, can you believe it?" Stacy asked, her eyes wide.

"We didn't even have to sleep with them," Tonya added, grinning.

"Classy gentlemen they were, didn't try anything," Stacy continued, a dreamy look in her eye.

"Elijah was sweet, shy, but sweet," Tonya hummed.

"And Klaus was so charming," Stacy giggled.

"How much did you make?" Tonya asked, nudging you.

"I'm not sure; I was kind of out of it," you replied, shrugging.

"I'm tired too, I was having so much fun with them I totally lost track of time," Stacy said, yawning.

You looked down at the cash, your fingers grazing the crisp bills. You couldn't remember the last time you'd had this much money, and you could tell the other girls were struggling with the same thought.

"Just a few hours of pouring drinks and a lap dance, and now I can buy a new car," Stacy mused, a contented smile on her face.

"A new outfit, new shoes, fuck a new wardrobe!" Tonya chimed in, a gleam in her eyes.

You counted your money, thirty thousand dollars. You usually earned that much in six months, if you were lucky. You had no idea why the two men had given you so much money, and you didn't want to know.

{Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}