#the more time i sink into this game the worse it gets

[umilily]

they ever make a character so disgustingly your type that it feels like a targeted attack?

[memorys-skyscraper]

fuck the new year, everyone say happy birthday ichiban kasuga!!!!!

[giamee]

𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 '𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐓!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🍭 )

he just can't get enough of your pussy !

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | 🚨🚨🚨SMUT !! (f!reader receiving oral & fingering), uhhh pussydrunk hsr men who are MUNCHES <3, i think this is the first time writing smut on this blog so hereee we gooo, uhh clit slapping (only once thanks blade), overstim, nothin toooo crazy, ever so slight dom!reader for sampo (that man needs to get topped so bad) + you call him a pervert idk, squirting (shoutout luocha 😙)

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ I HAVENT WRITTEN SMUT IN AGESSSS SO PLS BE NICE AND TO MY MUTUALS SORRY THT THIS SHOWS UP ON YOUR DASHBOARD LETS STILL BE FRIENDS PLS 😭

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 JING YUAN.

this is a dangerous game when he's involved

as a general, jing yuan is very accustomed to being in charge, of taking charge and ensuring that things happen

and as a man who cares more about the hours outside of his work than during, who can blame him for wanting to commemorate each time that he comes home to you?

he's always been very giving as a lover, that much is true. and as a man with a tendency to be more on the... spontaneous side, you were no stranger to a quickie in a slightly less than convenient location. he just couldn't bear to leave you uncared for, after all.

so really, you should have expected that he would quite literally stoop to this level. one minute he was walking through the front door, you calling out a greeting to him from the sink as you washed some dishes.

and the next minute, he was on his knees behind you, your skirt flipped up over your hips and panties tugged to the side as he began to eat you out with some type of renewed fervour.

it had you slapping one hand over your mouth, the other white-knuckled as you hold on for dear life to the kitchen counter. your legs were very quickly turning to jelly due to his ministrations, the feeling of his tongue fucking into you rendering you unable to form sentences.

and even worse than the sensation was the sound of it- every lick and slurp reverbating through the empty room, every squelch of your pussy making you go a shade darker as jing yuan moaned, the bastard, and delved even further into your pussy. your hips pushed against him, his hands snaking their way around your thighs to keep you pinned in place while he ate you out like his life depended on it.

you bit back a squeal as you felt his tongue flick against your clit before running back through your folds, circling the hole before fucking back into you.

"fuck, i love this pussy so much," he moaned out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he came up for air momentarily. "love comin' home to you every day- you taste so good, so good f'me-"

any attempts at muffling your noises were extinguished as you let out a sob, tears welling up from the pleasure, making you fold over so that your torso rested against the counter. your legs were spread wide by now, giving jing yuan all the access that he needed.

he relinquished one of your thighs in favour of using his fingers to pump into you, curling them just right against that spongy spot that had you shaking like a leaf, feeling the pressure build inside you much quicker than you anticipated.

"fuck- fuck- i can't, 's so good-" you were babbling now, trying in vain to break free or push his head away, the pleasure bordering on too much. it was comically easy how ineffective your attempts to hinder him were,

"you can." his voice was some soothing reprieve, and the warmth of his hands squeezing against your hips helped to ground you as he otherwise brought you to the edge.

your thighs were trembling, barely supporting your weight and you could feel your release fast approaching, though something was holding you back.

"cum f'me." jing yuan's rasped voice is what finally coaxed you to let go, to let that string snap with a final cry as you collapsed fully against the countertop.

always diligent, jing yuan continued to eat you out, making sure not to miss a drop as you spasmed against him, hips finally stilling after you ride out your high.

"bastard." your voice is muffled, head resting on your forearms as your regain your strength. jing yuan merely chuckles, placing a kiss with his wet lips to your inner thigh again, one last jolt of pleasure running through you before he stands, fixing your clothes for you.

"but you love it."

you give him a halfhearted kick in the shin.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 SAMPO.

he's the type of man who's best in small doses

the amount of times you get annoyed while he's on another tangent or trying to scam you sell you a product is..... a bit more than infrequent

but there's ways around that

"sampo, do you ever shut up?"

ironically enough, you asking him that made him do just that, pausing for a second to lick his lips as his smile widened, cheshire-like, as you watched the cogs turn in his head.

"no, but for a small standalone price-"

if youuu put a buck in my cup i will shut the fuck up (sorry)

"sampo."

the man cackles, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to his side.

"sorry, doll, but a man has to make a living somehow."

you turn to glare at him now. you really weren't in the mood.

"either shut up or i'll make you."

you watch as his smile drops for just a second, his pupils dilating ever so slightly at the underlying hint of what's to come. and bless his heart, the man decided to push his luck.

approximately five minutes later, you were grinding on his face. the only noises that he really made now were occasional grunts and moans as you rocked back and forth, and you decided that you liked him much better when he wasn't talking.

the man with a silver tongue had his uses, after all.

he was so eager to please, too- from what you could tell with the way he was eating you out. if it weren't for the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling, you would be convinced that he was enjoying it more than you. his moans reverberated around your clit as his tongue flicked over and sucked it, leaving you keeling over and your thighs quaking against the sides of his head.

every moan you let out had him eating you out with a renewed fervour, almost desperate for you to reach your high. you let your hand snake into his hair, getting a full handful before yanking on it, hard. sampo whines from the sensation, and you almost miss the muffled plea for you to do it "again".

his fingertips are digging into your thighs almost painfully, keeping you seated firmly against him (not that you were going to move, anyway).

your eyes land on the tent in his boxers, and an idea pops into your head as you snake your hand past his abdomen to pull his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. it looked painfully hard, the tip already leaking pearls of precum, and you spat in your hand before starting to jerk him off, ever so slowly.

he whined again at the pressure, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand, desperate for any sort of friction.

"you're getting off to this, you pervert?" you laughed as he shook his head desperately, still plunging his tongue deep inside you even as his hips bucked wildly. he was already so close, it almost made you laugh.

you yourself were beginning to feel the coil deep within you start to tighten, a telltale sign that your own orgasm was approaching.

"so if i were to just... stop, you wouldn't mind?" to emphasise your point, you loosened your grip on him, grinning to yourself as he whined pathetically.

"hm... that's what i thought."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 BLADE.

blade's mean when he eats you out

he's one of those who eats it for his own pleasure, and whether it's until you orgasm once or multiple times, he's not stopping until he's satisfied, overstimulation be damned

"you still alive there?" the man between your thighs snickers at your fucked-out state, not even able to form a sentence to answer him.

how many times had he made you cum by now? six? seven? you'd lost count long ago, and you don't think it mattered much to blade. sometime after the second one, it began to dawn on you that his goal wasn't to simply make you cum then call it a day.

"c'mon, eyes on me." you squeal at the sensation of his hand slapping down against your clit, the raw flesh stinging for a few moments before his hand smooths it over, soothing the skin.

"you can handle one more, right?" you lift your head weakly to meet his ravenous eyes, somehow even hungrier than when he had first started peeling your clothes off. the look in his eyes made a shiver run down your skin, and you gave him a sheepish nod.

"attagirl."

blade's one to keep you on your toes, never knowing just what to expect from him. he ducks his head down, leveling it with your still pulsing hole, and you gasp as you hear, then feel him spit on it.

there's a blunt intrusion as he sinks two of his fingers into you, knuckles deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot inside you. your leg twitches as an automatic response, making the man snicker again.

"you're so sensitive," he coos, and you hide your embarrassed face with your arm. "i bet if i just..." your body seizes up as you cum, again, more sudden than you ever expected as blade presses harder against you. a strangled moan flies out of your mouth, writhing at the pressure.

he's nice enough to let you ride out your high, pathetically grinding your clit against his palm, whimpering at the tenfold sensitivity and the little aftershocks wracking your body.

and when you're finally breathing normally again, you hear his voice break you out of your stupor.

"one more?"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

what he lacks in experience is made up for doubly in enthusiasm

because let's be real, this man is too busy with the silvermane guards to have enough time to be dating and fucking around

but for you? he'd make the time. and he'd learn how to get you off while he's at it, too

"so if you just, slide your fingers in, slowly." gepard follows your instructions dutifully, and even then you still winced at the feeling of his large fingers stretching you out, the slightest of burns already kicking in.

"like this?" he looks up at you, all puppy dog eyes, so eager to learn. his face was too innocent for what he was doing.

"mhmm." you smile down at him, his face rested against one of your thighs as his gaze returns to your cunt, glued to the way it stretches around his digits. he feels you pulse against him and he shudders, trying to hold back for your sake. he was here to learn what you liked, after all.

"and then you kind of... curl them a bit? and move them too." his ministrations are soft to begin with, and even there's still an unmistakeable squelch each time he pumps his fingers into you, the lewdness of it all making him turn pink.

"does that feel good?"

"y-yeah, so good, baby."

he's so close to your pussy, you can feel each time he breathes, his little pants hitting your clit, making you even wetter. the anticipation of it all had you practically squirming where you lay propped up on your elbows, watching him.

his eyes are still transfixed on you, mouth hanging open at the way your hips rolled ever so slightly, meeting each of his shallow thrusts.

"you see that bit above? if you lick it, it'll feel really good f'me." gepard nods, all too eagerly leaning forward, licking a thick stripe from your hole to the clit with his tongue, before starting to flick his tongue against it gingerly.

"yeah, fuck, you're good at this." he hums against you, starting to move his tongue with a little more fervour, his hand still pumping into you. he always had been a fast learner.

he settles into a rhythm, one that has you steadily building the pressure in your core, soft moans escaping your lips.

"just like that, fuuuck," you pant out, letting your head roll back and your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling. it's then when gepard decides to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking ever so deliciously to make your toes curl.

you let out a particularly loud moan at the sensation, one that your ever so perceptive boyfriend latches onto, increasing the pressure in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"geppie m'gonna cum- don't stop-" he obeys your every word, slurping at your cunt with a hunger that sends you over the edge. you convulse, hips raising off of the mattress to buck against his face, his fingers curling around your quaking thighs.

"use my face, darling," he murmurs into you, so eager to please. the way the ridge of his nose bumps against your clit helps you ride out your high, grinding against his mouth a few more times before you finally flop back down against, the bed, limbs turning to jelly.

"no fucking way that was your first time eating someone out." gepard merely grins, wiping some of your juices off of his face before crawling up the bed to meet you.

"'m sure it was, now give me a kiss."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 LUOCHA.

your life will be CHANGED after this man eats u out for the first time i just know it

like.. he's got skills. he's a certified munch i know this in my SOULLLLL

"just relax, honey, let me take care of you." his velveteen voice is what has you finally lying back, letting the tension in your body leave you as his nimble fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, sliding them off of your legs ever so tantalisingly.

he groans at the string of slick that stays connected to them- no surprises there as you had been sat on his lap kissing him for the past half an hour- and you covered your face in embarrassment.

"don't go shy on me now, hm?" you peek between your fingers, catching the glint of his emerald eyes, the way his smile widens when he makes eye contact with you from his place between your legs.

"hi, pretty."

"hi."

"we can go as slow as you want, okay? tell me what you're comfortable with." luocha's thumbs rub gentle circles into your thighs, coaxing you to open them and let him settle more comfortably.

"do you want me to touch you?" you nod, watching as luocha's smirks almost imperceptibly.

"use your words, darling." you whine, kicking at him lightly.

"quit teasing me."

"do you want my fingers or my tongue?"

"luocha!" he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

"i'm sorry, love, you're just so cute when you're flustered." he presses another kiss to your thigh now, lips inching upwards ever so slowly, holding himself back as he waits for your go-ahead.

"could you... eat me out?" your face feels so warm just from asking the question, but the nerves are quelled as luocha smiles brightly, shifting his weight on his hips to lower himself down closer to you.

"gladly."

there's a few seconds of anticipation, of his breath hitting your core before another entirely new sensation- something wet and muscled sliding against you as luocha licks a flat stripe through your slit. his tongue sharpens, flicking against your clit as he pulls away after his experimental first taste.

you're already feeling something inside you coil in anticipation, and it tightens even more at the blissed out expression on luocha's face.

"you taste divine, my love."

and then he's delving in for more. your usually so composed boyfriend lying flat on his stomach, buried facefirst in your pussy and eating it like a man starved.

the slurping and squelching noises are obscene, echoing off of the walls and filling up the room along with your wails and moans. your head was in the clouds right now, too fucked out to even scream his name. and he hadn't even put his tongue in yet.

as if reading your mind, luocha finally shifts his attention to your hole, his tongue circling it, teasing it open, before he plunges in along with his fingers, the size of them and his fingertips grazing against your g spot bringing you to the verge of tears.

everything just felt so good, and he was going to make you cum hard and fast.

the regular pressure of an impeding orgasm kept building up, more than it regularly would, until it became an entirely new sensation altogether.

"w-wait, baby, i'm gonna pee or something-"

luocha pauses, pupils blown wide with lust as he meets your gaze.

"you're not, honey, just trust me, alright?"

and because it's him, because you'd do just about anything for him right now if it meant continuing to feel this good, you lie back down, feeling him bring you back to that point again.

his fingers are drilling into you at an almost inhuman pace, the sound enough to make you cum, let alone the sensation. his soft lips suction around your clit, warm tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you squeal and throw your head back.

"'m gonna-" luocha nods encouragingly, his nose bumping against your clit in a way that has your vision go white as you writhe in ecstasy. there's an odd feeling, of something shooting out of you, and you look down to see a spray of clear liquid. luocha's fingers rub against your pusy frantically, making you writhe again, prolonging your orgasm as he milks you for every last drop.

you finally come back down to earth, vaguely feeling a warm wet cloth wipe away at you, at the mess you had made.

and luocha's gazing at you with nothing but adoration, a pussydrunk smile on his lips.

"aren't you glad you trusted me, love?"

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist

[kaiser1ns]

You couldn’t stop laughing when you scrolled through your phone, reading comments and watching endless TikTok edits that started flooding in after you posted that story—the one where you proudly wear an Itoshi Sae #10 Jersey at the Santiago Bernabéu. Fans were freaking out seeing you at the game, supporting your boyfriend and your phone doesn’t stop buzzing with notifications even when you are back home. 

“I can’t believe people are losing their minds over this,” you mutter between giggles, eyes glued to the screen as your latest posts get more views and likes than usual. Videos and articles keep popping up, cute edits of you and him together, paired with the most viral music.

You don’t hear him stir at first, but then the soft rustling of the sheets and a low grunt catch your attention. Suddenly, your phone is pulled from your hand and you blink in surprise.

“Stop giggling and go to sleep,” Sae mumbles, his voice sleepy because you woke him up again for the 4th time in ten minutes. Turning your head barely able to make out his features in the dark room, but you don’t need to see to know the exact expression he’s wearing—a tired frown.

“You will complain when I’m grumpy and annoyed tomorrow”, he adds as you pout, reaching out to try to grab your phone back. “But reading comments and watching edits is so entertaining! You should see the latest one they made of us, it's so well done!”

Sae doesn’t seem amused, instead of handing the phone back, he places it on his nightstand, out of your reach. Before you can do anything more that can disturb his sleep, he wraps his arms around you, caging you against him, His bare chest presses into your back, and you tremble at the cool touch of his necklace against your skin.

"I don’t care," he whispers because you know you'd be worse than him in the morning. "Goodnight." You huff, but the warmth of his embrace and the rhythm of his breathing start to lull you into relaxation. Despite the excitement from earlier, being here with him feels so relaxing, like you are in some type of utopia.

“Fine, fine,” you mumble, letting your body sink into his. “But tomorrow, I’m showing you the edits.” Your boyfriend sighs, clearly already drifting back to sleep, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile. "Sure. Tomorrow."

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[manicmanuscription]

Matching PJ's

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel get matching PJ's for Solstice

Word Count: 1137

Warnings: Intense makeout session, fluff, Azriel being obsessed and possessive.

─── ♡ ───

The River House was abuzz with excitement, wine flowing just as freely as the conversation. Wrapping paper littered the floor as it finally came time to open present’s and you snuggled into Azriel’s chest leaning further into him as you sat on his lap and his arm wrapped possessively around your waist. Ever since you two mated you introduced a new tradition to the family from Winter Court where you were from. 

After dinner everyone opened up Solstice PJ’s. Each couple of the inner circle picking out matching ones for a different mated pair. Cassian and Nesta just showed off their glittery gold pajamas that looked more like lingerie than actual sleeping wear, Cassian giving off a final spin as everyone cheered and Nesta just rolled her eyes at his antics. Mor clapping the loudest at her choice of clothing for the couple.

“Thank you, Thank you.” He boasted before finally settling on one of the couches pulling his mate with him. “Alright! Y/N and Azriel’s turn.” Cassian grinned wildly. “Don’t worry guys, we picked some really good ones for you.” He said with a wink and you rolled your eyes at him, you’ve had some pretty awful and some pretty amazing pj’s ever since introducing this fun little game.

Cassian was determined to find something that would embarrass Azriel the few times he drew your names from the bowl. You stood up from your seat, catching the wrapped bundle from Nesta before making your way to the bathroom, Azriel following close behind you. 

“Nothing can be worse than what they got Feyre and Rhys last year.” Azriel reminded you as you ripped open the gift, you chuckled at the memory of the neon green pj’s that came with sewn in lights the couple had been forced to wear all night. “I wouldn’t underestimate Cassian.” You respond and Azriel hummed in agreement. 

You both made quick work of shedding your clothes. Azriel’s eyes tracking every movement you made and when you were nothing but in your undergarments he couldn’t stop himself from pressing you up against the bathroom counter kissing you deeply as his hands settled on your waist, slowly moving down to your thighs with each slide of his tongue against yours.

You slowly forgot about the people waiting for you and whimpered softly against his mouth, tugging at the strands of his hair and he groaned, pressing his hips against yours. 

Azriel lifted you up and set you on top of the counter, sliding in between your thighs and titled your head back with a slight tug of your hair so he could gain further control of the kiss. You let out another moan and tried to grip the counter behind you for support. 

The sound of the soap dispenser falling into the sink brought you back down to earth and you pulled away from him. “You’re naughty, Spymaster.” You reprimanded, his eyes still glazed over with lust as he smirked. “Can’t help it.” Azriel breathed out slowly, his hands still settled on your waist.

You blushed embarrassed you almost let him fuck you while his family was still a few halls down. Azriel couldn’t help the male pride at your flushed cheeks and he nipped at your earlobes. You giggled and squirmed, finally pulling away from him and sliding off the counter. “You need to stop that!” You exclaimed, fighting a smile off. “Your family is just in the other room.”

Azriel made a show of putting his hands behind his back, and taking a mini step away from you. His eyes scanned over your body before you hid the magnificent sight away, sliding up the fuzzy plaid pants Nesta and Cassian bought for you. 

Once you were fully dressed Azriel had an even harder time taking his eyes off of you. He didn’t know what his brother was thinking when he bought the matching black and red set but he was going to kill him.

You both had matching black and red pants, it hung low on his hips and he didn’t miss the way your eyes trailed down his V-line or his muscular arms as he slid the tight red shirt on. He was surprised at how mellow the set was until he saw your tank top. It was a crop top with lacy trailing the hem and the straps crisscrossed in the back, not only was it tight but it had an extremely low cut on the front.

It accented your assets perfectly, your ass on perfect display and the little tease of your pierced belly button had his cock straining in his pants. Cassian and Nesta had somehow gotten your exact measurements, each piece of clothing hugging you perfectly like a second skin, highlighting every beautiful curve and dip of your body. You grabbed your clothes and Azriel’s, magicking them away to your house and turned to face him noticing the dark expression in his eyes. 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and gave him a little spin. “You like?” You asked cheekily and Azriel let out a pained sound. “You’re going to kill me.” He whispered, stepping close to you and pulling you into him as he kissed you even more passionately than before.

His grip tightened and his touch grew more demanding as he slowly walked you into the wall, his kiss left you breathless and his lips moved to your neck and then eventually your shoulder. “Azriel we have to go-“ You started but he cut you off with a growl and a firm kiss, demanding control as he let himself explore your mouth as if he had never tasted you before.

You went limp in his arms moaning embarrassedly loud. Azriel hiked one of your legs over your waist and soon a loud demanding knock echoed through the bathroom. 

“Come on! Your five minutes are up, we don't need a repeat of Cassian and Nesta from last year!” Morrigan yelled loudly. Azriel ignored her kissing you even deeper and holding you even tighter while she kept loudly knocking. Finally you found the strength to pull away. “Azriel.” You warned and he let out a groan of frustration but pulled away, setting you back down on the floor and brushing your hair with his fingers as you tried to make yourself look presentable. Before you left the bathroom Azriel gave you a look that promised he wasn’t done with you and you gave him a kiss on the cheek conveying your excitement. 

Finally you opened the door and Mor gave you a knowing smirk before the three of you headed back to the living room. Whoops and cheers erupted as you made your debut and Cassian let out a long wolf-whistle at the sight of you.

“Looking nice Y/N.” Nesta smirked and Azriel cut down everyone’s excitement shortly, pulling you into his lap and shadows hid most of you from view, his hands gripping your waist with an intensity that you loved. 

“You’re a dead male Cassian.”

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ meet the parents

single dad Eddie Munson x single mom Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: For my fourth and final fic of @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas, I bring you a romcom-worthy meet cute! A one-night stand in a small town is always a dangerous game.

Content: Eddie and Reader are both single parents. Modern AU. P in V and oral sex. Too many feelings for a one-night stand. Reader’s shitty ex mention. Small town dynamics. Light on Christmas, heavy on Eddie being a sexy menace. If you see any typos/messy sentences lmk!!

Just an extra little note to say the biggest THANK YOU to @littlexdeaths for putting together these wonderful Promptmas ideas, and for just being completely lovely and amazing too. I have had such a fun few weeks working on writing again, it’s been a crazy few months for me personally so this has been the best way to get back into writing and feeling creative again!! I’ve loved every minute ❤️

✨bang average festive fics✨ Eddie Munson fics ✨Dividers by @strangergraphics✨

It has been quite a few years since you woke up in a stranger’s bed. 

More used to the morning time routine of trying to get a sleepy six-year-old up and ready for the day, or the heartwarming feeling of said six-year-old making her way into your bed to cuddle on sleepy Sundays, you feel a little out of your depth this morning.

And some degree of hungover. 

But it could be worse, you supposed. The stranger’s bed was comfy and he had plenty of pillows for you to sleep on. His sheets were clean and he had not totally smothered you like a limpet all night, nor had he expected you to get up and leave while you were still catching your breath. He was a fairer bedmate than your daughter, and it was pleasant to wake up with the warm weight of his inked arm around you rather than a kid’s-size-twelve foot digging into your ribs, or her hair in your mouth. 

You sink into the comfort of it all, relishing that long-forgotten post-great-sex ache all over and the feeling of waking after a deep and dreamless sleep. You had not been this well-rested in almost seven years.

Next to you, he is asleep on his stomach with his arm across your middle. The room is dusky dark, but you can still make out the tattoos along his pale bare body and the glint of his nose ring, the spill of long dark hair piled up on his head. He is much softer now than when you met in the bar last night, no coy smirk or wolfish grin, no deep dimples on his cheeks. His whiskey eyes are still shut, and you feel warm all over when you remember how he had looked at you like you were the only woman in the bar, in the world, last night. How he had taken you home and taken you apart right here in his navy sheets. 

Carefully, trying not to wake the man next to you, you ease yourself up to check your phone.  It’s far too early to worry about picking Hazel up yet.

Not for the first time, you say a silent thanks to the universe for your neighbour for agreeing to babysit Hazel so that you could have a well-deserved Christmas night out with the friends you had made at work. You will bring her a nice hand-tied bouquet from the shop next week, just because. Without Claudia and her kindness to lean on, you know that going it alone in this small new town would so be much harder. It had been serendipitous really, moving in next door to an older and wiser woman who had been in the very same position as you when her son was not much older than Hazel. You begin piecing together the perfect bouquet for her, eucalyptus and rose and red ribbon, distracting yourself briefly from the dull ache in your head and the dry feeling on your tongue.

He brought you a glass of water before you fell asleep together. It’s cool in your throat, though it barely touches the sides of the discomfort pressing behind your brows. When the glass is mostly empty, you settle back next to him and let yourself doze for a little longer.

Eddie instinctively pulls you closer in his sleep, his warm morning breath tickling your shoulder and neck. You know it is just temporary, he is still a stranger, but let yourself enjoy the fleeting comfort while it lasts.

“Morning.”

His voice is rough and smoky, and there’s a tired smile waiting for you when you open your eyes a while later. You are struck by how pretty he is, handsome and hot but pretty with it; long dark lashes and doe-eyes, cheekbones to die for.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You feel yourself smiling back at him, feeling dreamy and oh-so-comfortable. You stretch your body out, relishing the rush of blood and oxygen to your muscles and your eyes drop closed again at that so-good feeling.

“Sleeping Beauty.” 

When Eddie kisses your hair, you miss how he closes his eyes and savours the moment; you are too busy basking in the unexpected tenderness of this one-night stand, the easiness of waking up slow with a man you met less than twelve hours ago. Even if it is just for this morning, you soak it up. 

“Mhmm. You have a comfy bed,” you whisper, looking up at him again. 

You brush your fingertips along his silver chain before tracing up to his jaw, past the tendrils of hair escaping his scrunchie. You know the feeling of that dark grown-out and nicely-maintained stubble, how it brushed and burned so good on the inside of your thighs, how it feels against your lips. 

Tentatively, bravely, you press your mouth against his and feel his smile. It’s sweet, slow. Intimate and lovely.

“Yeah? M’glad you think so,” he murmurs and steals one more kiss before pulling you against his body. 

Last night as you basked in the afterglow, Eddie asked so quietly if he could hold you and you almost teared up about it. It had been a long time since anyone had held you like that, like he is holding you again this morning.  It has been a long time since anyone has been sweet to you, shared closeness and intimacy like this. Not since the man you loved upped and left, leaving you and one-year-old Hazel with only each other to love. 

You feel the strength of his arms and the softness of his belly. There’s a stirring, hardening interest against your thigh and yet he’s not being too forward or pushy. He’s just holding you, just ‘coz. 

“I don’t… S’a while since I had a sleepover,” he admits, running his blunt nails over the small of your back. “You didn’t hog the covers, and you didn’t sneak off without saying bye…”

Eddie pulls back a little, wearing that small flirty smile that made you swoon last night. His voice is so playful, even though it is deep with morning huskiness. 

“Still here,” you whisper back, “I… It’s been a while for me too. I don’t usually… Yeah.” You shrug, you know he gets it. 

There is a glint of something in his eyes before he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we did. I had fun.” 

The dimple in his cheek is beautiful and bashful, and when he looks at you again his eyes go right to your lips.

“Me too.” You touch his chain again and tug gently to bring your lips together again, putting you both out of your misery.

No one has ever kissed you like Eddie did last night, with all-consuming lust that made you feel electric. He is a blend of rough and smooth, a firm guiding hand followed by a gentle caress. You have never felt so wanted, so craved.

The way he kisses you this morning pushes aside the thoughts of all you need to do today. All you know is want, the cloying feeling of wanting to touch and be touched, craving pleasure. With his hands to guide, you straddle his lap and lean into the feeling of his fingertips wandering past the hem of the t-shirt he loaned you last night. 

Eddie looks up at you like you’re some sort of deity, his eyes and lips shining as you peel off the t-shirt and throw it behind you, leaving yourself bare in his lap. He was not put off by the stretch marks, or the Mom Body you felt so self-conscious about sometimes. Nor was he put off by the fact that you are a Mom. Eddie had simply smiled when you briefly mentioned your daughter, told you he had his own little girl without giving too much away. With that fresh layer of yourselves on show, you could understand each other just a little bit more without going full gushing-parent mode, sharing pictures of your little angels or ranting about who loved Bluey and loathed Peppa more. 

His fingers run over the stretch marks on your hips, starting up a slow grind as he kisses your neck (remembering your ‘no marks’ rule). There is a slight chill in the air to remind you that beyond this liminal bliss, it is a frosty December morning, but Eddie warms you up and distracts you without second thought. 

In the gauzy light, you see touches of fatherhood around his room, easily missed in the passion of last night - a framed drawing on his bedside table, a kiddie hair clip in his ring dish. You smile to yourself and shiver when his warm breath skates over the damp trail of kisses.

“Pretty smile,” he murmurs, needing to taste and feel it again. 

Hands wander and squeeze and you get drunk on each other all over again in the cocoon of Eddie’s bed. You blindly follow his dark treasure trail before taking him in hand, hot and diamond-hard, and savour the taste and sound of his moan. Your aching need for him is tempered and satiated by his fingers and you flush hot all over when he encourages you to scoot up and let him taste you, almost begging for it. Dazed with want, you find yourself clinging to the headboard with white knuckles and his name spilling from your lips. 

Eddie could die a happy man with your thighs bracketing his head. The taste of you makes him feel drunk as you take your pleasure from him; the needy roll of your hips is encouraged by his greedy hands in contrast to how cautious and careful you had been not to trap and tug his hair beneath your knees. 

When you are sufficiently dumb with pleasure, he lays you back against the pillows and lays out his desire for you in between messy kisses, losing his train of thought when you get your hand back on him and whisper back your need for him to fuck you now. Eddie reaches blindly for the (blessedly still-in-date) box of foil-wrapped packets in his drawer, not wanting to look away from you for even a moment.

He holds your hand as he makes love to you and you have to remind yourself not to get too caught up in how sweet Eddie is, even when he his making you feel like you have never been so full; sweetness and filthy words wound together so sweetly. It’s overwhelming and he catches you fighting tears when you feel too good. 

“Hey,” he whispers, wearing too much worry between his brows. “Do you want to stop, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

A guy being decent should not make your heart swell like this, and yet it does. You shake your head, tears spill over and he brushes them away with care.

“No, no. You’re not hurting me,” you promise. “I feel really good. S’just a lot.” 

Your voice wobbles and he smiles fondly against your mouth, relieved and happy to be wanted in return. 

Eddie has this magnetism, warm and cloying and a little mysterious; it makes you feel comfortable even when he’s teasing you and making you flush hot all over. 

“Yeah, baby? That’s what I’m here for,” he whispers, and kisses you slowly, sweetly. “Let me make you feel good.” You feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. He can feel it hammering against him as he starts up a slow roll of his hips that fills you completely. 

Your fingers clutch at the sheets as Eddie fucks you into his mattress. Nothing else matters in those moments, only pleasure. You fight the urge to sink your teeth into the meat and muscle of his arm, lick the drip of sweat from his neck. Instead, you taste the way he moans your name and cling to him when you come just moments apart - you first, then him.

He shares his water with you afterwards when he sees your empty glass; you are both damp with sweat and lying side by side with your heartbeats pounding in your ears, the lingering taste of each other on your tongues.

When he kisses you again, his lips are water-cooled and tender.

“Can I make you some coffee? I have to pick up my little terror in a bit…” he says, already cringing at himself. “She’s great, I swear. I promised her diner pancakes for brunch.”

Reality trickles back in, a not-unpleasant cooling off of your morning together.

“Yeah, I should probably not show up in last night’s clothes to pick my kid up. Coffee sounds good.” 

There was always an expiry date on this; the boundaries of a one-night stand were set and familiar, despite how long it has been and despite how easy and intimate this morning has been. You’re both adults, both okay with it. 

“Cool.” He smiles and hauls himself out of bed, stepping into his lost and found again boxers before he doubles back to kiss your cheek. 

When your legs are steady enough he shows you how the shower works, leaving you to it with a new toothbrush, fresh towels and a familiar squeeze to your bare hip. There’s a little part of you that wants him to join you, waste hot water and let him press you against the cold tiles. Eddie wants that too, to delay your inevitable parting of ways and return to reality.

When you look in the mirror, you see a well-fucked woman; kiss-bitten lips and that long-lost post-sex glow. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur to yourself, giggling a little when you think over the last twelve hours. 

You had not gone out looking for a hookup last night, but you made the most of the festive excuse to go for drinks with the few friends you had made since moving to Hawkins six months ago. Catching Eddie’s eye at the bar had been a happy accident. A happy accident that lead to letting him buy you a drink, and then buying him one back. Your friends had wholeheartedly encouraged it, knew him to see around town and vouched for him as a mechanic. Good with his hands, they had teased. Oh, how right they had been.

The water is hot and Eddie’s shower gel is the typical ‘for men’ scented sort of thing. You feel fresh and clean when you step back into the bedroom, finding sweats and an Iron Maiden hoodie on the bed for you, alongside your clothes from last night (which Eddie has attempted to fold neatly, instead of leaving you to pick them up from the floor).

It should not make you smile so much, but your cheeks ache pleasantly as you dress yourself, opting for last night’s jeans with Eddie’s sweater. It’s washed-soft and smells like the detergent you have at home with a hint of his cologne.

You follow the scent of coffee and the sound of music downstairs, finding more traces of parenthood on your way - a purple fairy door on the baseboard,  a washing basket full of clean kids' clothes outside a closed bedroom door, light-up Skechers and silver glitter rain boots in the hall. There is something familiar about them, but brush it aside as something Hazel probably asked for in Target.

Eddie’s unbuttoned jeans hang low on his hips as he makes coffee in mismatched mugs, his hair is down tickling against his bare shoulders and back. There are drawings on the fridge and a Christmas tree peeking out from the living room. It feels like a happy home.

His eyes light up when he sees you, looking as hungry and enamoured by you in his hoodie as he had been when you were wearing nothing at all. 

“Do you take sugar, or are you sweet enough?” he asks, wearing a softer version of that panty-dropper smile from last night. He smells clean, minty and masculine, after a quick whore’s bath in the other bathroom.

“Just one,” you say, resting your hip against the kitchen island while you watch him fix up your coffee. “You’re smooth, huh?”

“You tell me.” He slides the mug across to you before blowing on his coffee, taking a still-too-hot sip that he tries and fails to cover. For a moment, you think he might be doing a bit, alas he is simply endearingly clumsy.

You feel bad laughing, but Eddie only pouts a little bit before grinning at you. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and he ducks his head to hide behind his hair. 

“Real smooth.” 

Exercising patience, you decide to let your coffee cool a little.

“I’ll give you a ride home if you like?” he says, hoping it’s not too forward. 

He wants to be more forward, ask for your number and ask you out. He likes how his clothes fit your body, and how you looked blissed-out in his bed. While Eddie’s trying not to come off too strong, you appreciate his sweetness and fight your own internal battle of trying not to fall for your one-night stand.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Eddie. I’m over on Cornwallis, is that out of your way?”

He smiles a little, “I don’t mind a little detour, sweetheart.”

You pointedly blow on your coffee, learning from his mistake, and savour the made-just-right coffee in a Snoopy & Woodstock mug.

Over his shoulder, you spot a photo of a familiar man on the fridge, bookended by two heads of dark curly hair. There’s a handpainted fridge magnet with ‘Fae’ written in childishly charming pink writing, and you feel your cheeks flame.

He watches your face change, looks over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. 

“Ah. That’s my Uncle Wayne, and Fae. My daughter. she’s six.” He unpins the picture and thumbs over it gently before turning it around to you.

You know exactly who they are, but take it anyway.

When you moved your life to Hawkins, Indiana six months ago, you would never have believed that you would make friends with a grandfather in his sixties outside of Curtain Call Dance Studio while you waited for Hazel. Making friends as a single Mom in a new town was not easy, you had little time outside of work and parenting for yourself, let alone socialising (and god forbid, dating). And then you parked next to Wayne one Thursday. He was a little quiet but had warmed up more each week; now he smiled when he saw you, asked how your job at the florists was and how Hazel was doing in school.

Even though they were in different First Grade class groups at Hawkins Elementary, Hazel and Fae had become almost inseparable in their dance classes and on the playground. 

You knew Fae’s dad worked late some evenings, so Wayne helped him out. Hazel had told you that she had seen Fae’s dad once when he picked her up early to go to the dentist, and that he had hair just like her friend.

“She looks just like me, it’s crazy - poor kid. I can’t believe she’s six. She’s supposed to be three, max. Y’know what I mean?” He says, showing you more of his proud Dad side before realising that your confusion is not because you’re looking at a picture of two clones. “You okay?”

“You’re Fae’s Dad? Fae Munson?” you ask, watching his shoulders tense a little as he nods. “Eddie. Our kids know each other. I’ve met Wayne.” 

He scowls slightly beneath his bangs, confused and a little worried that he hooked up with the mother of one of the kids who was mean to Fae in school, who told the teacher when she was ‘too chatty’ or when she stood up for herself.

The words spill from you untempered, unrestrained to clear it all up. “They’re at dance class together. They’re in the same grade. Hazel and Fae are friends, Eddie…”

He visibly softens, drops his shoulders, and even though he still looks confused he melts even more when an involuntary nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. 

“Seriously? No… You’re Hazel’s mom?” His eyes blow wide. “Fuck.” 

Eddie puts his head on the counter with a thunk, and you’re left with the photo of three smiling Munsons. Fae has her Dad’s eyes and hair, his impish mischief that had endeared you to the little girl. They really are alike.

“Wayne was right,” he says, muffled beneath his hair before peeking at you, “You are cute.” 

It makes you laugh more, though your cheeks feel like the surface of the sun.

“Wayne thinks I’m cute? Huh…”

“No. Nope,” he yelps, head flying up like a wild thing. “Oh my goddd.”

You feel a little spacey as the pieces fall into place. Wayne’s nephew Ed worked at Thatcher Tyre as a mechanic, and Fae had told Hazel her Dad looked like a rockstar. She wasn’t wrong…

“He was totally going to try and set us up or somethin’.”

“He did say I’d finally get to meet you at the Winter Performance…” you say, feeling fizzy-all-over as you come to terms with the shock of it all. “Guess we bet him to it.”

“Told me you were real sweet too.” Eddie smiles, his cheeks are pinker than ever.

Part of your brain berates you for hooking up with a stranger in a small town - a small town where everyone knows everyone else. But when Eddie reaches his hand out across the island and says, “Good to finally meet you, Hazel’s Mom,” with that flirty smile and his whiskey eyes, it melts away and you’re not really that sorry at all.

You take his hand, mug-warmed and adorned with silver rings. 

“Nice to meet you at last, Fae’s Dad.”

Neither of you is too embarrassed by the revelation, though you both circle back to how fucking crazy it is at least twice. Even though you still feel gooey-warm under his attention, you don’t want anything to get in the way of your daughter’s friendship, of your new start in Hawkins, and feel selfish for wanting more than the taste you have already had of Eddie Munson. You both know your time together is drawing to an end, the bubble is about to burst, and a little part of you wishes that the illusion of being strangers could have lasted a little longer. 

With your coffee consumed and your coats and boots on, Eddie takes your hand and pulls you against his body before you step outside of the door together. 

“Hey, gorgeous. One more kiss?” he asks, head tilted to the side. 

You don’t need to think about it, and take his stubbled jaw with both hands as he holds your hips. Kissing him makes all the tension roll away once more, and you hope it is enough to help him remember you as more than just some other Mom in the First Grade Parents Group Chat (which you both have muted). You have to savour it, remember his taste and touch.

Eddie is not shy about kissing you, he slides his tongue against yours and moans ever so quietly when you push your chest against his. He is also the one to slow it down, makes it sweet and tender and you would dare say romantic, even with his hands on your ass. 

“Can I ask for one more thing?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. 

Right now, you would consider giving him a kidney or a blow job if he asked nicely. 

“Mhm,” you whisper, giving nothing away just yet. 

“Can I get your number? I wanna take you out properly,” he says, his thumbs play with the belt loop at the back of your jeans. “Like a date.”

Feeling hot all over, you try to play it cool and not nod so eagerly lest you headbutt him and leave him bloody-nosed. 

“Yeah. That would be nice, Eddie.” 

He watches how your teeth sink into your lip and has to kiss you once more, just because. You take his phone and add your number and name, adding a little sparkle emoji before deleting it. Then you add it again and hand it back before you can change your mind.

“Cool. And, um maybe the girls could have a play date sometime? I was gonna ask for your number anyway, so y’know. Two birds, one stone and all that. Silver linings?” Eddie does a jazz-hand-flourish thing before he shakes his head at himself and tucks his phone away. “I had a good time with you. A great time. And I know what you might be thinking, I don’t want this to get between the girls either. But I’d love to see you again.”

You are even more endeared by these glimpses of how sensible he is as well as his goofy awkwardness beneath the leather jacket and bad boy stare.

He is as gentlemanly as he had been last night, opening doors for you, though he is less handsy in the bright morning light (he does give your knee a squeeze at the stoplight). You feel safe with him as he navigates the frosty roads of Hawkins, talking about music, what concerts you had been to before becoming parents, and where to get the sparkly tutus for the Winter Performance. 

All too soon he pulls up outside your house, spotting the red door with the handmade wreath that you had described.

“Next to Henderson’s?” he asks, brow raised.

“Yep. Do you know Claudia, or is this town just too small?”

He laughs, tilts his head against the headrest. “It’s way too small. Her son, Dustin? One of my best friends.” 

You tip your head forward, smiling even as your head shakes. “I’ve heard so much about Dustin. We’re having Christmas dinner with them.”

Eddie's dimpled cheeks crease even more. “Damn. Well, I can’t wait to hear why you picked Hawkins of all places to move to. You can tell me on our date.”

Proud of how that flusters you, he presses a kiss to your hand and winks, “I’ll text you later, sweetheart.”

You want to kiss him again, but you manage to restrain yourself, remembering the nosy neighbours on Cornwallis. Instead, you let the flickering fire inside you flirt back, hoping to fluster him too.

You place your hand high on his thigh and squeeze. “You better, Eddie. Drive safe.”

You can feel him checking you out all over again, the weight and warmth of his gaze, as you make your way up the path to your door. Once your key is in the lock, you part ways with a wave and a wink, lingering just a moment more to watch his car peel away from the curb. 

Left with a fluttering feeling in your tummy and warm cheeks that ache from smiling, you take a moment for yourself in your hallway. 

It is time to go back to being Hazel’s mom. You can’t wait to hear about her sleepover with Ms. Claudia and the cats, bask in her brilliance and take every hug and smooch she will offer you (or let you take for yourself). Inspired by Eddie and Fae’s breakfast date, you think of taking your girl to the diner for dinner later on, maybe watching a Christmas movie before bed. 

In the mirror above your sideboard, hanging above the key dish and the thrifted lamp and a photo of you and Hazel in matching sunglasses, you catch sight of your smiling reflection once more, enveloped in a dreamy daze and borrowed hoodie. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and your smile becomes bigger, brighter, brimming with hope. 

What did you think? Do we want more of these two? 👀 Thank you so very very much for reading! Your comments, reblogs and likes are incredibly appreciated and adored!

Whether you're celebrating or not, I am wishing you the cosiest and most wonderful holiday season filled with peace and love and every good thing you deserve ✨

[verxca]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #02 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which jason is your next door neighbour.

✦ The first time you met Jason wasn’t out of high stakes - a dangerous situation - or from a friend of a friend. It was by pure will, and that stuck out to him. You’d come over to finally meet your new neighbour who’d moved into your small apartment complex, blushing slightly as a young man opened the door. There you were, standing with a small container of pasta in hand next to the hunk of a man you’d never met. All because you’d made some extra on accident.

“Thanks. This looks great.” He nods his head ever so slightly in gratitude.

✦ Jason notices how your shoulders relax as he takes the container— how cute you looked all nervous like that. Above all, he was just happy he didn’t come off as some shitty neighbour, fortified by the wide, gentle smile you ported while turning to wave goodnight.

✦ He sets the container onto his counter, picturing your face in his mind for a brief instant. It'd been a while since someone did something nice for Jason, just because. He wasn’t used to it.

✦ You’d crossed paths many times in the hallway, but what really sealed the deal was when your sink started to leak one random thursday evening. You couldn’t tell if it was minor or not, but you wanted to play it safe, knocking next-door. Who was Jason to deny a pretty girl, anyway? He accepts causally, though inside he’s beaming more than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, no sweat, let me grab my tools.”

✦ And only a couple minutes later, he was hunched under your kitchen cabinets— sleeves rolled up and everything. His hands work deftly, years of practice making the task almost second nature.

“Do you need a water, or anything? I have soda, too.”

“Oh- Yeah. Water would be perfect.”

✦ You tried desperately to hide your growing grin while reaching up for a glass, the whole situation particular. Jay stayed longer than he had to once the leak was actually repaired; a whole half hour to put into perspective. Maybe it was the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, or the way you seemed genuinely happy to have him over that made him give in. Or, maybe, it’d just been too fucking long since he’d had a normal conversation like this.

“Eh, I've been around for a bit," He says vaguely as you two were sharing, "Long enough to know my way around. And- to know that this place is a hell of a lot better than some of the other shitholes in the city."

He gestures to your apartment with his glass in hand, leaning against your counter. “Yeah, tell me about it… It’s small, but it works.” Jason points to the sink he had just finished fixing with a smirk, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

✦ Your smile just lit up around him, and that was when he knew you’d be the woman he’d marry.

✦ And then, the fateful night hit. Red Hood had come back home after beating up some prominent criminals near the side of an old port— covered in bruises and a small stab wound to the lower abdomen. His head wasn’t in the game, and the feverish lightning made it hard to concentrate. He reached for his apartment door, mask in hand. It was late; he knew nobody would be out roaming the halls at this hour.

✦ The handle didn’t budge, though, his black gloves gripping onto the metal more harshly.

“Fuck!”

✦ Jay yelled, banging his hand against his apartment door. This? Now? Could his night not get any fucking worse? He pauses, his expression not angry, but just sad. Tired. He looked defeated. Jason walked over to the left of him, pausing before knocking on your door.

“Jason? Oh my god- Are you-”

✦ The stab wound in his side was throbbing, and you could see some blood dripping down from his leg. He needed to get it cleaned before he passed out.

“Please.”

✦ You don’t waste anytime before helping him inside, placing your hand on his lower back. You always had your suspicions about the guy— but this? He had to be a vigilante! Crime was rampant in this area, anyway… You prayed he was on the good side of things.

✦ Jason was sitting on your toilet seat, shirt off, gaze completely averted down. He didn’t want you to see him like this; all fucked up and broken. But you didn’t run screaming, or turn away in disgust— Instead you rushed to help him. He didn’t understand. You diligently cleaned his wound with an antiseptic, own expression sour from how much you knew it had to be hurting him. Jay tried his best to hold still despite the stinging pain— grunting slightly.

“Shit…”

✦ You look up, only to notice he was already staring down at you in between his legs. Your heart skipped a number of beats.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You ask calmly, and Jason just couldn’t take it. Your soft hands - your sympathetic expression - your fucking voice. He was going to break, averting his gaze in the matter of a second before clearing his throat roughly.

“Just crossed through the bad side of town.”

✦ Once the wounds were cleaned, you bandaged them up with extra care. Jason’s gaze was fixed between your hands working at his cuts, up to your pretty face. Apart of him wanted to apologize for showing up all unannounced like this, but another part of him— a part that's been starved of kindness and compassion for far too long wanted nothing more than to let you take care of him. Nobody had ever before, at least not with such compassion as you carried.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this… I just didn’t know where else to go.”

✦ He explained his situation once you offered him a glass of water— how his apartment was locked. You don’t think twice before letting him stay the night.

✦ You handed him some old pyjama pants that were too big on you to sleep in, all the while his equipment sat in your bathtub for the time being. You didn’t waste your time before setting up the couch, too, even lighting a nice candle on the coffee table. Jason feels a warmth spread through his chest as you smile at him— it had nothing to do with the pain.

“Fuck- I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Oh, Jason- It’s my pleasure, really. If you need anything during the night, just come get me, yeah?”

✦ You close the blinds and shut off all the lights before tucking yourself back into bed. Holy… what a night! You couldn’t get the image of him out of your head, knowing he trusted you enough for this. All the while Jason fell asleep like a light for the first time in many years, all thanks to your gentle care.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ part 2 ?

[wheeboo]

it started with a dare | yoon jeonghan

SYNOPSIS. in which you get dared to stand under the mistletoe. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader (ft. seungcheol as reader's older brother, implied other members are there too) GENRE. fluff, brother's best friend to lovers WARNINGS. mild swearing, booseoksoon are menaces, light kissing WORD COUNT. 1.5k

notes: for the "a very seventeen christmas" secret santa event by @camandemstudios! ho ho ho! this is your secret santa wheeboo speaking, and this fic is to be delivered to @soo0hee <3 i hope you enjoy hehe and have a wonderful christmas of your own!!!

"I dare Y/N to pick the most attractive person in the room and stand with them under the mistletoe."

Silence.

Utter silence at that.

Then a choked laugh rings out from someone𑁋probably Seokmin𑁋and you can feel fire burst out of your ears and swallow you whole. Your body sinks into the couch as the moments pass, feeling as if a million different pairs of eyes were all staring at you, waiting for you to do something.

"Are you serious right now?" You somehow muster up a chance to shoot a daggered glare right at Soonyoung, who was staring at you back so innocently.

You should have expected this, should have known better than to agree to join your friends' ridiculous game of truth or dare. But now, here you were. And as if the whole situation wasn't embarrassing enough, your eyes instinctively drift to Jeonghan across the room.

He was doing everything but being interested in the game, sitting on the couch right next to Seungcheol𑁋your older brother𑁋with his feet up on the coffee table and his arms crossed, rolling his eyes jokingly at whatever Seungcheol was saying.

Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who caught your eyes years ago when your brother brought him home for the first time. Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who used to ruffle your hair in the hallways back in high school and tease you about bombing your math exams, not realising how those little interactions meant to you. Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who never seemed to notice how much you'd grown since then, how much more you wanted him now.

Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who had always been lurking in the corners of your heart, but never fully in your reach. And you've accepted that fate a long time ago.

A lump forms in your throat. You already know this is going to be a disaster, especially with your friends staring at you like hawks, but it's not like you can choose someone else.

No, your eyes just had to gravitate straight to Jeonghan. Your brother's best friend.

Taking a deep breath, you find your feet begin to move on their own, dragging you across the room to where Seungcheol and Jeonghan were sitting.

You notice how calm Jeonghan is, how effortlessly relaxed he looks simply minding his own business, and it only seems to make everything worse, because you're about to do something that might just haunt you for the rest of your life.

When you approach closer, you hear the whispers of your friends behind your back. Jeonghan glances up from his spot on the couch, his brow raising upon your presence.

"Um..." You croak out nervously. "Hi."

It's just a game, You remind yourself. Just a game.

Jeonghan looks at you quizzically for a moment, and then his lips curl into a faint smile. But you don't detect any amusement in his features, any hint he might tease you senseless𑁋just a warm, easygoing expression that almost makes you forget why you're standing here.

"What's up?" he simply asks, and it's enough for you to beg the world to crush you.

"I, uh..." You seriously want to slap yourself in the face right now. "I pick you."

His eyes widen slightly, and your stomach ties itself into a knot.

"Me?" he questions.

"Uh, yeah." You nod quickly, dipping your head down guiltily. "We're supposed to... stand under the, um... mistletoe?"

Jeonghan doesn't answer right away, just glancing between Seungcheol's suspicious eyes towards the two of you and the mistletoe that stands proudly above the doorway to the living room.

Then he just fucking smirks.

"Well then," He takes his feet off the coffee table and stands up. "Lead the way."

Seungcheol opens his mouth to say something, but you're already walking away before he could get a word out. Each step feels heavier than the last as you trudge towards the stupid mistletoe, with Jeonghan casually following behind you.

When you reach the spot beneath the mistletoe, you stand there awkwardly, unsure of where to go from there. Jeonghan stands right in front of you, way closer than you anticipated, and you have to fight the urge to meet his eyes.

"So..." You turn back towards your friends. "Game over, right?"

"Of course not!" Seungkwan chimes in, shaking his head. "You still have to kiss, duh."

You're this close to kicking every single one of your friends in the shin.

"I𑁋That was not part of the dare!" You protest, face reddening. "You can't just𑁋"

"No takesie backsies!" Seokmin exclaims, and you give him your friendliest death glare.

You want to die. Or at least crawl into a hole and never come out. That would be nice right now.

"Y/N," he calls out to you, so quietly only you can hear. "It's okay. It's just a stupid dare, right?"

All the words that ache to tumble out of you immediately disperse when you meet his soft eyes. The way he's gazing at you has your legs feeling like jelly, your heart running marathons, your nervous façade crumbling just slightly. You almost forget about how your entire situation is put on display for everyone to watch.

"I won't bite, you know," Jeonghan muses playfully, yet when he catches the worried look on your face, his smirk fades away. "Y/N? Look at me."

You hesitate for a moment, before torturously lifting your head to look up at him. He's so pretty, especially up close, so close you can't help but flicker down to his lips for a second𑁋

"We can just get this over with, yeah?" His eyes hold yours even as he inches closer. "It'll be quick."

It's just a kiss, You tell yourself. Just a kiss.

"Okay," You murmur, feeling your feet root into the floor. "Okay."

Then when he gives you that smile again, you suddenly can't move. Jeonghan places one hand on your shoulder, another one coming up to hover closer to your cheek, though his warmth still seeps within even when he isn't fully touching you.

"Don't worry." He leans in more, his breath ghosting against your skin, and your eyelids flutter to a close. "It's just me."

Your heart pounds so loudly you're sure he can hear it. You can't see his face, but you know he's just a breath away from your mouth.

However, you also don't see the way he pauses right before your quivering lips, how his gaze roams over your face like he's studying you. You hear a chuckle.

"Cute."

Then before you can fully process, the softest touch of his lips land right at the corner of your mouth. It's gentle, light, lingering a few beats longer than necessary, and it's somehow more intimate than a kiss on the lips.

And then like a snap, it's over. Jeonghan pulls away from you slowly, the warmth from his touch spreading through your body like a wildfire. The room erupts into an obnoxious round of applause. You only stand there like a lost child, because the world and your damn brother now all know that you're hopelessly in love with Yoon Jeonghan.

And the worst part? It wasn't just a kiss in front of everyone𑁋he made it feel real.

"I..." You clear your throat, pursing your lips together. "I need a drink."

You're quick to dash towards the kitchen, away from your friends and Jeonghan.

Stepping into the kitchen, the cool air calms your flushed skin. You lean against the counter and let out a groan, burying your face in your hands, willing the heat to leave your face.

"Y/N?"

Shit.

"You okay?"

"No." You give a half-hearted laugh. "because now everyone and my brother knows I have a crush on you."

Jeonghan stands right next to you by the counter, tilting his head to get a better view of your face as he smirks amusedly. You roll your eyes, unable to grasp how much he seems to enjoy seeing you flustered.

"Seriously?" You frown. "You think this is funny? You𑁋"

"I think it's cute," Jeonghan interrupts confidently. "You're cute, and I'd rather kiss you properly than have it be from a stupid dare."

Your jaw drops to the floor, your brain short-circuiting, and you stare at him like he's just told you the most absurd thing in the world. And in a way, it is.

"Don't mess with me, Yoon Jeonghan."

"I'm not," Jeonghan responds affirmatively. "but it's fun watching you squirm."

You groan helplessly. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." He grins, the smugness oozing off him, and it's so infectious that you also smile, because he's right𑁋you don't. "Your brother can kill me for all I care, but..."

Jeonghan steps up to you until there's barely any space left between you two, reaching out to push back a strand of hair behind your ear. This time, when his lips meet yours, it's not a dare; not rushed or pressured, nor a product of your ridiculous friends’ antics. Though brief, it's deliberate, soft, like he's been waiting for this moment as long as you have.

When he pulls back, he shoots you a wink. "...I'll make this worth it for you."

And just like that, Yoon Jeonghan has you completely, hopelessly, irrevocably smitten. You can't decide if you want to slap him or kiss him again.

Before you could remotely question what the hell you just got yourself into, Seungcheol's unmistakable voice booms from the living room.

"Y/N! Jeonghan! Get your asses out here right now!"

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[yellowbrokenblue]

Harry joins you in the hot tub…

Your brother brought his best friend on vacation, and you find yourselves stuck in a rather steamy situation.

cw: smut, cheating, degradation, semi public sex, harry and reader being a horny mess

kofi

You had no idea how your brother had managed to coax your parents into paying for his best friend, Harry, to come on vacation with your family, but somehow it had happened.

And it was killing you.

Harry was the sort of guy you only saw in movies. A perfectly chiseled jawline, brown locks you wanted to tangle your fingers in, and pink lips with a permanent smirk on them.

And what was even worse was that you were kept up at night with thought of him with your own fingers in your pussy.

It almost made you forget about your boyfriend, Brandon, who had conveniently had to attend a friends birthday party instead of his own girlfriend’s family vacation.

Everyone had been asleep for hours, but you had no chance of sleeping while dirty thoughts of Niall’s best friend kept circulating your thoughts- so you quickly changed into your bikini and made your way to the hot tub for a late night dip.

The water wasn’t as soothing as you’d hoped it to be, and instead the heat of the water had made you even more horny. Resisting the urge to dip your fingers below your bikini bottoms was killing you right now.

“Seems I wasn’t only one who wanted a dip in the hot tub tonight.”

Your head snapped upwards. Everyone was supposed to be asleep, you weren’t supposed to be hearing any voices at this time of night.

Especially not his voice.

“Harry.” You breathed.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked.

He was wearing only his swimming trunks, leaving his beautiful, tattooed chest on full display.

You caught yourself staring at him, and snapped your eyes away.

You don’t remember the last time you took a breath. You’d been holding it in as he stepped into the hot tub and settled himself directly opposite you, not breaking eye contact the whole time he got in.

“Why’s Brandon not here, then?”

You looked at him, confusion on your features as you listened to Harry spit out Brandon’s name with distaste.

“He couldn’t make it.”

Harry shook his head, frowning, “He’s a fucking prick, Y/N.”

You shrug.

“Oh well. I’m glad he’s not here. It’s kinda nice it just being me and you.” Harry said again.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t you think?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You said quietly, “It is nice.”

You squeeze your thighs together. The effect Harry had on you right now simply by sitting opposite you without a shirt on was crazy.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Harry asked.

You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, and nod.

“I say we play a little game, hm? You seem tense, let’s lighten the mood.”

“Uhm, alright. What’s the game?”

Harry shrugged, “I get to answer any question, and you have to answer. Then you ask me a question, and I have to answer… And so on.”

You frown, “And what if I don’t want to answer?”

A smirk spread over his features.

“Then you gotta take an item of clothing off.”

A lump forms in your throat.

“We’re wearing swimsuits, Harry.” You said.

“I don’t have a problem as long as you don’t have a problem.” He said, “Do you? Do you have a problem?”

You shook your head.

“No problem.”

Harry grinned, “Good.” He said, “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

You nod.

God, he was so hot. Sitting there, staring at you with those eyes. You felt like you were going to sink to the bottom of the hot tub and never come back out.

“What’s your body count?” Harry asked.

You swallowed. You had expected the questions to make a sexual turn eventually, but not straight out on the first one.

“Three.” You said, not elaborating anymore.

“Now you ask me one.”

You thought for a second. If Harry wanted the questions to be about sex, you’d make them about sex.

“Where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

You noticed Harry smirk, and he wasted no time answering the question.

“A girl sucked me off in a movie theatre one time, but the weirdest place I’ve fucked someone? I dunno, like, janitors closet in high school?”

“Movie theatre? Like during the movie, or in the bathroom?”

“During the movie. There wasn’t many people watching the film to be fair, but the movie was on.”

“You’re insane.”

“I know.”

How you fucking wished it had been you sucking Harry’s dick in a movie theatre.

“Okay. My turn.” Harry said, “Why are you happy that Brandon didn’t come on vacation?”

“What?” You asked, “Of course I’m not happy. I’m upset about it!”

You frown at Harry.

“Either you tell the truth, Y/N, or you take an item off. Your choice, sweetheart.”

You think for a moment. Neither options are particularly good ones.

“Okay. Fine. I’m happy he’s not here. I just like… Needed a break from his constant complaining and constant need to create an argument.”

“That’s everything?”

You nod.

“My turn.” You said.

You pause.

Nothing comes to mind at all.

“I can’t think of one.” You say.

“Do you want me to just go again?”

It’s almost as if your heart had stopped beating- you were barely able to process the words that Harry was saying.

“Was it you that I heard touching yourself in your bedroom last night?”

Your cheeks go pink. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

You swallow again, your heart racing.

“No answer?”

Harry smirks, sliding over to the other side of the hot tub, stopping in front of you.

“Sweetheart, you know the rules. If you don’t answer, that skimpy little bikini of yours has to come off.”

“I-”

You physically couldn’t get any words out of your mouth. Your thighs were pressed together as Harry stared hungrily at you.

He moved his hand closer and closer to the back of your neck where your bikini was tied, and in one swift movement, pulled the string of it, causing it to fall into the pool.

His eyes didn’t leave your breasts for what felt like forever. They were locked on your body, his eyes taking everything in.

“One point to me.” He said, “And I’m changing the fuckin’ rules. Only I get to ask questions now.”

You nod.

“Tell me who you were thinking of when you had your fingers in your own cunt last night, Y/N.” He said, his hands that had been placed on your hips moving closer to your panties, his fingers eventually dipping under the waistband, “Cause I sure as hell know it wasn’t Brandon.”

He spat out your boyfriend’s name like dirt on his shoe.

“Does he make you cum, Y/N? Does he make you cum with his tiny dick in your pussy? Does the make you feel good the way you know that I would make you feel good?”

Harry didn’t even wait for you to answer any of his questions. He ripped your panties down your legs, leaving you stark naked in the pool.

“Harry.” You say.

The pain between your legs was unmeasurable. You needed him so badly rignt now that it hurt.

“Tell me you want me, baby, and I’ll give you anything.”

“I want you, Harry.” You say.

“You can have me, babygirl. But first I want to see you touch yourself. Touch yourself the way I heard you last night.”

You wasted no time doing what he asked. The need to release the tension between your legs was so bad right now you’d do anything.

Your hand slipped between your legs and found your clit, rubbing fast circles, moaning out in pleasure.

“Dirty, dirty girl.” He said, “All this because you are so desperate to fuck me.”

“Please Harry. Please I need you.”

“That’s it, baby girl.” Harry said, palming his dick through his pants, “Beg for it. Beg for my cock, Y/N.”

You moan, your fingers still playing with your clit.

“Please Harry. Please give me your cock. I’m so desperate.”

He quickly changed the positions in you both were in, and had his shorts off his body and dangling over the edge of the tub in no time.

“That’s it.” He said, helping you straddle his lap, “You’re gonna take daddy’s cock like the pretty little whore you are.”

Daddy. You moan at his words.

He had hold of your hips, and you moaned as he pushed you onto his cock. Pushing his hips up so you took the whole length all at once.

“Such a tight cunt.” Harry groaned as his cock was pushed right inside of you.

You tried to grind against him, but he had hold of your hips so you couldn’t move.

“Stay still.” He instructed, “Play with those pretty tits and then I’ll let you move.”

You brought your hands to your breasts. You’d do anything for this man right now.

Harry moaned as he watched you push your tits together.

“Oh.” He moaned, “I’m gonna fuck those tits after this. Cum all over them.”

The feeling of his cock inside of you was already making you feral, but this was on another level.

“Please!” You say.

Harry seems to snap, and out of nowhere starts to move your hips, rocking you against him.

“Bounce for me.” He said. “Bounce on daddy’s cock.”

You moved your hips faster than you ever had before, moaning with each time you pushed your hips towards him, his cock filling you up more and more each time.

“Oh, Harry.”

Harry helps you moved faster and faster until you’re physically crying with how close you are to an orgasm.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” You cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a fucking tidal wave.

Your legs were trembling as Harry groaned, indicating he’d reached his own high, your body falling limp, resting against him.

“You’re never gonna fuck that Brandon loser again. You understand?” Harry said, through his own orgasm, “It’s my cock only from now on.”

[obsesssedblerd]

Either he is utterly clueless, or he’s toying with you because he knows you think he’s attractive. You don’t know which is worse.

Choso, your roommate, walks around the kitchen of your shared apartment, preparing breakfast like he does every other weekend—when he works less hours due to his little brother staying over for a few nights. In the living room, you can hear Yuuji and best friend, Megumi, playing video games together and enjoying the slow Saturday morning. 

You should focus on that and maybe offer to play games with them- No, you should focus on the smell of the food. Bacon, eggs, hash browns, something sweet that’s baking in the oven. However, you don’t focus on any of that, and your feet remain glued to their spot at the kitchen doorway, and your eyes stay locked on your roommate. 

Choso was only wearing sweatpants. You can tell that he was fresh out of a shower. His hair is left down this morning, and you can’t help but think that it looks even better that way, especially with the dark strands of his bangs still falling in front of his face. Then his upper body. Holy shit, his upper body. You knew Choso worked out often, sometimes with Satoru Gojo, but not once have you seen the results of his efforts in the gym this clearly. The muscles in his arms flex as he mixes something in a bowl, and your breath hitches slightly. Your gaze slowly drifts lower, taking in his toned chest, his abs, then settling on where his sweatpants hung loosely on his waist. Fuck.

You finally shake yourself out of it, then tear your eyes away from his body, deciding to look at the table instead. You clear your throat, and the sound of it gets his attention. “Morning,” he greets casually, facing you with his usual small smile. “Sorry if Yuuji and his friend woke you up. Megumi decided to stay the night at the last minute.” 

You smile in return, then shake your head. “Oh, that’s fine.” You walk close to the stove where he’s standing. “I don’t mind Megumi. He’s actually way quieter than the rest of Yuuji’s friends. What are you making in that bowl?” 

“Hm? Oh, this is some icing to go on top of the cinnamon rolls.” He grabs a clean spoon from a drawer, then dips it into the bowl. “I think it needs a bit more vanilla, but I’m not too sure. Could you also try it?” 

You nod, then reach to grab the spoon from him, but because your grip on it wasn’t secure, it nearly slips from your hand, resulting in some of the icing getting on Choso’s finger. You both laugh it off, then you sample the icing. 

As you’re tasting it, you see Choso checking on the bacon sizzling in a skillet. Then, he lifts his hand to his mouth that you’ve definitely stared at many times before. A split second before his lips close around his finger with the icing on it, you catch his tongue dart out to lick the icing. Then, he sucks it clean, releasing it with a light smacking sound. You nearly stop breathing. It’s so simple, so innocent, but it’s so damn–

“What do you think?” He asks as he heads over to the sink to wash his hands. 

“...Huh?” 

He looks at you, then points to the spoon in your hand. “The icing. What do you think?” 

Oh. That. 

Heat rises to your face, and you mask your sudden nervousness quickly. “You’re right. Just a touch more vanilla. I think a teaspoon will be perfect.” 

“Okay, thanks. I remember making it before, and…” Choso continues talking about the icing, but your brain tunes it out when you stare at him again. He was so attractive that it wasn’t fair. You’re certain that you’ve never wanted anyone this bad before. You promised yourself on the day you moved in that you wouldn’t fall for him. He worked a lot, and when he wasn’t working, he was a caring older brother to Yuuji. You assumed that he barely had time for anything else.

“Hey.” 

His low voice snaps you back to reality, and embarrassment creeps into your gut. “What was that? I’m sorry for being spaced out. I barely got any sleep last night,” you lie. 

You think he sees right through it, because he’s stepping closer to where you’re leaning against the counter. He places his hands on either side of the countertop, trapping you in between his arms—directly in front of him and nowhere to go. Your heart begins to race as he leans closer to you, the faint, fresh scent of his body wash filling your nose. The corner of his mouth slightly lifts, and the look in his dark eyes gives it away. 

He’s amused. 

“I asked if you could grab a bowl from the cabinet behind you so I could put the eggs in it,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah,” you reply with a soft exhale. “No problem.” You turn around carefully, then lift your arm to open the cabinet, trying to pretend that you don’t literally feel him behind you. You grab a medium-sized bowl. “This one okay?” 

There’s silence, then you feel Choso’s gentle touch. His large hand holds your waist, and his other arm reaches up towards the shelf you took the bowl from, grabbing another one that was a bit larger. 

“I was thinking that this one would be better,” he whispers into your ear. 

You put the other bowl back before your slippery palm lets it fall, and Choso takes a step back and flashes a smile at you. “Nearly done with the food. Could you let Yuuji and Megumi know?” 

You do your best to hide how flustered you are, and nod. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go grab them. I’ll be back.” 

As you turn to leave the kitchen, you hear his quiet, amused chuckle, eventually drowned out by the sound of him putting some used dishes into the sink. 

Oh, he was definitely toying with you. 

-------

a/n: so do y'all know that one choso fanart of him wearing only sweatpants and making breakfast? yeahhhhhhhhhh

also ik we mostly hc him as being shy (and i love it) but there's something about him being the one doing the teasing.

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: gunplay (ghoap x reader) cw: the tiniest of dub-con if you squint 1.8k of this foolishness and im pretty sure i lost the plot somewhere but in my defense, guns don't interest me

When you wake, you notice that Ghost isn’t in the tent. His bedroll neatly rolled up and put away in its usual spot and by the looks of things, he's been gone for quite some time. You sit up, the morning light filtering through the tent's fabric— the soft, diffused glow creating gentle shadows on the ground.

Outside, the air is crisp and sweet, dew still fresh on the grass, damp beneath your bare feet. Soap's lone mare is tied to the hitching post, tail flicking lazily as she eats off the hay net.

The campsite is quiet except for the chirping of birds and Soap's deep, growling snores coming from behind you. Ghost isn't here. Ghost isn't here. The thought bounces around in your skull, heart loud in your ears as the realization begins to sink in.

You could get away, slip away unnoticed from these two who've kept you as their reluctant companion since they wrangled you up in a rowdy saloon a couple of towns back with your hand deep in someone else's pocket. "Behave and we won't give ya up for the meager bounty yer worth." Or worse. The three of you knew no one would miss you, no family or friends to claim the body if you ended up face down on a riverbank.

It’s now or never. Freedom stands in front of you in a glossy, white coat and a braided mane, but being Soap’s horse, even approaching her will be a gamble. You'll just have to risk getting bucked off and trampled on.

When you go back inside to gather the few belongings you've got, you spot Soap's gun belt in all its worn leather glory lying in a tangled heap in the corner, revolvers still snug in their holsters. He must've gotten in late from town, the reward for the bounty he turned in last night traded in for hooch.

A mistake. His costly mistake. And a chance to ride his mare relatively unharmed. Your fingers tremble as they wrap around the handle, the ingrained symbol digging into your palm as you tighten your grip. You may not be a gunslinger with the fastest draw in the West, but you do know what end to point at someone.

But Soap's a bounty hunter and a damn good one. His reflexes are fast— faster than they should be with his dense, muscular build.  You've seen him close gaps with an unnatural speed that’s left even the toughest men reeling. He's a relentless force of pursuit when he wants to be and keeping him at a distance is a losing game, especially when you've no prior experience using a gun. Your only option is to corner him, limit his options. Every man bends the knee to power, and right now, you've got it in your clammy hand.

You straddle him, knees planted firmly on either side of his lower ribs, and press the barrel onto the left side of his jaw. Incredible, not even a hitch in his breathing, as if you're not sitting on him with your full weight. Fisting the front of his union shirt, you tug, the sharp, sudden sting of his chest hair being pulled taut waking him out of his deep sleep.

His bleary eyes snap open, blinking away any traces of sleep within moments, the new day's light catching the edges of his irises, making them gleam with an almost otherworldly brightness as they sweep the tent for any real danger.

Your breathing turns ragged once they land on you, satisfied, a wolfish grin tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a hint of teeth. Dread claws at your gut, your nerves rattled, but you meet his gaze head-on. There is no room for hesitation, for doubt, not when the man you've got pinned with his own weapon is more touched in the head than Ghost is.

"I ken I'm handsome but all ye ‘ad t'do was ask, hen. I'm achin' fer the hair o' the hound if ye got any, though." His tone gives away nothing, his body completely lax. Even the rise and fall of his chest is steady, slow. You know better than to believe he isn't waiting on you to make the next move to retaliate, so you don't move. Neither of you do.

"You'll take me to town and you'll leave me there. Compared to the other folk you rope up and dump at the Sheriff's feet, I'm worth nothing." You'll make yourself scarce, move to a different state, maybe. A new life, a decent one. Honest work.

His smile widens, the puckered scar on his chin stretching. "Didnae think to take my girl? She's righ' there, saddle 'n all." Soap must think you daft.

"I want to disappear without drawing a target on my head large enough for you to see from across state lines." He would've hunted you down for sport, at that point. Soap blinks once, thrice, and then you have a solid weight pushing on your back, sudden and unexpected, forcing your upper body forward, your shoulders hunching in reflex.

The very familiar scent of earth and mildly ripe sweat sends a shiver licking up your spine, locking every notch firmly into place. Why you hadn't heard him arrive at camp or open the flaps to the tent is now irrelevant. Ghost is here now and you've nowhere to run, definitely not with Soap grabbing onto the soft of your waist, tethers made of human flesh and bone.

The weathered leather of his glove feels unexpectedly soft as his fingers curl around your trembling hand. "If you're gonna threaten ‘im, ya gotta do it proper," he mutters, breath warm against the shell of your ear. His voice is a low, rolling rumble, the kind he takes when calming his panicked horse.

"Easy now, settle down, loosen your arm a little." It does nothing to soothe you, Ghost looming larger than the gun in your grip, making it feel almost insignificant— a mere prop in the face of his overwhelming presence and the voice in your head screams at you to bare your neck, submit, and hope he goes for your jugular quickly, death seemingly a better choice than whatever game he’s making you play. "Open up, Johnny."

He does so readily, a transparent string of saliva stretching between his top and bottom teeth. Ghost's denim-clad thighs bracket yours as he settles comfortably behind you, his barrel chest engulfing the entirety of your back with space to spare.

Soap lies there with his tongue out like a dog on a hot, summer's day, mouth open wide enough for you to see the ridges and grooves of his molars. Ghost forcibly moves your hand, metal scraping against Soap's stubble with a coarse, gritty sound.

“Lie still Johnny, ya hear?” his pointer finger hovering over the trigger. The lump that’s risen to your throat makes breathing hard, each swallow a struggle. You never intended to fire a shot, just hoped the threat of life and death would be enough to make things go your way. 

“W-wait,” you gurgle out but Ghost’s hand only tightens around yours. 

“Can’t get cold feet now, sweet’eart, not when Soap’s southern blood is pumpin’ ‘cause a you.” His-? You take notice of it then, the rigid swelling between your legs, pushing up into your center. As if to drive the point home, Soap bucks his hips while pulling you down, making the inseam of your pants brush against your pearl. 

“Oh-,” he does it again, and again, the leaden lump of dread that had once anchored itself in your belly begins to melt away, becoming an insistent ache that quickens your heartbeat and warms your veins, a mellow heat radiating from your core outward.

And then two things happen at once. 

Soap takes the pistol’s barrel into his mouth, slightly pursing his lips as he creates a seal around it, and his cheeks gently hollow as he bobs his head forward and back, and Ghost slowly weaves his unoccupied hand south, under your jeans and underwear, the roughened tips of his fingers quickly finding what you’ve been forced to neglect for months. 

Soap grunts, a gravelly resonant sound— rich and full— when you dig your nails into the meat of his chest as Ghost jerks erratic little circles on your puffy clit, sending shockwaves through your stomach, each wave headier than the last. 

“Can’t let ‘im ‘ave all the fun, eh?” The pressure on your waist is enough to ache, your flesh already throbbing beneath Soap’s hands, and the closer you get to the precipice, the harder they squeeze. 

Metal clacks against tooth every time your body tenses, muscles constrict, unable to keep your arm steady even with Ghost’s iron grip over your own. Soap’s a slobbering mess, spit dribbling down his chin, pistol glossy with it as he sucks on it as if it were a man’s cock instead.

(Maybe he wants it to be.) 

A couple of hiccups claw up your throat as the sticky, wet sounds of Soap’s mouth get drowned out by the shrill ringing in your ears as you teeter on the sharpened edge, Ghost’s pace on you turning frantic, almost violent, and—

“Keep those pretty eyes on Johnny, he’s been dreamin’ of lookin’ at ya in the face while you come.”

Ghost tossing the gun aside, metal skidding across the floor, and you’re coming apart with Soap’s tongue in your mouth, swallowing your every gasp and moan.

It tastes like the lubricant he uses to clean his gun. Metallic. Tangy. Slightly acrid.

You’re barely able to draw in a breath when Ghost is already tugging your pants off, waistband coming to settle snugly right below your arse, exposing only what he needs, a couple of fingers gliding along your folds, curling right at your entrance.

But he doesn’t do what you expect; for him to sink into cunt, fill it to the brim, distended until you’ve got tears clumping your eyelashes and blood on your tongue. 

(It’s been a very long time since you’ve last laid with a man, and not one has ever been as big as he in stature.)

Instead, he takes Soap’s bare length in one giant paw, using your creamy slick for better friction, and ruts his own heavy cock against it until they’re both spurting the warm spend Ghost crams into your needy hole with two fingers.

“‘M not fuckin’ you, not after your stupid little stunt,” he says as if he’s talking about the weather, and you’re not sure if laughing will stop the hysterical sob about to slither past your trembling lips. 

Soap stares up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, content, satiated unlike you, and pinches your cheek with his fingers. “Next time ye want tae threaten a person—,” his voice peters off, and you can feel Ghost wiping his hand on the back of your shirt before reaching for Soap’s pistol and pressing a button, the cylinder dropping open.

Empty. Every single chamber is hollow, like the empty sockets of a honeycomb. “Make sure it’s loaded, sweet’eart.”

Un. fucking. Believable.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Onychinus Personal Chef III

ꩇׁׅ݊ You became Sylus' personal chef based off of pure chance. He's picky, he's annoying and he is just so damn fine. ꩇׁׅ݊ fem!reader, sylus x personal-chef!reader pt 3 of a 3 part series ꩇׁׅ݊ pt. 1 .... ꩇׁׅ݊ pt. 2

6 months later…..

You grew to tolerate Sylus as time went by. Who were you kidding you had such a big crush on your boss it was ridiculous. You kept your feelings to yourself though because even though you would let him bend you over his kitchen island this was your job and you needed to draw a professional line somewhere.

Besides he could have any woman he wants there's no way he'd want his personal chef. You needed to remain professional you couldn't afford to lose a once in a lifetime job like this. You blatantly ignored his flirting hoping that would help keep your feelings from growing.

'He’s a calculated man he just enjoys the games' That's what you told yourself whenever he flirted.

“Girl you are quite literally living the life what’s the problem?” Your best friend said over the phone as you were laying in bed after a busy day of back to back orders from your boss and the twins; mainly the twins.

“Yea I know it’s just it’s getting hard having to be around him every day and my thoughts are just getting worse and worse” You palmed your forehead and fell back against your headboard. “Let me guess you were folding an omelet and imagined him folding you like an omelet instead?” You stared at the phone in silence. “Well?”

“Bitch I almost burned the omelet” You two burst into a fit of laughter just as you heard a knock at the door. “I’ll call you back” You quickly hung up the phone and ran to your bedroom door. “Yes?” You cracked the door open and see two faces that always make your day. “Luke! Kieran! Hi what can I do for you?”

“Uhh me and Luke were wondering if you’d be up for making those lemon tarts you made yesterday we know it late and it’s fine if you just want to sleep-”

“Of course I'll make my favorite boys some lemon tarts go start zesting the lemons and I'll be right there I just need to tie my hair back” You always enjoyed cooking and the twins made it all the better. They’d become your closest friends while living here.

Once you’d made one too many lemon tarts and the boys were now yawning after their late night treat you started cleaning up. “Go lay down you know how Sylus gets when you two fall asleep at the counter” They nodded and disappeared out of the kitchen.

You were just finishing up cleaning when you felt someones presence. “You know the cleaners can do all of this for you right?” You kept your back to Sylus as you finished scrubbing the last bowl. “I know, but why give them more work when they already have this entire place to keep clean”

“You made lemon tarts?” Sylus asked seemingly ignoring your response as he picked up one of your tarts. You finally turn to see him standing on the other side of the kitchen in nothing, but a pair of gray sweats. His entire upper half was drool worthy and so was the print in his pants. You had to quickly divert your attention before you actually started drooling. “Yes you can have that one”

“They’re my favorite” His low sultry voice had your skin hot and your heart racing. “There’s only one left?” You nodded as you continuously scrubbed the obviously clean bowl in the sink. “Yes Sir I hope you enjoy it”

“Did you get one?” He asked and you could hear his footsteps getting closer and that heady scent of his beginning to waft around you "and what's with the sudden formality?"

You shook your head as you moved to dry the bowl off by hand. Anything to make space between you and him. "I tasted as I made them and you're my boss sir" You were unsuccessful with the attempt to put any space between you two because once you were done drying the bowl you couldn't reach the shelf that it needed to go on. Suddenly you felt Sylus' hand brush yours as he grabbed the bowl and placed it on the shelf. Just as you were about to run again he turned you to face him.

“Speak. What's wrong?” He questioned with a quirked brow. You looked anywhere, but at him as you searched your brain for anyway to keep this conversation professional. “The twins ate the rest …. they requested them Sir” You tried to sound confident, but your voice came out breathy. "That's not what I asked" His voice was as smooth as velvet and it had your stomach doing back flips.

Damn it.

"Sylus it feels like you're playing with my emotions and I'm trying my hardest to remain professional" Your frustration was palpable and all Sylus did was eye you with a smirk before putting his attention on the tart in his hand. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as he took a bite; relishing in the taste. “You have some on your lip” You reached up to wipe it and stopped yourself only for Sylus to grab your wrist and use your finger to wipe his lip. He then turned your hand and guided your finger onto your bottom lip smearing the sweet and tangy filling on your lip. Your tongue darted out instinctively tasting it and for some reason it tasted even better this way.

“Is this what they call an indirect kiss?” He questioned as he held onto your wrist and continued to close the distance between you two. “Y-Yea I guess” Your voice was nothing but a breathy whisper. Why was he acting like this? His gaze was so intense it almost seemed like he wanted it to be a direct kiss. That’s when you notice Sylus had you backed up against the counter. You panicked as you realized your composure was starting to slip “I should probably get to bed I have a lot of prep to do tomorrow for a certain someone who likes to give me complicated ass meal requests” You mentally high five yourself for not stuttering considering the fact that his scent was so intoxicating you were damn near melting. You needed to get away from him before you did something you’d regret.

Sylus sat the tart down behind you trapping you between him and the counter. “Complicated?” He said as he tipped your chin up and leaned in closer giving him direct access to a searing kiss if he wanted it. Part of you really hoped he wanted it as much as you did. “Yes you’re very picky Mr. Qin” Sylus could feel your breath on his lips; his gazed snapped down to your lips which immediately parted. “Why do you think I chose you?” Before you could question what he just said he dipped his head connecting his lips with yours in a heated kiss. You froze for a second your brain not wanting to believe what is happening when you felt Sylus swipe his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened up moaning into his mouth as you melted into the kiss.

Sylus held you close to his body, one arm snaking around your waist and his other hand gripping the nape of your neck. You pulled away out of breath; your heavy breaths mingling with his. He placed one last quick kiss on your lips before grabbing his half-eaten tart and turning to leave. Just as he reached the doorway he stopped and glanced over his shoulder “I hope that was clear enough for you about where I stand” and with that he turned and headed down the hall.

You fell to your knees immediately once he was out of sight. “Did that really just happen?”

ꩇׁׅ݊ taglist ; @mangooes @mourning-into-dancing @ladyparamount @kindalonely-ngl @everythingistaken00

ꩇׁׅ݊ Just realized this could have another part …. I like baby cliffhangers though. Maybe there will be a part 4 no promises MUAH💋

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna accidentally bumping into you at a café. *inspired* by this ask!

college sukuna masterlist

The bells right next to the front door chime when he enters the café. Today he’s distracted: the kitchen sink back at the apartment is currently leaking and he’s searching online for someone to come look at it. Not that he didn’t already try to fix it, but he doesn’t have the right bolt to repair it alone. He’s just going to order the usual, sit at one of the tables in the corner and play candy crush until Yuuji gets out of school.

He’s a regular here since his brother’s elementary school is right in front of it. Sometimes he just wants to kill time, and pastries here are good for his macros. Or at least he tells himself so.

“Hello, what can I get you?” A female voice asks him from the register. He doesn’t strain his gaze from his phone.

“The usual,” he says. Then he thinks about the familiar voice he just heard and snaps his head up.

“What are you doing here?” “Sukuna?” You both say at the same time.

His surprised face morphs into a smug one in a split second.

“Didn’t know you liked me so much that you started to follow me, baby. You could’ve just waited for me at home if you missed me that much, I would’ve made sure to put some cream in your… coffee,” he says winking at you.

You put on a fake smile before answering. His innuendos are getting worse by the day, he’s disgusting.

“I’m going to poison your coffee if you keep this up, Itadori,” you whisper, as to not make the manager hear you. “Go get some pussy, please, you’re insufferable,” you whine when he gets closer.

He looks you up and down, licking a corner of his lips, mischief still in his gaze. He knows you’re right, sometimes he does a bit too much, but the way you huff and puff brings him more joy than any game on his phone does.

“You know I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, Y/N. I don’t fuck snitches,” he responds, rolling his eyes.

You chuckle at that. This has been one of your inside jokes since the start. You managed to file 15 noise complaints in the first three weeks of your stay in the apartment, and the owner had to threaten to kick out Sukuna if he didn’t stop fucking girls so loudly. Sukuna had to agree and bite his tongue 5 times during that conversation. He knew you filed the complaints just because he didn’t want to say he was the one who ate Yuuji’s cookies, instead blaming you. Yuuji didn’t talk to you for a day for that, and you took it to heart.

Also, you exaggerated how many times he fucked inside the apartment. By a lot. You knew he had game, or at least you were certain of that seeing how confident he was, but he also hated when Yuuji managed to see some of the girls. Which happened only one time and it was when you moved in. You just filed noise complaints for every little noise you heard from his room, and seeing how the landlord didn’t doubt Sukuna had game either, you won by default.

“So… One black coffee? I don’t know your usual, I’m just covering a friend for today. It’s been a long day,” you say sheepishly, putting some of your hair behind your ear, cringing when you hear your own voice. Suddenly, the screen of the menu is so interesting to you. It’s not like you’re embarrassed as hell to see him here when you’re clumsily trying to understand how things work. It’s not like you’re trying not to look at him at all. Fuck. He is never going to let you live it down if you make a wrong move.

“I can see that,” he adds, serious. He sees your crestfallen look when he finishes his sentence. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud, even if it is pretty obvious. He never saw you this nervous.

“Couldn’t you just fucking lie?” You grit out, composing yourself, pinning him with some sort of rage.

“Not my style, doll,” he answers, raising his shoulders. Your eyes turn into slits and you’re about to say something else when he catches movement behind the counter. The manager.

“Two coffees and a strawberry cake,” he says, getting back to his phone.

You raise an eyebrow. You thought he hated strawberries. You start typing his total when said manager turns to Sukuna.

“Your total is-“

“Man, I haven’t seen you in ages,” the man behind you enthusiastically interrupts you.

“Satoru,” the pink haired man nods, pocketing his phone and making some sort of special handshake with him. They know each other?

“Mind if your coworker here comes home with me?” Sukuna asks the handsome man you have next to you.

Your manager is silent for what feels like 10 long seconds. “Y/N, don’t give into this brute,” he tells you, staring at you behind those dark ass black glasses he wore the entirety of the day. He managed to do the work of three people without breaking a sweat, but he also spent most of his time tasting pastries the chef cooked. He’s nice, you think. But he’s weird as hell. No wonder they’re friends.

“He’s actually my roommate, boss,” you say, smiling up at him. Then you look at Sukuna and your smile drops. “Unfortunately.” Your said roommate flips you off.

“You know what, fuck you. I was just doing you a favour by letting you go earlier, stupid,” Sukuna says, bored.

The white haired man chuckles at the interaction, then tilts his glasses down his nose to look at the man in front of you, amused. “Oh, it’s her, huh.”

Sukuna snarls. “She’s a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he’s talked about me? What did he say? Is it enough to kick him out and ask for Yuuji’s custody?” you ask, mockingly. Your manager turns to you and you’re almost blinded by how blue his eyes are. You genuinely have to blink a couple of times to make sure you’re still able to see.

He completely ignores your questions, giving you a once over. Then he gets his glasses back on correctly.

“Go home, Y/N, don’t worry. You’ve done an excellent job today. Feel free to come whenever,” he says, giving you a smile as bright as his eyes, then leaves while you think about how your cornea must be damaged now.

“Off the clock, come on,” Sukuna says, taking his phone out again, not sparing you a glance.

“Why don’t you jump off of my dick instead,” you hiss, going to take your purse from the service room. You don’t see the way he tips you anyway, even if you didn’t ask, and takes his order to the nearest table, positioning the cake in front of him. Like he’s waiting for someone.

You get back out front and side eye him, rummaging through your purse violently before sighing defiantly. You forgot your keys.

You turn around to look at Sukuna, who is just a couple of tables away, jumping a little when his eyes are already on you. He gives you a confused look behind his cup of coffee, before putting it down and mouthing “You look stupid, come sit.” You raise one of your eyebrows and you’re going to flip him off when someone bumps into you.

“Yo, cutie,” the man in front of you addresses you. You smile politely and sidestep to the left, getting out of the way, but he follows your movement, positioning himself closer to you.

“I was wondering if you were free now that you don’t have that little apron on,” he tells you languidly, swiping your arm up and down with his hand, stopping at your shoulder. When you try to get it off, he just grips you harder.

“Get your hand off of me or you’re getting kicked in the balls in front of everyone,” you deadpan. He’s slimy, probably conventionally attractive for a lot of girls, but he’s creepy.

He whistles lowly. “I love it when they’re a little feisty,” he smirks, trying to get even closer. You’re raising your knee when he gets pushed off of you and you kick a strong thigh instead. You widen your eyes comically and the man you just kicked winces.

“Man, what the fuck-“ the creep starts, before getting interrupted.

“Don’t touch my girl,” Sukuna seethes. The man takes a step back. Your heart skips a beat. You didn’t think he’d come to your rescue. “Even if her kicks are strong as fuck, I gotta say that. I might have unfortunately just saved your sorry ass’ future sad child,” he says, glancing at you. You giggle.

“There’s no way a fine thing like that is with you,” the man continues blabbering, albeit scared of Sukuna’s imposing feature.

“There’s no way a fine thing like me could ever be with someone like you, you mean,” you say, standing closer to Sukuna.

The man scoffs. “You could do so much better.”

"You? Lying is a sin, motherfucker."

On cue, Sukuna raises one of his arms and drapes it over your shoulder. You’re surprised by how delicately he gets you closer to his body, like he’s thinking you aren’t going to like what he’s doing. You look up at him, laying your hand on his chest, giving him the okay. He stares down at you, swallowing.

“Yeah, I’m lucky,” he says thickly, smirking, before lightly kissing your forehead. The kiss is barely there, you wouldn’t even have felt it if right now you weren’t hyper aware of how intoxicating and warm his body pressed to yours feels. You think you might have a fever from how much the spot he grazed is scorching. Your ears are buzzing, and you don’t distinguish the words the two men are exchanging, getting out of your daze only when the creep exits the cafe with his tail between his legs.

“I didn’t need you, you know,” you say to Sukuna, still looking up, letting your hand fall from his chest. Fuck, he’s ripped.

He nonchalantly gets the bag your manager (grinning behind his hand) is passing him before escorting you out. You notice he didn’t get his arm off of you, and you realise you don’t really mind the soft weight of it. Or maybe you just don’t mind being close to him. Or maybe you don’t mind him at all.

“Now you can tell Yuuji how fucking cool his brother is,” he shrugs, getting you imperceptibly closer to him. You roll your eyes, whining, while he huffs out a laugh.

Back at home, Sukuna goes to take a shower, leaving you with a yapping Yuuji. He’s telling you about his day at school and you get your phone out to read the text you just received, noticing the ping sound.

Worst roommate ever: the cake is urs. eat it. or don’t. idc

[redr0sewrites]

NNN with the ACOTAR men

🥀A/n: surprise...! sorry for not writing for a MONTH ive been doing this. whoops.

🥀Cw: smut, nsfw, vague description of genitals, switch!reader. teasing

🥀Character(s): Eris Vanserra, Lucien Vanserra, Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel x reader (seperate)

🥀divider: @chachachannah <3

🥀minors dni

Eris Vanserra:

Eris is,,,, lukewarm to the idea to say the least. why on earth would he want to not fuck you for a whole month?

probably takes a lot of pleading to get him to agree ngl, but once he does agree..... HE IS MAKING IT

definitely lasts the whole month, no questions asked

there is no way his resolve is breaking im sorry i just dont see it. no matter how hard you tease him, Eris' only response is a noncommittal "hmm," and a devilish smirk.

he's definitely giving you a taste of your own medicine too- be prepared for teasing from HIM

he'd sneak up behind you and grab your waist, whispering filthy words in your ear about what exactly he's planning to do the minute the month is over... only to pull away and "tut" smugly

he's going to be soo mean if you give up, especially if you challenged him. the teasing is fifteen times worse, and on top of that he's STILL abstaining because even if you're not making it... hes seeing this through!

hes a lovable asshole about it.

"aw, can't even go a whole month without me?"

i feel like towards the end of the month, he'd get irritable and pent up. he has a high-stress life after all, and not getting any release on his frustration can take its toll. Eris would never take it out on you, but expect him to be a little more curt and snippy than usual

once the month is done though? be PREPARED. Eris is a lot more rough and intense when he's pent up, and would be adamant about making up on lost time. you're probably not leaving your shared bedroom for AT LEAST three days. even when you both aren't fucking, he's pressing kisses up and down your body and memorizing everything he didn't get to see throughout the month

i also see him being a lot more passionate at the end of the month. he won't admit it, but he missed getting to fuck you

overall, he'd last, but he would not like it and would make it up to you

"missed me, huh?" Eris coos, sinking into your aching hole. his skin is warm, almosst burning against your own as his tip just kisses that sensitive spot inside you, providing a tantalizing sensation of pleasure.

"f'course i did," you murmur, tightening your legs around his waist. your sat in his lap, completely bare, and his hands travel to cup at your chest.

"oh really?" Eris' gaze is calculating as he presses a nipple between two lithe fingers, rolling the sensitive bud and watching you squirm. "then why did you make me wait so long, darling?"

"mnh- 'was just a game..." you whine, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as Eris slowly begins to thrust in and out. you clench around him tightly with every roll of his hips, and his free hand begins to rub your clit/cock.

"just a game? well, why don't we play a game, hm? lets see how many times i can make you cum," Eris purrs, and you nod fervently. his eyed narrow, and he paused in his ministrations.

"use your words."

you arch your back, pleading for his touch again. "please make me cum, Er..." Eris chuckles at your obedience, before returning to stroking you, increasing his pace as he did so. "whatever my darling mate desires~"

Lucien Vanserra:

Lucien would not like the idea- he'd miss you too much, and i also feel like he has a pretty high libido in and of itself

he'd do it to make you happy, but i really don't see him lasting. Lucien would make it halfway through the month MAX. you tease him once and he folds- he's very whipped for u !!!

probably lasts at least 2 weeks, but after that he really doesn't pay much mind to it

sooooo fun to tease, in my mind he's the type to be unabashedly in LOVE with his partner and isn't afraid of acting flustered when you catch him off guard. he loves seeing you in lingerie and it's probably one of the easiest things you can do to get him to give in

i also can see him teasing you too- he's very flirtatious in nature, and if he wants you, he's pulling all the stops to see if he can make you break- ESPECIALLY if he gives up and you continue trying and to last the whole month

if you don't tease him throughout the month or give him reason to give up, i think that Lucien may have a sliiightly higher chance of making it through the month- but its still not guaranteed. like i said, he has a high libido and even if he doesnt fuck you he'll probably still end up masturbating

when it comes to the end of the month be PREPARED- he is absolutely waking you up at 12:01 because he "wants you so bad". its hard to say no to him when he's being all sweet and compliant, but know that it won't last bc he will very soon turn into a MENACE. if you can still walk, then he's not done

"you're simply divine," Lucien murmurs, almost worshipful as his lips trail up your navel. with each rise and fall of your chest, his sinful mouth travels higher and higher, kissing and sucking over marks he had left from previous rounds in a wanton mix of lust and love. his eyes never leave yours, his gaze reverent and his mechanical eye whirring as he takes you in, observing you as though you might disappear.

"perfect," he whispers breathlessly, crawling above your nude form and supporting himself with a strong arm on either side of your head. your lips meet in a sickeningly sweet kiss, and he rolls his hips tantalizingly against yours.

"mngh- jus' came!" you whine, and Lucien chuckles breathlessly against your lips.

"you can give me one more, hm?"

Rhysand:

i think Rhysand is a bit of a wild card, i think he would be into the idea at first, as he loves a good competition, but after realizing what it fully entails, he'd be pouty about not getting to sleep with you for a whole month. like, do you even love him anymore???

he'd probably make it to at least 3 weeks -> the end of the month

in all seriousness though, i think whether or not he makes it depends on how much you want to make it- if you don't tease him or don't try too hard, then i can see him making it with ease, but if you turn him on? ohhh he's not letting you go without making you both lose.

i see Rhys as kind of a hornball, genuinely it doesn't take much to turn him on, but it's whether or not you do it intentionally that really gets him going. like seeing down the front of your chest on accident? sure, he's horny, but he'll get over it. you intentionally bend down in front of him in a loose shirt, or flash him as a joke? ohhh he needs you now.

PETTIEST TEASE !!!!! you think you can get away with teasing him with no repercussions? think again, because he'll make you come running to HIMMM- he's sending you nudes through the mating bond randomly throughout the day, he's flashing you, he'll wear lingerie under his suit and tell you about it inconspicuously, stuff like that

Rhys is also quite touchy, i genuinely see him being like. clingy. especially when he misses you. what he can't have in sexual intimacy throughout the month, he makes up for in physical intimacy as he is practically almost ALWAYS at your side, and demands a lot more of your attention than usual. not in a bad way, he just loves when you focus on him

when the month is over, he's actually turning into a FREAK. instead of waking you up, he invades your dream, filling it with his own dirty desires so that you wake up aaallll hot n bothered. then and only then does he give in to his own lust and fuck you senseless

you awake with a gasp, feeling a sticky heat between your legs. your cheeks flush as memories of your more than pleasant dream fill your mind, clueing you in to the reason behind your own arousal.

"i see someone had a good dream," a sensual voice purrs in your ear, and you whip around to face the violet-eyed speaker.

"this is your fault, Rhys. i know your behind that.. dream." you grumble, and he lets out a velvety laugh.

"oh, but you'll never prove it~" he teases, but your having none of it. you waste no time in pushing him down against the bed, moving to straddle him and grinding down hard.

"s-someones being forward tonight," Rhysand hisses, hips jolting upwards to meet your impatient humping.

"hah- f'course i am, its been a, a month! i swear, if you don't shut up and fuck me Rhysand i will-" your cut off with a yelp as strong arms find purchase on your waist, flipping you over so that your pinned down beneath your lover.

"be careful what you wish for, darling."

Cassian:

loves the idea of NNN in theory... hates it in execution. Cassian is probably more overconfident in his abilities to abstain from sex than he is actually capable of in reality, so he goes into NNN ready to face it head on- only to CRUMBLE by week two because he just needs to cum.

lasts 2.5 weeks TOPS.

Cassian is always packing some sort of heat, his dick is big big, and he swears he's never noticed it until now. literally everything you do gives him a ridiculous hard on- it's almost embarrassing. its a phenomenon, the more he can't have you, the more he wants you!

Cassian could probably withstand torture, but can't withstand your teasing. just a few lustful innuendos and giving him a look and he's down on his knees practically begging you to let him fuck you, just the tip, he promises he won't even cum.... (lies)

can not take teasing, but he's pretty good at teasing you- although not subtly. not subtly at all. comes up behind you and grabs your hips with two big hands, pressing his boner against your ass like,,,, hey. whispers absolute filth into your ear until he's borderline humping you, and is so caught up in the moment that he can't focus on anything (or anyone) other than you if you don't give in then your better than me fr

at the end of the month Cassian is practically in heat, he's nearly drooling with need as he shakes you awake, ready to beg politely ask you to just fuck him already...

rough hands gently cup your face, and scratchy stubble tickles your cheeks as your lover plants kisses all across your face.

"babe," Cassian murmurs, "its december." you hum, shifting slowly into the realm of consciousness and turning to look at him.

"and?" you tease, feigning innocence as Cassian pouts. "oh, fuck you," he grumbles, nuzzling his head into your neck, and you giggle.

"aw, the big strong illyrian warrior can't last a month without me?"

"f'course i can't. it's you, afterall." you feel Cassian's grin against your neck, and hum thoughtfully. one of your hands trails to his wings, rubbing gently over the sensitive membrane. Cassian lets out a strangled moan, rolling his hips desperately as he begins to grind on your thigh.

"fffuck, hun, jus' like that," he slurs, shuddering as you continue stroking is wings. "you're so perfect f'me," he mumbles, increasing his pace.

"cum for me, Cassian," you mumble, pressing a kiss to his temple and feeling his breath shudder against your neck. suddenly, he pauses his motions, gently pulling your hand from his twitching wings.

"hngh- hah, not yet- wanna be inside you first."

Azriel:

i don't think Azriel would care too heavily about NNN, if you were into it he'd do it but he doesn't feel too strongly about it- however, he is quite competitive, and will take it seriously if you challenge him

Azriel is making it through the month no questions asked. i simply can not see him giving in- he loves you dearly, but nothing will stop him from winning

honestly, your probably more at risk of giving in then him- he's teasing you worse than anything you could ever do to him, only to pull away last minute and watch you squirm with arousal. you're also NOT getting away with teasing Azriel because he WILL get you back ten times worse, that is a promise

you "accidentally" brush over his crotch? what a shame, he's "accidentally" grinding on you. you moan in his ear? he's dirty talking to you in front of your entire friend group. you wear something provocative? he will take his shirt off in front of you. he WILL get you back, and it will be worse than anything u give to him

at this point he's just downright Evil with his teasing- like he's coming into YOUR room, kissing you senseless until your all hot n bothered, and then just leaving!!! Evil!!!!!

definitelt tries to piss you off and get you needy just because he thinks it's attractive- the hornier you are the happier he is !

when the month is over, he's merciless. probably edges you and then overstimulates you for LITERAL hours, still teasing you and trying to piss you off solely because he can. however, he does reach his breaking point eventually, and when he does i DOUBT you will be walking for 2-5 business days because he will be ROUGH

the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the scent of sex invaded your senses. your own pleasured moans drown out the sound of Azriel's cock squelching in and out of your aching hole with each thrust, his breath hot and heavy on your neck. large, scarred hands find purchase on your hips, and your thighs tremble as he forces you deeper into a mating press. he holds your gaze as one hand begins to toy with your clit/cock, his calculated motions bringing you to the edge yet again.

"uh-huh, y'like that?" Azriel smirks, watching as you writhe and moan. "y'wanna cum this time baby?"

"p-please! please Az, 'm so close," your voice is cracked and embarrassingly whiny, your hips rolling against his with every thrust.

"patience, baby," he murmurs, pressing feather light kisses to the soft skin of your neck.

"you'll get your turn. i've waited a whole month, you'll let me have my fun, hm?"

[villainbait]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: Explicit | 18+ Tags: angry sylus, playful struggling, teasing, dirty talk, smut, fingering, mc/reader is a brat, punishment, overstimulation if you squint Summary: You had almost cost Sylus something important tonight and for once, he's pissed. Word Count: 1.3k

The door to Onychinus’s base had barely clicked shut behind you before Sylus has you hoisted over his shoulder, his long strides taking you swiftly down the hallway towards his bedroom. Your heart flip flops uneasily in your stomach when you realize where he’s headed, and you start to struggle in earnest. His demeanor had completely changed the moment you arrived home, though the walk there had been more tense than usual.

“Wha- hey! Sylus, put me down!” You’re suddenly squirming in his grip, your fists drumming uselessly against his back and you lose a heel in the process; the forgotten ornament left behind on the floor. You only stop fighting when his hand slides under the slit in your dress to keep you from falling, and you forget how to breathe as you feel the heat of it between your thighs. Infuriatingly, Sylus hasn’t said a single word and it starts to sink in that you might have gone too far earlier tonight. 

It had started out as a simple game under the table at some business dinner he had made you go to. You were bored and he looked so good sitting across from you, but he wasn’t giving you any attention at all. Instead, he was talking to some other woman who kept touching him with increasingly lingering touches that made you reconsider what the definition of assault was. Worse, Sylus seemed to preen under her attention, his honeyed smile blinding in the soft ambience of the room. Jealousy had begun to eat at you and you were half-convinced he was doing it on purpose, but then you had the perfect idea of how to get back at him. 

It was time for you to play a little game of your own, kicking off your heel discreetly under the table and running your stocking covered foot underneath the tailored leg of his pants. He managed to keep his composure, his slight flinch of surprise only noticeable to you. When he turned to look at you you were already engaged in conversation with one of your own dinner mates, pretending to be oblivious. His eyes narrowed as your foot slid higher with every pass, coming dangerously close to a part of him that was quickly becoming uncooperative despite the ugly hag he was attempting to extract intel from. 

You had almost ruined it all and for once, Sylus was angry. 

He dumps you unceremoniously onto the bed and you try to scramble away but he’s on you faster than you can move. He captures and stretches your wrists over your head easily with one hand, his knee sliding between your thighs as he pushes you into the soft mattress. He slides between your thighs and his hips press against yours, trapping you. The warmth of his anger is radiating off him and you can feel how hot and hard he is despite how angry he looks. Had your antics earlier really affected him that much? 

You whine and futilely struggle against him until he looms over you and quells your struggles with a piercing gaze.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” His voice was low and dangerous, making you tense with anticipated dread. Oh, Sylus was furious. Still, you’d gone this far, you weren’t going to back down now. 

“Only that I didn’t finish the job.” You jut your lower lip out petulantly and his scoff is pure exasperation.

“Fiesty, kitten.” He almost smiles, but then he’s serious again.

“Did you really think I would enjoy the attention of that woman with you sitting across from me?” You refused to look at him and stared at the canopy above his bed, but nodded. “Really?” He murmured, a soft hint of incredulity creeping into his voice. The movement of him sliding against your core left you both gasping as the friction made you dizzy with need. 

“You’re the only one who does this to me.” He leans closer and draws your gaze to his, his lips inches from yours. “Only you.” 

He doesn’t kiss you. You haven’t earned that and Sylus won’t reward you for your bad behavior, so his lips skate along your jaw and down your throat, sending a shiver down your spine. Sylus will have you a begging, needy mess by the end of the night and you know it, suddenly a little nervous. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out quietly, but his derisive chuckle against your pulse told you it was too late for an apology–or too soon. His words confirmed it, his hot breath fanning across your skin. 

“Try being more sincere, and I might consider forgiving you sweetie.” The pet name drips condescension and you want to smack him, instantly regretting your words. You feel the punishing set of teeth against your throat with a sharp suddenness that leaves you gasping. Your back arches into him as your hands curl around the one that has you pinned, your nails digging into his skin. His mouth felt so good against your frantic pulse and you felt a little dizzy as he soothes the fresh imprint of his teeth with his lips. He peppers your throat in kisses and deliciously teasing love bites, taking his time until you’re writhing underneath him and softly pleading for him to touch you more.

He loves seeing you like this, flushed and wanting, eager for him to do whatever he wants to you. He’s ready to explode from all of the teasing from earlier and he grinds his hips roughly against yours, chuckling softly against your collarbone when you curse him between your gasps of pleasure. It’s been a long time since he's had you underneath him like this and Sylus isn’t known for being patient. But for you? He’d wait for a lifetime. In some lifetimes, he had.

However, tonight you need to be taught a lesson about what happens when you tease him too much and jeopardize his meeting. He almost lost valuable intel tonight, something important enough that if he had fumbled in obtaining it, a lot of people could’ve died; including you.  

His free hand slides between your bodies and he’s satisfied to find the front of your panties soaked. His fingers toy with the lacy edge and he has a thoughtful look on his face.

“Sylus, please.” You whine, brushing yourself against his knuckles shamelessly. It makes Sylus chuckle and he pushes them aside, his fingers gliding over your slick folds. One digit dips between them to glide over your clit and it’s agony. Before you can beg, Sylus slides two fingers deep inside of you and curls them over that sensitive spot he knows so well. He brings you to orgasm with a quickness that has your back bowed off the bed, his skillful fingers wringing the pleasure from your body. He does it again without letting you recover and you weakly ask him to wait, pushing against his hand that trapped your own. 

“Wait, please–” 

He withdraws his fingers and they glisten with proof of how much Sylus affected you, strands of your arousal clinging obscenely to them. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them into his mouth to taste you, his gaze heavy lidded with desire. He pulls them past his lips with a wet pop and his lips brush your ear, his breath fanning against your heated skin.

“Why? They went in so easily, kitten.” He purred into your ear. “Did you want it that much? I would’ve given it to you, you know.” He pushes a few strands of hair out sticking to your face and strokes soft fingertips along your temple and jaw. “All you had to do was ask, but you continue to insist on being stubborn.” He leans back and his lips twist into a sour expression. You know you’re in trouble and you want to take it back, but you also know conceding now will make the consequences worse. Sylus would prey on any weakness you showed now, and you could see it in the way he stared down at you. His smirk was dangerous and you whimpered.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

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