#but that's too long to make a good snippet

[arkham-prince]

Hello! “Simplistic” request but… could I ask for a Arkham knight x male reader, please? Jason tops and all. Maybe some mild gun play if that’s ok? If it isn’t, I apologize. Is it possible to ask for edging, too?

ʏᴇꜱ, ꜱɪʀ

ꜱᴜʙ-ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ: ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

 ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ: ʏᴇꜱ, ꜱɪʀ

00:00 ●────────── 45:21

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               ılıılıılıılıılıılı

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮  

♬ ᴘʀᴇ-ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴘʀᴇᴀᴍʙʟᴇ: Hi anon, thank you so much for the request! Everything you asked for is totally okay, no need to apologize. I hope you enjoy! ♡

 ♬ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴇɴɢᴛʜ: 2,721 words

 ♬ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: The Arkham Knight’s work is far from easy, and Jason is feeling more than a little pent up after a mission gone wrong. But irrespective of anything else going wrong, Jason knows he can always count on you to be good for him.  

 ♬ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: NSFW minors do not interact/read, male!reader, Arkham Knight Jason, established relationship, dom!Jason, handjob, anal sex, edging, gunplay, ‘sir’ used as a nickname, size kink implied (not stated by name), soft aftercare  

By the time the operation team got back to base, everyone already knew: the mission hadn’t gone well.

 No one knew the details yet, but there were already rumors flying — little snippets that had been picked up from who knows where that had spread around, and the air felt like it was abuzz with whispers, countless variations of the story getting around.

 There was one detail that everyone could agree on, though: The Arkham Knight himself had to personally go to help the team out of whatever mess they’d gotten themselves into. And he was not happy about it.

 When he trudged into the room, all the murmuring died, the room falling into pin-drop silence before you could even blink. It hardly felt like anyone was breathing with how quiet it was.

 The Knight looked directly at you. You sat up a little straighter in response.

 “Private meeting,” he said simply, his voice coming out harsh through his helmet’s modulator. “You know which meeting room. Now.” 

 There was a collective sigh of relief when he left the room, and a couple of people murmured quiet condolences and ‘good luck’s to you as you stood. There was no question that you and the Knight were close — you were practically his second in command, though you didn’t technically hold an official title — but it was clear that the rest of the militia still worried whether he would take his anger out on you.

 You just smiled, brushing off their concerns as you left. You knew that Jason would never do anything of the sort. And you also knew what this ‘private meeting’ was code for.

 After all, when Jason said that you knew which meeting room, he meant the bedroom. 

  So that’s where you found yourself before long, having already stripped yourself of your uniform, figuring that Jason shouldn’t have to worry about it with how much he’d already dealt with. He followed not long after, entering the room in full gear, not even taking off his helmet. His breathing was slightly raspy with distortion, and he hummed quietly in approval when he saw that you’d already undressed.

 “On your stomach, ass up, hands behind your back,” he commanded. It wasn’t mean, he wouldn’t be mean with you, but it was firm. You grinned back in response, unafraid but more than happy to comply even in the absence of fear.

 “Yes, sir,” you teased, gauging Jason’s response. Sometimes he liked the nickname, sometimes it was too much for him, though you never pried about why.

 Today seemed to be a case of the former, as he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. You happily took up the position he’d asked of you, laying down and rolling onto your stomach, shifting to brace yourself on your knees with your ass up. After making sure you were balanced, you rested your hands against your back. 

 You could hear shuffling, Jason moving around. Then the bed dipped beneath his weight, and Jason was draping himself over your back to tie your wrists together with a soft fabric.

 Jason was a large guy, further accentuated by his armor. That was never more apparent than in moments like these; even if you tried to escape, he could probably pin you back down with ease, and there was something thrilling in the knowledge that he could but also that he wouldn’t. It was something about the domination and trust in equal measure that made you feel a little dizzy, and you could already feel yourself growing hard, your cock stiffening between your legs. 

 Jason seemed to notice too, and he groaned quietly, the helmet’s modulator causing the sound to crackle in a way that had you shivering. 

 “Already so desperate, aren’t you?” He asked, clicking his tongue in faux disapproval. “You don’t think you’ll be getting off easy, do you?” 

 “No, sir,” you replied, already a little breathless.

 “Good.” 

 Jason retreated a little, and you nearly whined at the loss of contact, but you bit your lower lip to stop yourself. Instead you let out a soft breath through your nose and closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself settled despite the want already thrumming through your veins.

 You heard the distinct sound of Jason unholstering one of his guns, then the sound of him unloading it. Your brow furrowed, almost tempted to ask him what was going on, and then—

 Your breath hitched as you felt the cool metal, the muzzle of the gun tracing around your hole, which twitched in response to the stimulation. This time, you couldn’t bite back the soft whimper that escaped you, your cock aching at the implication.

 “So trusting,” Jason murmured, and even through the voice modulator you could hear something like awe in his voice. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

 “Yes, sir,” you responded, and you found yourself deliriously wishing that he’d fuck you with the pistol in his hand. You wondered which one he was using, whether it was the one that had your first initial engraved into the handle, and the thought almost made you start to shake with desperation. 

 “Good boy,” Jason rasped, laughing a little when you whined in response to him dragging the gun away from your hole. The cool metal dragged up the length of your spine instead, the temperature a shock against your flushed skin, and the muzzle ended up pressed against the base of your neck in a way that caused you to keen helplessly. “You’re always so obedient for me, never letting me down.” 

  You felt as though there was more to Jason’s words, but those thoughts quickly fled your brain the moment Jason reached underneath you to wrap a hand around your cock, stroking up its length slowly. The callouses of his hand (when had he taken off his gloves? You couldn’t remember, couldn’t think of much at all) felt heavenly, his thumb stroking up along one of the veins just right and causing you to moan into the pillow underneath you.

 “Head to the side, let me hear you,” Jason ordered, tapping the back of your neck with the gun for emphasis. You complied mindlessly, pressing your cheek into the pillow with a breathless noise, chasing after his praise with the desperate obedience he craved. 

 And oh, he certainly did praise you. He showered you with quiet praises that made your head spin — ‘that’s it, that’s what I want to hear’ and ‘good boy, so responsive’ — interspersed with little teases that made your cock throbbing in his firm grasp. There was something about the way he wielded his authority over you that had you losing your mind, always gentle but with just enough of an edge to remind you that he was in charge, and god you’d never have it any other way. 

 All the while, he kept stroking your cock with a slowness that had you whining and gasping, wanting to push into his touch for more but knowing better. He’d rest the gun’s muzzle against the base of your skull for a bit, then drag it back down along your spine to circle your hole once more, never pushing it in like you wished he would. Up and down, up and down, teasing you until the heat slowly built to a breaking point and—

 Right as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm, Jason abruptly stopped, his hand closing around the base of your cock and squeezing gently to keep the building pressure right there. The whine you let out was borderline petulant and more than a little needy, your head spinning because you were so close.

 “Jay—” you gasped before catching yourself. “Sir, please—”

 “Not yet,” Jason interrupted, causing you to whine again. He didn’t relent, holding your throbbing cock firmly until the cresting pleasure started to abate to a buzz beneath your skin, still there but not quite. Only then did he release his grip, adding: “You can be patient, can’t you?”

 Jason slipped his hand into one of yours, a silent question. You squeezed back, indicating that you were okay to keep going.

 “Yes, sir,” you responded, and he squeezed your hand back. 

 “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

 It felt like you fell into a daze after that. Jason would work you back up to the edge again with those slow, firm strokes before stopping you just before you hit the peak, then wait until you’d calmed down before starting the process all over again. It was a haze of murmured words and firm strokes of his hand and the cool metal of his gun pressing up against you, and you felt as though your brain was melting away into nothing by the end, your whole body set alight with a feverishly building need and your cock aching to the point that it almost hurt. It was torturous, but oh, it was so good. 

 You didn’t know how many times it had been before you felt as though you were reaching your limit. The heady mix of pain-pleasure still wasn’t bad, but you knew it would reach that point soon, and goddamnit you were aching for Jason to just fuck you already.

 “Jason,” you whimpered, and the fact that you dropped the nickname seemed to get his attention. He stopped in his ministrations, and you nearly sobbed. “Please, I can’t— I need—”

 “Alright,” he cut you off, because he knew what you were asking for. He let out a sharp breath before adding: “You have done very well for me. I guess that means a reward is in order.”

 “Please,” you responded, and he shifted a little to resituate himself. You heard the soft click of a bottle cap, and a few moments later, his finger was pressing against your hole, cold with lube. It was a welcome reprieve from the warmth that felt permanently seared into your skin, reducing your mind to mush.

 Jason was quick and efficient with his prep, opening you up enough to ensure that he didn’t hurt you while also wasting no more time than he had to. Then there was the sharp sound of his zipper being opened, and you whined needily as his cock pressed up against you, already hard. 

 Jason pressed himself into you, slow and steady, and the fullness nearly had your legs buckling. It felt like he was everywhere all at once, and then he was draping himself over your back again and his cock was nudging up against your prostate, a broken noise tearing itself from your throat as stars burst across your vision. Jason groaned, the sound of it making you feel all dizzy because finally.

 You felt Jason’s hand cupping your face, and you could do nothing but allow him to pull your head up and out of the pillows, gasping for breath as tears of pleasure streamed down your cheeks. Something was pressing up against your lips, cool and firm, and it took you a moment before recognizing it as the gun he’d been using earlier.

 “Open,” Jason said firmly, and you moaned breathlessly. Your lips parted easily, and the gun sliding into your mouth punched another noise out of you, your eyes nearly rolling back as you sealed your lips around it the same way you would if Jason had offered you his cock to suck on. 

 Jason made good on his promise of a reward, as the moment you had adjusted yourself, he began to fuck you nice and deep. Each thrust resulted in his cock pushing up against your prostate, causing you to moan and drool around the gun in your mouth. Jason was murmuring something to you, but all his words went in one ear and out the other, as your mind was too fucked dumb to process any of it.

 Your climax approached rapidly, the edging from before having taken its toll. And this time, Jason didn’t stop you, instead speeding up his efforts.

 All you could process was the rumble of his voice right by your ear — “that’s it, let go for me” — and then you were cumming with a muffled scream of pleasure. 

 Your vision damn near whited out from the intensity of it, your whole body shaking as you made a mess over the sheets and your trembling legs. It only took a moment for Jason to follow, and the feeling of warmth spilling into you and filling you up only intensified the feeling of your release.

 By the time your orgasm subsided, you were shivering with the receding pleasure, and the only reason you hadn’t completely collapsed onto the bed was thanks to Jason holding your hips up to keep you steady. The gun had slipped from your lax lips, having slid down the pillow and onto the sheets beside you. Jason stayed inside of you for a moment longer, letting you regain your bearings, before slowly pulling out. You whined at the loss, and he let out a sound in response that you thought was meant to be a laugh, but which was a little bit too breathless for it. Your hole was loose from the intense fucking Jason had given you, his cum slowly beginning to trickle out. 

 Normally, Jason would’ve traced his thumb around the puffy rim just to hear you whine, but he seemed to take mercy due to how much he’d edged you already. Instead, he undid the bindings around your wrists and helped you roll onto your side away from the mess on the sheets, then moved so he could kneel beside the bed to face you. He unlatched his helmet with ease, pulling it off to reveal those blue eyes that you so adored, his cheeks flushed in the aftermath of it all and his brow furrowed with tender concern. 

 “You alright?” He asked, and all you could do was hum tiredly. You were more than alright, you were dazed and well-fucked and oh so happy, but you forced your tired lips to form the words for a response in order to assuage his worry.

 “Yeah,” you rasped out, your voice a little broken after how much you’d been moaning. Thank god the room was soundproof. But you were less worried about yourself than about Jason, and so you asked: “You?”

 Jason chuckled softly, shaking his head a little bit and raising a hand up to gently rub up and down your arm. There was a smile curling at the edges of his lips, gentle and almost a bit shy, and you found yourself wondering how anyone could be scared of someone so kind. 

 “Yeah, I’m okay. Better now,” he admitted; a step up from the start of your relationship, when he wouldn’t have opened up until you pried his feelings out of him. Then he added: “You did well, baby. I’m proud of you.”

 You preened at the praise, and Jason’s smile grew a little, only to be smothered as he pressed his lips to yours in a tender but loving kiss. Then he was pulling away from you, standing up to quickly shed his armor before he was scooping you up into his arms. 

 “Let’s clean up,” he said, carrying you over to the connecting bathroom. You wordlessly murmured your approval, your head resting against his strong chest as your eyes began to drift closed. He’d probably need to hold you up in the shower, but that was alright. You knew that Jason would take care of you. He always did. 

 “My knight in shining armor,” you mumbled, and Jason huffed out a laugh at the play on his usual title. It brought a sleepy smile to your lips; as long as Jason was happy, that was all you could ask for. “I love you.”

 “Love you too, sweetheart.”

 (Later on, after you both showered and Jason cleaned up the bed and you settled in for the night, you’d found yourself reaching out with a sleep-heavy arm to grab at the gun on the bedside table. The one that Jason had been using earlier.)

 (Your thumb traced over the familiar lines of your first initial on the handle. You smiled, leaving the gun be, and snuggled back into the arms of your boyfriend.)

 (Overall, this certainly wasn’t a bad ending for a mission gone wrong.)

♬ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʀʏ

 My first ever request!! Anon, thank you so much for requesting this; ‘simplistic’ request doesn't do it justice it was an amazing concept and so much fun to write. AK!Jason holds a special place in my heart.. (and he’s very hot which is a very welcome bonus). Also I hope that the gunplay was to your liking, I did my best to keep it mild per your request! 

 ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ? ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋʟɪꜱᴛ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ♡

 ʀᴇqᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴏᴘᴇɴ

 © ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ-ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ | ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴᴛ

[kissandtellus]

Warning: Bite Risk, Ch. 8

Synopsis: MC wakes up in a sterile room, fear and flight warring a battle. But secrets come to light, and maybe those she trusted with everything in her heart, should have been tossed to the curb a long time ago.

Warnings: Cussing, experiments, mentions of needles.

Tag List: @mcdepressed290 , @seventeen-x , @rorel1a , @skylarkse , @blorbohunter , @teacupwaifu , @lewdcifer778, @eiradragonsong @april-likes-smut , @trishiepo0 , @moonlight-inthe-sea, @obeythebutler, @julia-loves-cupcakes, @zarakem, @emowitchwithatwist

The room is white, too white. The sort of white that makes your sinus’ burn and your body tense. She tries to peel her eyes open, a bright light is shining down upon her. She groans, trying to move her arm to shield her eyes, but she physically can’t.

She’s restrained. Her wrist pull weakly at the leather straps.

There are people around her. She can hear people talking, talking about her.

But she's only able to hear their snippets of conversation, snippets that are filled with disgust.

She's in an operating room, surrounded by scientists and medics in white coats.

An older man in a white coat is standing beside her, and he's talking to an assistant. She can barely make out what they're saying, but she can hear enough to fill her veins with fear.

She jerks her head back and forth, straining her entire body against the leather in hopes of some miracle that they will snap.

“What-where the fuck am I?” She hisses. Her head is still reeling and her mind is foggy. “Let me go-!”

The man in the white coat looks over to her, and his eyes are cold. "Well, there's our little Bird." He says, and he looks to another man.

The older man turns back to her, and his eyes narrow. "And you..." He sniffs at the air, and a small smile crosses his face. "You reek of the Hybrid." He says, and a sly smirk fills his face. "I'm sure he's already on his way."

Caleb.

Her Sweet Caleb.

She clenched her teeth, fighting harder. “He’ll tear you apart. I think it’s in your best interest to free me.”

The man in the white coat just laughs, and he shakes his head. "Oh, trust me. He's never gotten close. And besides..." he leans in closer to her now, and he snickers as he whispers. "We know what to do if we see him coming."

He snaps his fingers, and a group of men pull out heavy rifles from behind them. They cock them and ready their weapons now, and it's clear that if Caleb comes, they have no mercy planned for him.

She pulls harder at the restraints as the mysterious figure steps closer to a tray lined with medical tools. Her eyes catch a glimpse of the long scar over his eye and lip. A scar she had seen one too many times in Caleb’s files. “F-fuck, you’re Dr. Cayton, aren’t you? The one who fucked with Caleb’s brain…you sick Fuck!”

Cayton lets out a low laugh, and he nods. "Well, it's good to see that someone remembers me." He sneers, "It's been years, but I've always had a fondness for Caleb, even if he doesn't think so. "

He leans in closer to her now, his gaze narrow. "In fact, I'm almost glad you got yourself stuck here with me. Tell me, what is your fascination with my Dear Hybrid?”

Her lips are drawn in a tight line, eyes darting from the doctor down to the syringe he specifically plucked from the tray.

Dr. Cayton chuckled, flicking the tub of the syringe to draw the bubbles out.

"So tell me, sweet little Bird. What exactly do you see in him? What makes you so loyal to him?" He asks, and his gaze is cold.

His voice sends a chill down her spine, but she tries to hide her fear. "I don't have to answer your bullshit questions," she snarls, and she tries to pull herself free once more.

Dr. Cayton clicks his tongue and looks down at the woman. “Do you know we used live lures to train our canine Hybrids in the Farspace Fleet? We didn’t use small prey-“ his lips turn up in a sinister grin.

Cayton's grin widens, and he leans in close to her. His voice is low, and his tone sends a chill down her spine.

"I have a hunch that Caleb thinks of you as a plaything." He says, and his voice fills with a hint of malice. "He's a dog, after all. He won't mind having a little fun with his toy."

She fights wildly as he pulls the cap off the syringe. “Why…? Just tell me why you experimented on Caleb and the other Canines? The Farspace Fleet had plenty of willing soldiers and you turned them into monsters!” The words leave her mouth as a strangled sob

Cayton stares at her in surprise, and his face hardens into a cold glare.

"It's called science, little Bird." He says, and his tone is filled with disgust. "But you wouldn't understand. You're too weak to understand. "

He steps forward, and he stands over her. He leans in close now, his eyes full of disgust.

"I can see why Caleb likes you. You remind him of the past." He sneers, and his voice gets colder.

Dr. Cayton sits in the small rolling stool next to her bed, rolling closer to push her hair away from her neck. “You know who does understand Science? That lovely Dr. Zayne. Oh you messed up letting him slip through your fingers.”

Her eyes widen as she hears him mention Zayne, and her voice drops the rebellious tone for a second. "H-how do you know about him?"

Cayton stares at her, and he lets out a little laugh. "Oh, you don't know?" He asks, and he leans in closer. "I'm surprised. I used Dr. Zayne’s studies to create my serum. Well, the first one of course. I modified the next batch all on my own.”

Her breath hitches and her head jerks away, eyes filled with anguish and terror. “No-no he wouldn’t do that! Stop fuckin’ lying!”

Cayton stares at her, and his face twists into a sneer. "I'm no liar. He knew about my little experiment. How else would I be able to recreate his masterpiece? Hm?”

He leans in closer now, and he snickers. "I've done more to make them as good as they are now than any other person. It was my ideas that helped make those Hybrids so strong, faster than lightning , and it was my ideas that made them even better!”

Dr. Cayton cackles and the pure darkness in his eyes makes her blood run cold. Zayne…how? They were set to build a life together. He cared for Hybrids, was a Vet! Not a goddamn evil mastermind.

But those late nights-

Those secret meetings in the darkness of night-

No.

It couldn’t be tr-

The syringe presses into the vein in her neck and she wails, the sound cutting through the sterile operating room.

Cayton sighs as if bored by the entire situation. He pulls the string from her neck, watching her eyes roll back and eyelids close.

"Let's see how good her dog can smell now that her blood is tainted." He sneers, and his eyes narrow as he looks down at her.

"Let's see how loyal he is when she becomes everything he hates.”

~

Miles away over the ridgeline, two figures hunched over the fire to desperately keep themselves warm. Teeth chattered and tempers rose to the surface like drawing out poison.

Zayne’s fingers tightened around the gun as he wiped the barrel, his icy gaze flicking up to Caleb. The hybrid’s ears were pinned back, tension coiling through every muscle like a spring about to snap.

“You gonna pace a hole in the ground or help me plan?” Zayne muttered, voice low and edged with barely restrained fury. “Because I don’t care how many scars they carved into you—if they so much as look at her wrong—”

Caleb bared his teeth in a silent snarl, claws flexing. “Don’t talk like I don’t want her back more than you do.” His violet eyes gleamed under the moonlight—half-feral, half-terrified. He knew what those labs did to people who screamed too loud.

Zayne shoved himself upright and grabbed Caleb by the scruff of his tactical vest, slamming him against a tree with enough force to make leaves shake loose above them. “Then focus.” His voice was venom wrapped in velvet—cold and lethal. “You know their routines better than anyone alive."

For once, Caleb didn't fight him off—just exhaled sharp through his teeth.

Claws curled at his sides. “I know,” He growled, eyes blazing with anger, “But we do this my way—stealth and sabotage. I’m not going in all guns blazing, you got it?”

Zayne leaned back, the edge coming off his grip slightly, though his eyes remained as cold as winter's first frost. “If your way gets her hurt—“ he didn’t finish, didn’t have to. The unspoken threat hung between them like the smell of rain before a storm.

Zayne uncurled the crumpled and rough map he found of the facility. Zayne slid a blueprint across the ground, “These service tunnels—“ he said, tracing his fingers over the lines that snaked beneath the facility's foundations, “-if we can get inside here, it'll get us straight into the main labs where they'd be holding her."

Caleb's eyes snapped up from the blueprint, that familiar rage igniting within him at the very thought of what they were doing to her now—the helplessness, the pain.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, keeping his focus razor-sharp. "I know where the cells are.” His voice was surprisingly calm—though that wildness burned in his eyes still. "They're on Level Three, Sector B if the layout is the same. Once we're inside, it'll be my show."

The two moved like shadows, avoiding the guards that was no doubt shoot first and ask questions later.

Zayne and Caleb slipped through the service tunnels--each footstep as whisper-light as a shadow. The air was heavy with the scent of antiseptic, and the hum of fluorescent lights felt like static over their nerves.

Reaching the grate leading to Level Three, Caleb slipped his claws into the metal, bending it just enough for them to squeeze through. The room they entered was stark and sterile--the kind of sterility that had his hackles raising all over.

“The cell’s this way,” Caleb murmured, nodding towards the end of the corridor. His chest ached from being here again, he fought down the panic.

Not for him. For her.

Always for her.

They moved swiftly down the hall, keeping their backs against the wall. At the end of the corridor, they found her cell.

She lay on a metal slab, unconscious. Her breathing was steady, a reassuring rise and fall of her chest that made Zayne's own breath catch in relief.

But his blood ran cold at the sight of tubes snaking from her body, feeding into machines that whispered and hummed along the wall.

She was convulsing, Dr. Cayton ignored her obvious distress from the serum he injected in her as he finished dressing in his surgical scrubs. Zayne’s eyes narrowed at the man, hands clenched at his sides. Caleb couldn’t ignore the way the Doc’s brow twitched and her completely rigid he was.

They couldn’t afford a blow up right now.

Zayne's heart raced, fury coursing through every vein at the sight. His mouth flattened into a thin line, and his jaw clenched so hard it made his teeth ache.

Caleb's claws flexed, eyes burning with a rage that felt too hot and too cold all at once. He was already moving, claws finding the edge of the cell door and bending the bars out--not enough to break them but enough to grant access.

He was quiet like a shadow in a dream as he slipped into the room, crouching by her side quickly.

The moment Caleb touched her arm—her skin burning hot from the serum’s reaction—her eyes snapped open.

For a second, she didn’t recognize him, pupils blown wide with terror before focus returned in a dizzying rush. She struggled to talk around the tube, panic settling in her belly at her predicament.

Caleb hushed her quietly with a finger to his lips.

Don’t speak.

We’re here.

Behind them, Dr. Cayton froze mid-step near the observation window—then his lips curled into something like delight at seeing his former experiment here voluntarily. The guards in the room raised their rifles, waiting for a single command.

Caleb could almost make out their eyes behind fabric masks. The same eyes that watched him be torn apart to be remolded.

“Ahhh!” He adjusted his glasses slowly, clicking off a small device on his wrist that sent a jolt of electricity through Odette's restraints before they released her all at once. “Welcome home Caleb.”

That voice, that sickening grin.

Caleb remembered that same shit-eating grin when he was a young man writhing in agony on cold floors just to be spit upon.

Caleb tried to calm his anger. Images of him being experimented on, on how his brothers in arms died from Cayton’s inhumane treatments.

He flashed his fangs, chest rising and falling rapidly. Zayne disconnected the tubes attached to the woman, lifting her up from the table, whispering in her ear as he tried to move her away from the chaos. “What did you do to her?!” Caleb snapped at his creator.

Cayton's smile was slow, deliberate—like a predator savoring the struggle of trapped prey. “Nothing she didn't need," he mused, tapping a syringe against his palm. “Just refining what we started with you, Caleb. Imagine if your little human pet had claws like yours." His gaze flicked to Zayne carrying her away and back to Caleb’s trembling form. “Or would you rather I put her down instead?"

Caleb’s breath hitched—his entire body locked in place between fury and something darker: fear. Pure, undiluted terror for her.

Zayne tightened his grip on her, already backing toward the door—until he saw Cayton press his thumb to a detonator in his pocket.

And suddenly? It wasn’t just about escape anymore.

They had fallen right into his trap.

<-Previous Chapter

[shedelulululu]

your affair snippet was delicious, to say the least. i think over time mel would come to expect more and realize he isn't interested in going that way - he's happy being with abby enough that he won't divorce her, but also happy with mel. would she end things? would that make him panic and realize he doesn't want to do life without mel?

would love for you to continue this

Snippet referred to here

Okay so funny you should ask because I actually did write what you could consider a continuation a little bit ago you can find it here

Tldr yes Mel is like ?? Are you going to leave her or what are we doing here ?? And then she's like divorce her and I'll stay, and if you don't want to divorce her fine but I'm done then.

Now I do leave that one on an ambiguous and more sad ending (people have asked for a part two lmao)

In my mind, the panic isn't immediate. Life feels like sandpaper on Frank's skin when he and Mel are no longer intimate, no longer really friends even, but he can bear it. She's still in his world, his still get's to see her and blessedly she really doesn't have time to date at this point in her residency.

But then she applies to a fellowship and it's not at PTMC, it's not even in Pittsburgh. She asks Robby for a recommendation letter, he doesn't feel like doing it so he passes it off to new attending Frank Langdon; he's worked with Mel more and more closely so he can do the grunt work and do it better.

He corners her in the parking garage after shift, "So you're just going to fuck off to California?"

"UCLA has an excellent program and for Becca -- actually, no, you don't get a say in my life."

"You're really just going to leave everything here behind?"

Mel is frustrated, she wants to pull at her hair, her hands scrubbing down her face in frustration, "Leave what behind exactly? A standard residency program and some casual friends who aren't guaranteed to stay here either? Pittsburgh isn't exactly the kind of city you fall in love with."

He stares at her like she's already a ghost "So it's been that easy for you?" The implications not lost on her.

"Easy for me?" She laughs, "No Frank, it hasn't been easy for me, I had all these plans, I was ready to set things into motion, and there was just one piece I needed to secure to know it would work, that it would be a good life here for me. It fell through at the last minute," she shrugs trying not to cry as she thinks of the 3 and 4 bedroom rentals she had bookmarked, the half finished fellowship applications that were local, the attending applications, working with the day centre to find a group home for Becca since she wanted more independence, the pinterest board she deleted -- she never should've started it but you scroll and scroll and there's a dress, a ring, a decor scheme and you just want to save it, in case -- "So no, it hasn't been easy to start all over."

"Would you stay? If that one thing --"

"Don't." She wants to say no, because why did it take so long, why was this the final reason, why didn't she matter more before, is it even genuine if it's an ultimatum? Will he resent her another day for it?

"I'm being serious" his voice cracks. He moves closer to her, slipping his skin warm ring into her hand and closing her fist. A promise of sorts.

She doesn't realize she's sobbing, too focused on the metal burning a hole in her palm. He pulls her into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head and gently cooing to calm her down. "Yes, and I'd punish you for making me wait, for putting me through all of this just to get here. And then you'd hate me and it'd be all for nothing. But I'd stay anyways."

"Then punish me."

In less than 48 hours she's bcc'd on an email with his lawyer, subject: Motion to File.

[regency-monster-love]

STOOOOP MR DANDELION SOUNDS SO CUTE!!!!

Now, this is an idea for the future.....but definitely monster physician makes love to his mate in a field of dandelions. And he takes his sweet time too, a good round of lovemaking, then just rolling around among the dandelions and joking around, then a few more rounds of love and fooling around

Just...ok, bye, ill go somewhere else to think about having that charming monster claim me like there is no tomorrow

(This is in response to this snippet)

Oh you are so right! Making love in a field of dandelions sounds so joyful, doesn't it? Like after all the angst, yearning, and uncertainty, they're finally together and everything is wonderful and they're as bright and happy as a summer day full of dandelions! I love when a couple is smiling and laughing during sex, and they deserve that.

Let's take a brief break from the angst to enjoy a flash forward because I'm sick today and need something to cheer me up.

🌼 flash forward 🌼

You're lying side by side in a summer field, facing each other, talking while Monster Physician plays with your hair. The air is thick with the chirping of katydids and the grass dotted all over by bright yellow dandelions. You pick one and stick it behind his ear. "How pretty you look, Mr. Dandelion."

"Mister Dandelion? I beg your pardon, I waited a very long time to earn the right for us to drop all the formality of address, mate," he teases.

"Just Dandelion then," you giggle.

"That's better," he says, and kisses the sweet pet name from your lips. He moves his mouth to the crook of your neck, tickling you and making you laugh, and it makes him laugh too as he rolls on top of you.

Soon he's rocking into you, soft and sweet, lazy rolls of his hips in the summer heat, admiring how you look under him all nestled into the fresh grass surrounded by dandelions and tiny white daisies. He says it out loud too, happy that he doesn't have to hold back his feelings from you anymore. Everything is in the open between you now, no more restraint and secret longing. You're both free.

Sweet little praises fall from your lips as well, making him smile and laugh and kiss you silly. He tickles you again, and pulls you on top of him, and drinks you up from between your thighs, and you lose track of how many times you come because you're so joyful you're floating, playing with your mate all that sunny summer afternoon.

🌼☀️🌼☀️🌼☀️

Perhaps I'll write a longer version of this one day, once all of their pining is over, but this was a sweet little snack to indulge in for now.

All Monster Physician snippets here

Taglist: @dreamerl0v3, @apuddleonthelivingroomfloor, @missingmnemosyne, @argentinemango, @moonyasnow (comment if you want to be added or removed)

[olivediamonds-writing]

i saw your requests were open and I was hoping you could make something of this thought I've had. I love the ghost bride event but would love to see how the overblot boys would react to seeing a female Yuu being chosen by a ghost groom because she's the only girl on campus.

Oh man that's a really good idea! Tbh I've been staring at this request for days now between other writing because I've got so many ideas I don't think I can make a short snippet for each guy!

So, I'm gonna use your ask as a prologue and I'll add each guy in their own separate post and list them at the bottom of this one as I complete them!

Hope you'll enjoy what I come up with!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I Object!: Prologue

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mrah! I hate this! Why do we have to stay up and study when we could be sleeping?!"

"Because I'm not in the mood to fail Trien's history test?"

Grim huffed and looked back down at Yuu's notes as she let out a yawn and stretched, checking the clock on the mantle to see it was almost 8pm.

"I guess studying would be pointless if we're too exhausted to take the test."

Before she could tell Grim he could go to bed, a voice right behind her spoke up at the same moment she felt an unnaturally cold hand on her shoulder.

"At last, I've found you, my beloved."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"HELP!" Grim screeched as he tore through the campus. His cries echoed through the empty halls as he reached Crowley's office and burst inside. He almost cried in relief when he saw not only was Crowley in his office but so was most of the housewardens.

"Oh my," Crowley said as he eyed Grim. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Yuu... ghost... trouble!" Grim tried to explain between breaths but it only seemed to confuse the group further.

"Ghosts? Have you forgotten your dorm is filled with ghosts? That hardly seems to be something to be upset about." Crowley gestured for Grim to shoo while Riddle frowned.

"Didn't he also mention Yuu? Are any of the ghosts hostile to humans Headmage?"

"Absolutely not!" Crowley sounded appalled at the question as he stood up from his seat. "Ramshackle has been home to various spirits over the years but I'd never allow one to reside on campus that could hurt any of my students!"

"But he took Yuu!" Grim cried, climbing onto the desk and gesturing wildly. "He suddenly appeared and grabbed Yuu and called her his beloved!"

"That sounds like it might relate to our sudden ghost problems," Vil spoke up with a frown. "There's been a surge of unknown ghosts that have taken over the cafeteria and classrooms that have been talking about preparing for a wedding."

"Oh, is that what this is about? That just sounds like the Ghost Prince." Crowley sat back down and leaned back in his chair. "He comes around every few years and prepares for a wedding that will never happen. Just let the ghosts continue with the preparations and when a bride doesn't walk down the aisle by midnight, he'll go away."

"Headmage," Jamil said as he crossed his arms. "Is there a reason why the Ghost Prince always comes back?"

"Well, according to the legends, he was killed long ago on the night of his wedding while waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. Because of this, his spirit returns to wait for his bride to finally meet him at the altar. Of course since this is a boys school, he'll never find a bride so there's nothing to worry about."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the office until Crowley suddenly shot out of his chair with a cry.

"YUU HAS BEEN TAKEN BY THE GHOST PRINCE?!"

"What's the big deal?" Leona asked, still grumpy from being woken up from the recent commotion. "Can't the herbivore just walk down the aisle and the ghost will leave?"

"I'm afraid not," Crowley replied, his tone suddenly serious. "The prince has searched for his bride for hundreds of years. If Yuu walks down that aisle, her soul will be taken and she'll become his eternal bride."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Riddle

[awardenandacrow]

SNIPPET 75

I am irrationally delighted to type that this snippet falls chronologically ✨directly after✨ snippet 57 (Rook Storytime prompt 5)

[the team takes care of Naimy after she passes out from the symptoms of her flu]

CW/TW: discussion of illness, Spite makes a suggestive comment but he doesn’t mean what Lucanis THINKS he means 😤

——————————————————————————

NOT! GOOD!

Lucanis saw the tell-tale sway of unconsciousness come over Rook just in time. In one fluid movement, he fell to one knee to break her fall, catching her easily in his arms. Her head fell back, her limbs limp. For the first time since he’d met her, her whole body radiated heat.

Lace had cried out when she toppled, but now she leapt into action.

“Can you carry her to the infirmary? I’ll have Davrin tell Bellara not to bother with the pancakes and meet you there.”

Without waiting for an answer — it seemed she knew he would certainly not refuse — she hastened out of the room. Once she was gone, Lucanis carefully climbed back to his feet. He cradled Rook close, guilt gnawing at his consciousness.

How could he have just… forgotten?

WHAT IS. WRONG? Spite wanted to know, staring down at Rook’s face. He wore an expression Lucanis had seen before, and now recognized as Spite trying to remember something… from when he’d been Determination.

“Was Rook ever sick as a child?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, heading for the door.

*SICK.*

Spite repeated the word as though it were familiar to him, but its meaning was still beyond his grasp. Lucanis could remember other such interactions with the demon. Now that he knew from whence they stemmed, he also felt a bit guilty for not having been more understanding with the demon in those moments.

He, too, knew what it was to wake up one day completely different than who you had been when you went to sleep. To remember things that felt like they couldn’t possibly be memories — they were too long ago, too vague, or too happy, or simply too far-fetched to be actual events that had occurred. That he and Spite were mirrors of one another was turning out to have far more facets than he had initially realized.

Lucanis kicked open the infirmary door and carefully turned himself to carry Rook through the doorway. Her breathing was labored, her sinus passages clearly still obstructed. Another pang of guilt.

There had been a lot on his plate. But even after the dust had settled…

SHE DIDN’T WANT. YOU. TO *WORRY,* Spite ground out, a puzzled look on his face. Lucanis frowned. That *did* sound like Rook. Always putting on a brave face. Putting everyone else before herself.

It was probably what landed her in this position in the first place.

Lucanis sighed, laying her gently on the cot directly across from the doorway. He pulled the satiny night wrap she wore closed — they may want to bring her fever down, and everyone but Davrin had already seen her half-dressed, he supposed, but it was compulsory, and he certainly wasn’t going to *un*dress her.

COULD! Spite snickered.

“I really must teach you about *consent,*” Lucanis snapped, leaving Rook to cross to the cabinet and grab a few extra pillows. He returned to her side, sliding one arm under her shoulders to lift her enough to prop her up with them. She hadn’t undone her braids the night before — perhaps she had not had the strength to? — and there was dried blood in her hair. Lucanis carefully pulled the braids away from her neck, in hopes her hair would not overheat her more. Her skin was damp, clammy with a cold sweat. She looked so pale… had she looked this ill last night? Had he really been so absorbed in his own problems that he’d overlooked this?

Absentmindedly, Lucanis swept a few stray hairs off of Rook’s forehead.

“*Mierda,* Rook,” he sighed again. “If only you would ask for help… we would all be glad to give it.”

Even as he uttered the words, he thought them wholly unfair. She shouldn’t have to ask. They should have noticed.

*He* should have noticed.

ROOK. *WAS.* SICK, Spite said suddenly from where he sat on the cot next to Rook’s. MOTHER ALWAYS. CASTING SPELLS.

Spite’s demeanor shifted nearly instantaneously, and he grew agitated. ROOK. SICK? NO. MOTHER. MOTHER IS SICK. ROOK IS SICK. BECAUSE. MOTHER.

Lucanis frowned as Spite leapt to his feet and began to pace, continuing to mutter at himself. What had Rook told him about her mother?

*She got sick… Within eight months, she was gone.*

MOTHER. HURTS, Spite had stopped pacing and now stood stalk-still with his back to Lucanis. Before he could press the demon about what he meant, the others bustled into the infirmary.

“…I didn’t *tell you,*” Davrin was saying, his tone defensive, “because she’s a *Grey Warden.* It didn’t occur to me she’d be *fragile.*”

Bellara snorted at him. “Fragile like a bomb, maybe.”

She carried a new bundle of ice, one that smelled fragrantly of elfroot and chamomile. She crossed the infirmary as she spoke, laying the herb-filled compress carefully across Rook’s forehead. In spite of himself, Lucanis let out a snort of laughter at her comment. Like a bomb, indeed.

“I heard she once yelled at a dragon,” he smirked, “just because she thought it was going to eat someone.”

“I was there for that!” Bellara affirmed. Her expression clouded. “Guy deserved it though. But Rook… she saved him *and* showed him mercy.”

Lucanis had not heard this part of the story before, but somehow he liked it even more with the new information.

“She apparently punched out an entire bar of Venatori to find out where Neve was when we arrived in Minrathos,” Harding added, packing two more bundles of herb-ice on either side of Rook. “I was *not* there for that, but when she told me, I could picture *exactly* how it went down.”

“Do you remember, in the Drowned District, when we found Jacobus?” Lucanis asked Lace across the cot. He returned to the cabinet for a light blanket, and the three of them tucked it snuggly around their unconscious friend. “The way she jumped from the rafters onto that Antaam’s back — like a proper Crow.”

Lace laughed, switching places with Bellara to begin to undo one of Rook’s braids. “I thought that lightning bolt was going to set the whole place on fire.”

Bellara swept around the cot, and Lucanis stepped back to allow her to begin unraveling Rook’s other braid.

WHY DIDN’T. *YOU.* DO THAT? Spite demanded.

“The way she charged the Gloom Howler, even in this state, was certainly a sight to see,” Davrin mused, drawing close to the foot of the cot. “She came closer to hitting it than I ever have.”

Bellara gave him a proud smirk.

“Rook is amazing,” she told their new companion. “She’s always taking care of all of us. So now, it’s our turn!”

[savrenim]

Axioms of Set Theory? That's a really cool name for a wip I have to say

AXIOMS OF SET THEORY IS ONE I'M EXTREMELY EXCITED FOR AND IS DEFINITELY HAPPENING

it's a jjk fic, a "okay but what if you make Gojo actually actually a mathematician", it's a bunch of disconnected slowly-getting-more-connected scenes in a one-shot but under headings in a 5+1 style of fic except. you know. the 8 Axioms of [ZF] Set Theory+ 1 Axiom of Choice and, like, funnily enough has ended up with extreme everything everywhere all at once vibes?

major spoilers for jjk s2 below the cut for snippet

The Prison Realm, in its own way, is sort of like death. A long time ago, when he was on the brink of death, he thought he understood cursed energy in its entirety. Cursed energy was negative energy. The way that you get a positive from a negative was multiplying it by another negative. It was so simple, so elegant; he finally understood reverse cursed techniques. He should have understood that that was middle-school math. He stares out into the blankness, the infinite dimensional space between dimensions. And then he gives it a basis.

[criminalmaya]

Can't believe i had to bear the sight of fucking 🗿 and no eddie diaz tonight. The fuck is wrong with you tim? You mean to tell me an ex amy medic who has seen it all in combat wasn't supposed to be with his team in the biggest disaster the 118 has had to face, the one where his medic knowledge could have help a lot? the one where their captain, bobby nash, who is his family too, dies???? Does that sound right for anyone? Cause it doesn't for me.

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[honeyvenommusic]

.

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact Marked by the Sea

Summary: In which Neuvillette is your soft husband, a loving one with some dragon tendencies. 

or, here are snippets of a domestic dragon husband. 

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN! Reader! 

Note: Going through my drafts and yes, I had a Genshin phase

Warning: Lots of fluff >.< because we love our hydro dragon sovereign. 

★・・・・・・★

“You’re staring again,” you murmur sleepily.

Every morning, you wake up to long white messy hair on your face and sometimes, even purrs coming from your beloved husband. 

Neuvillette tightens his arms around your waist. 

“I’m simply…appreciating.”

“You’re very clingy for someone who acts like the world’s most composed man in public,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He presses his face into your neck. 

“You’re the only place I feel at peace.”

Your fingers comb gently through his hair.

A soft whine escapes him. 

“Stay with me a little longer.”

“Love, you have to go now.” You managed to sit up and let out a small yawn. You eyed the clock, and realized that it’s time to get ready for the day. 

“Must we get up?”

Neuvillette’s voice was muffled against your hip, arms still around your waist.

You laughed, gently tugging him upright. 

“You’re the Chief Justice. Pretty sure pajamas aren’t court-appropriate.”

You quickly pull him out of bed and help him wash his face and teeth. Help him clean up and look like the respectable Chief Justice everyone knows. 

He blinked at you, bleary-eyed, letting you button his shirt. 

“Now arms up.”

He obeyed, now a bit more awake, but his head thunk on your shoulder. 

“You’re too good to me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased, guiding him to the kitchen.

He sat, still drowsy, while you went to make a quick breakfast. His eyes lit up the moment he saw the carefully packed lunch.

“You made soup again…” he murmured, picking up his spoon. 

“You know me too well.”

You peck his cheek.

“Someone has to make sure you eat something that isn’t stressful.”

Neuvillette caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I don't know I would do without you.” You raised a brow. 

“Dramatic.”

“Truthful,” he said, giving you that soft look that made your chest ache. 

“I’d be lost without you.”

You poured him water, leaning in close. 

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

He hummed, content, and smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

The courtroom echoed with voices, petitions, disputes, and lies dressed as truths.

Neuvillette listened, silent and unreadable as always, yet the weight of it pressed heavily on him today.

Humans, no feelings are difficult to understand for Neuvillette. 

During a short break, he retreated to his office. He didn’t expect peace, but when he opened the simple wooden box you'd prepared for him that morning, the tightness in his chest eased.

Carefully arranged: poached fish, soup, soft rice, steamed greens. And nestled beside it, a folded note.

“Don't forget to eat. And breathe. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

You’d drawn a little doodle of him, half-asleep with his hair floofed.

He stared at it for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile touched his lips.

He took a bite of the fish. Light, clean. Just the way he liked it. His heart unclenched, if only a little.

You always knew what he needed before he did.

He tucked the note back into his coat pocket, among the many others.

Then he returned to the courtroom, still weary, but a little steadier.

You found him hunched over his desk, buried in paperwork. Rain tapped on the windows like it was echoing his mood.

Silently, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"...You always find me,” he murmured after a pause, voice tight. “Even when I don’t want to be found.”

“You don’t really mean that,” you whispered, resting your cheek against him.

When it got late, you knew Neuvillette was stuck at work, being the workaholic he is. 

He didn’t argue. Just exhaled shakily, fingers clutching a paper like it had wronged him personally.

“Why are they like this?” he asked. “Humans. So much… cruelty and lies.”

You held him tighter. You knew sometimes these cases could be too much to listen to, after all, people only go to court for frustration, guilt and confessions. 

“Because we’re messy. But we’re capable of kindness too. You don’t have to understand all of it. You just have to be you.”

“But I’m not human,” he said, looking up at you. “How can I judge them if I don’t understand them?”

For a moment, you hesitated because you remembered the time he told you about his true identity, but even then, you never cared for it because you truly loved this man dragon from the moon and back. 

“You don’t need to be them to care,” you said gently, brushing his hair back.

“You’re already doing more than most. That’s enough.”

A deep breath before he turns in his chair and buried his face into your chest. 

You didn’t speak. Just stroked his hair, kissed his temple, and held him. 

“…Thank you,” he whispered. Then he tipped you down and you let him. He kissed you, slow, tender, like you were sunlight and he hadn’t seen the sky in days.

When he finally pulled back, he glanced toward the window.

“…The rain stopped,” he said, almost in disbelief. You smiled, running a finger along his jaw. 

“Told you. You just needed to let someone hold you for a while.”

He smiled, really smiled, and leaned in for one more kiss.

“My heart listens to you more than it does me.”

Another day, another migraine as you would sometimes say. 

"Neuvi, you need a vacation."

He had meant to protest, he always did, but the look in your eyes had silenced him more effectively than any decree. It wasn’t disappointment or frustration. 

It was care. Concern. Love.

He sat at the edge of the bed, fingers absently tracing the letter you had slipped into his coat earlier. He unfolded it now, reading your familiar handwriting:

“You are allowed to rest, Love. You are allowed to be more than the Chief Justice. Let me take care of you.”

He closed his eyes.

For centuries, he had carried so much. 

Dignity. Duty. Distance. 

And yet you, gentle, persistent, loving you, had chipped away at his solitude like water to stone, reshaping him with kindness.

Perhaps...just this once...

He let out a slow breath. And then, deliberately, he stood, walking to the open balcony. 

The moon was dim tonight, and the streets were empty except the automatons guarding the city. With one smooth motion, he shifted, scales rippling over his skin, horns glinting, wings unfurling into the night air.

A dragon once more. It felt liberating despite only showing his half dragon form. 

And as he looked down at the palace below, a deep, low growl rose in his throat. He wanted to take you far away from this place. 

From politics. From judgment. From all the noise.

He wanted to keep you close. Closer than ever.

He took to the skies and took a deep breath.

Perhaps...a vacation has been long overdue. 

After months of court and chaos, Neuvillette finally, finally, listened to you.

You had never been so excited as you pulled out your notes and forgotten plans of just hanging out without work looming over your heads. Still, you wanted it to be relaxing for your dragon husband because you wanted this to be all about him! 

He deserves rest and you would make sure he gets spoiled! The first thing you did was just take him away from the palace and into the Fontaine wilderness, where it would just be you, him, and the sea.

What you didn’t expect was to see Neuvillette showing off in his half dragon form.

You watched as he shifted, wings unfurled, silver-blue scales gleaming in the sun, and you swore you saw him breathe for the first time in weeks. 

No courtroom. No robes. 

Just Neuvillette, in all his dragon majesty, curling his massive body around you in a protective sprawl. 

“You’re hovering,” you teased when he kept nuzzling you every time you moved an inch too far.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest. 

“You wandered out of sight for two minutes.”

“You sound like you were ready to drown someone.”

“I was.”

Each day, he softened. The weight on his shoulders lightened. 

You massaged the tension from his back, whispered reassurances into his neck, and watched him melt under your touch.

But as the days passed, something changed. His touches grew bolder. His gaze lingered longer.

At night, in human form again, he’d pull you close, hands trembling just slightly. 

“Tell me I’m allowed this,” he murmured once, voice rough and low as his fingers trailed your spine. 

“Tell me I can want you.”

“You’re allowed everything, Neuvi,” you whispered against his lips. “Especially me.”

He kissed you slowly, starting off with gentle kisses before turning desperate, with whispered promises.

By dawn, you lay tangled together beneath his draped wing. His breath is warm at your nape. His arm locked around your waist.

“You’re not letting go, are you?” you murmured, half-asleep.

A hum. 

“Never.”

You could say the same. 

The sky was streaked with pink when you tugged Neuvillette’s hand. 

“Beach walk,” you said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He let you lead him, fingers laced with yours, quiet as ever, but relaxed. Peaceful.

The sea air suited him. Personally, you liked that he was out of his “judge” outfit, and in a more shirt and pants. 

Then you spotted them.

“Otters!” you gasped, pointing excitedly at the group rolling around in the surf. One, in particular, caught your eye, blue-gray fur, an almost regal posture, and sharp eyes surveying the world.

You burst into laughter, as you quickly led Neuvillette to them. 

“Wait, look! That one looks just like you.” Neuvillette blinked. 

“You think I look like an otter?” You nodded as you looked back and forth. 

“Same dignified vibe. Same colours. Same mysterious energy. Very composed. Very you.”

He gave you the most bewildered expression. 

“I...see.”

You giggled and crouched near the water’s edge, where the otters now swarmed, squeaking little “kyu” noises as they playfully nuzzled you.

Neuvillette stayed behind, watching. Silent. Still.

One of the otters nestled into your lap, eyes closed in bliss. You cooed at it.

And he frowned.

“…They’re quite clingy,” he muttered, barely audible.

You looked up. 

“Are you… pouting?”

“I am not,” he said, a touch too quickly. 

“Merely observing. They seem rather… attached.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. 

“You are jealous.”

“I am not jealous of an otter,” he said stiffly, before stepping forward and sliding his hand into yours, gently pulling you up and into his side. 

You laughed, letting him pull you close. 

“Jealous much?”

“I prefer ‘protective.’” 

You smiled up at him. 

“Don’t worry. No amount of adorable otters could ever take your place.”

He exhaled slowly, brushing a hand through your hair, gaze softening. 

“Good.”

Still, you made him take photos with otters anyways. 

And now Neuvillette sees it all the time on your nightstand. 

While he judges it all the time, you know that Neuvillette could never be mad at otters forever.

One night, you lay on deck beside Neuvillette on a ship. The lakeside is quiet, with the moonlight catching in his eyes, stormy and somehow intense. 

What was he thinking about even on vacation?

His fingers traced your skin slowly, pausing at your neck.

“You always touch there,” you whispered.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss to the spot.

“It’s my favorite place,” he murmured. Then softer, with a hint of hesitation. 

“May I leave a mark?” Your breath hitched as he leaned over you, staring at you intently, making you feel like you were in the eyes of a dragon.

“A mark?” You asked, breathless. 

“A symbol. A promise.” His eyes didn’t waver. 

For a moment, you simply stared into his eyes, a little pensive. Neuvillette caught your hesitation but did not falter. 

“In dragonkind,” Neuvillette explained softly, “a mark is a symbol, but also a bond. One created from instinct, will, and power. When a dragon marks someone, it means they’ve chosen them as mates.”

“Mates?” You blinked, your heartbeat fluttering.

He nodded. “More than that. It’s a soul-deep tether. A dragon only marks once in their lifetime. Once we do… that bond cannot be undone. No matter time, distance, or circumstance, our hearts remain bound.”

Your lips parted slightly as you looked into his eyes, searching. 

“So…you can’t ever choose someone else?”

“No,” he murmured, “Even if you walked away, even if I never saw you again…I would remain yours. That is how dragons love. We don’t fall often. But when we do, it’s forever.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. Then, with a soft smile, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

“Forever sounds nice.” You leaned back, exposing your neck to him. 

“I trust you.”

You heard him suck in a breath before he swallowed.

“I love you.” You widen your eyes in surprise, he had never said it so explicitly before, which made it all the more special.  

He kissed your neck, warmer this time, and whispered something ancient, words that shimmered like falling rain. Then, he bit down, making you shiver and gasp, but he held you close, making sure you felt comfortable yet safe in his arms. 

A pulse of hydro energy flowed through you, cool and comforting. You felt it settle, and when he pulled back, a glowing symbol remained, blue and silver, delicate yet powerful.

“It’s done.” He looked so relieved, content and satisfied before kissing the mark again. 

You touched it, awed. 

“It’s beautiful…”

“So are you,” he said, reverent. 

“It binds us. Now and always.” You met his gaze. 

“I was already yours.”

“As I am to you,” he said, pulling you close. “But now the world will know too.”

He kissed you then, deep and slow, as if sealing the bond with his very breath.

From that night on, the mark stayed. And every time Neuvillette saw it, his eyes would soften, and he’d kiss it again, like a quiet vow, Mine.

[no-144444]

cherry kisses- l.norris

summary: all's fair in love and fake relationships, yet Lando Norris somehow still finds a way to play dirty

pairing: fakeboyfriend! lando norris x fem! fakegirlfriend! actress! reader

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Falling for Lando Norris was a disaster waiting to happen, and one you chose to avoid. On paper, you two were the perfect power couple, your instagram pages meticulously curated with a snippet of each other in every post, perfectly planned paparazzi picture of you kissing outside pubs or bars or award shows, engagement rumours every few months- rumours that weren’t helped by Lando constantly choosing to get himself a new watch or piece of jewellery a week before you were seen together.

But in the real world, you two were simply business ventures to the other. Entirely uninterested in each other's lives unless it pertained to the contract. He came to support you at award shows or showed up on set to snap some photos, and you went to races to support him. 

Nothing else. No need for it in your life anyway. No room for silly boys, and Lando Norris was the silliest of all boys. 

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“You look pretty,” he smirked from across the room. He had the damn smirk that he always thought would make you break, but it never did. 

“Thank you,” you smiled pleasantly, the image of a perfectly PR-trained celebrity. You really did wonder what they taught F1 drivers about PR, and then you realised it was probably just Lando enjoying breaking the rules. 

“What’s the occasion?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you. You two were bound for a Ralph Lauren event. Lucky you! 

“Have to look good for my boyfriend, don’t I?” you faked a bright smile, which made him laugh, and you rolled your eyes. You pushed his arms off of you and took another sip of your tea.

“So I’m officially your boyfriend now?” he teased. 

You sighed, exasperated. “That’s what it says in the contract, doesn’t it?” You watched as his smirk fell for a split second, almost… upset? Hardly. He didn’t care, and neither did you.  “And anyway, I was talking about Keegan.” 

He giggled behind you in the mirror. You looked up and met his eyes with an awkward smile, and you felt his hand rest on your hip. 

And you felt it. You felt the burn of your skin under his touch. You felt the way his breathing was much too quick for someone calm. You felt the way he was cautiously wanting more. 

“We’re a pretty good-looking couple when you think about it,” he spoke slowly, but that same playfulness laced his tone. “Keegan’s too short for you.”

You scoffed, laughing. “Alright 5’9. Christ,” you chuckled, breaking away from him. “Alright, I have everything, ready?” 

He stared at you for a moment, then turned towards the door of his hotel room with a smirk. He opened it, waiting for you to walk through. What a-. “Always ready, Sugar.” 

That damned nickname, you thought, It was one time. You walked through the door with your head held high, then grabbed his hand when you got to the foyer. 

It was going to be a long day. 

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He watched as you made your way around the room, dutifully greeting those who needed greeting, introducing yourself to people you had to, and generally being your perfect self. It was annoying, you annoyed him. But there was one thing he liked above all else, which was annoying you, which he seemed to be pretty spectacular at. 

“You keep staring,” Keegan leaned in. “You do realise she’s not your actual girlfriend, right?” he chuckled, and Lando joined in, but he couldn’t help but feel the tightness in his chest worsen when he saw one of your old cast mates put his hand on your shoulder. 

He frowned at the scene in front of him, then brushed it off. He knew you’d never do anything to fuck up the contract. While yes, he technically got more professional benefit from it (exposure, more fans, etc.), you got more personal benefits (aka, money), and you wanted to fully fund your directorial debut, so you needed all the cash you could get. “I know,” he chuckled. “It’d look weird if I wasn’t looking at her though,” he explained as he took another sip of his milkshake. “She’s supposed to be my one and only true love, after all.” 

Keegan scoffed. “Tell that to the girls in Miami.”

The guilt in Lando’s gut twisted, making his last sip go down funny. Miami was a mistake, one he hadn’t told you about, but a mistake all the same. “Shut up man-”

“Keegan!” you smiled, wrapping him up in one of your hugs. He hugged you right back, just as tight. Lando frowned. You turned to him. “Hey baby,” you smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, which he accepted gratefully by pulling you into his side. 

“Hey Sugar,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. 

“Where does that come from?” Keegan asked. You slapped a hand over Lando’s smirking mouth before he could explain.

“Don’t ask,” you scoffed, dropping your hand when he licked it. “You’re a child, y’know that?” 

“How was Jer?” he asked, his eyes levelling you. Was he seriously jealous here? Was he jealous of you and Jeremy? 

“He was great. Was wondering where you were, actually,” you answered through gritted teeth. 

“Maybe I’ll see him before the end of the night,” he shrugged, but he was anything but calm. “Go say hi.” 

“You should,” you nodded, taking a sip of his milkshake. “He’d love to see you.” 

Keegan stared at the two of you with a confused expression, then ultimately decided to slowly back away as you two played 5D chess with your words. 

“Taste this,” Lando offered out a cherry from the top of his milkshake, a wicked plan forming in his head. “I know how much you love cherries.” 

You did, in fact, love cherries. Despite your reason to doubt him, Lando would never do anything to break the contract, you knew that. You leaned in to catch the cherry in your mouth, noticing the camera on you two. He pulled it out of your reach until he captured your lips with his own in a gross, open-mouthed kiss. 

The kind that sets your entire body on fire. The kind you leaned in to. The kind that made his other hand circle your waist and distract you enough so that he could slip it further down. The kind that made him feel completely and utterly fucked for you. 

You both pulled back, just staring at each other, until you finally bit the cherry, and turned back to the party, knowing that clip would be all over social media by the next day. You huffed and plastered your best fake smile back on your face, and Lando was left feeling distraught by the counter. 

Like you said, long night. 

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navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[heirloomgem]

Infatuation Series

Summary: Small snippets and cute scenes on your crush on Sung Jinwoo and how Sung Jinwoo courts and wins over you in high school after using the cup of reincarnation.

His sole purpose in this life is to win your heart, become your faithful husband, and have you be the mother of his children. No one else but you. (Mini chapters)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: OOC, Romance, fluff, high school life (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Chapter 1: Chances

Lately, you have been too flustered for your own good but that’s because you’ve started liking someone.

In a classroom filled with students, the sound of pens scratching on paper echoed as students took notes while listening to their teacher.

Some people were diligent, some were dozing off and some were distracted, and you were among them.

Twirling your pen in one hand and leaning on the other, you did your best to listen to the lesson.

However, the calm spring breeze coming through the window seemed to lull you, and your mind gradually began to drift away.

Slowly, your eyes were closing.

Just as you were about to nod off, you caught yourself and quickly straightened up. Opening the back of your notebook you opted to doodle so you won't fall asleep.

It begins with a flower, followed by a bear, a knight's helmet, dragon wings, a dagger and various other unusual and unrelated items until finally you unconsciously draw a chibi version of him.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

Sung Jinwoo.

A second-year student in your high school, whom you started liking recently.

He was your senior by a year as you were in your first year. He was one of the handsome, popular and competent students in your school that most girls fawn over and for boys to idolize.

Like most girls in your school, you were no different from them, who accidentally glanced at him and were instantly smitten.

Foolishly and stupidly smitten.

You didn't know why, but after catching a glimpse of his soft black hair reminiscent of the night, his slender yet beautiful grey eyes, framed by long eyelashes, and his lips, which had a slight reddish tint.

That day, a deep sense of familiarity surged within you. Those feelings captured you and he entangled you with his very being without hesitation.

Even to this day, just remember that moment and how your eyes met made your body heat up, your cheeks flush and a deep aching echo inside you.

Finishing your doodle, you took a moment to admire your drawing of him.

Even though it's just a silly drawing, you couldn't help but caress his small face. A sweet smile appeared on your lips before shaking your head, catching yourself.

Looking at the front, you let out a sigh of relief when you saw that the teacher and your classmates didn't catch you making a silly face out of nowhere and were focused on the lesson instead.

You didn't want anyone, particularly your teacher, to catch you daydreaming especially when your mind wandered toward your silly little crush or else with just a slip everyone in your school would talk about it no doubt and soon he would hear about it.

Just imagining his uncomfortable expression made you shudder, scared and embarrassed.

There's no way you would be able to endure such humiliation if such a thing were ever to happen.

Slapping yourself awake, you flip your notes back and resume jotting down points.

Soon the bell rang, signalling for a break.

You gratefully took the time to stretch your stiff body, worn from sitting in class for almost half of the day. Hearing your bones crack, you let out a sigh of relief, you turn toward your friend before happily inviting her to go out and buy some snacks.

Walking down the hallways while talking to your friend, you furtively give a few glances at his classroom as you pass it. Hoping to catch a glance of him.

However, it seems that luck wasn't on your side, as you didn't even see a glimpse of his clothes. A sense of sadness envelops you, leaving you disheartened.

Unfortunately, you weren’t in the same class or year as him so there were only a few times when you could see him.

Although you envy the students that were in the same year as him, that didn’t dismay you from time to time to wander the hallways of his classroom to try to catch sight of him.

This was one of the few times you hoped to see him, but it seemed the gods were not in your favour today.

You haven't seen nor heard of him at all throughout the morning and now it's already past noon.

You were hoping to at least even just once, you would see him.

Glumly choosing some snacks, you paid right away and waited for your friend's turn before the both of you walked back to your classroom.

Your head hung low as you considered the rest of the day would be unmotivated and restless due to not seeing him.

You wonder why you weren't born in the same year as him. If you had been, you might have had the chance to be with him that year or, even better, have him as your classmate instead of your senior.

Probably because you were too busy weeping childishly, you didn't pay enough attention to where you were going, causing you to crash into someone.

Expecting the painful impact, you held your breath when suddenly, you felt a strong hand holding your waist and pulling you into a warm embrace, steadying your fall.

With your heart racing from fright and still dazed from the incident, it took you a moment to come to your senses before you looked up, ready to apologize.

But your eyes widened instead, your tongue stuck in your throat, and not a word came out.

You felt your face blush uncontrollably, and your whole body trembled. This time, you knew your heart was racing not from fright, but from the nervousness of your crush's sudden appearance.

Standing face to face with your crush, Sung Jinwoo, you could feel his breath as your faces were close to each other, his head bent down, looking at you.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He asked as he gave you a worried look while you, in turn, could only look at him with your mouth wide open.

Both of your friends, who saw the whole situation stood frozen.

For one, your friend knows who your crush is while the other was bewildered with the whole situation.

Lifting his eyes, Sung Jinwoo’s eyebrow furrowed, concerned in his beautiful grey eyes, then brought a hand to touch your forehead which was now red from the earlier collision with his back.

“Your forehead’s bruised. We should go to the infirmary.” He murmured as he caressed your forehead.

Feeling his gentle touch, you snap out of your bewilderment and start rambling nonsensically, your arms flailing, your voice squeaking, and your face all messed up.

You couldn't help but cry in your heart.

Of all times, your bad luck just has to kick you when you least expected it and now you're making a fool of yourself in front of him.

Worst of all you just showed him yourself gawking at him unreservedly.

Not taking it anymore and embarrassed from head to toe, you immediately took your friend’s hand, apologizing before dashing away from the awkward situation.

You’re sure not only your face but your whole body is red as a tomato. Your back sweating profusely.

You’ve always imagined countless scenarios in your head. If you ever got the chance to talk to him, you would act smoothly and gracefully, ensuring that not a hint of your crush would show.

But now! BUT NOW!

You cried in despair.

God! You wish you could burrow yourself in a hole.

You were just grateful that only the four of you were in the hallway; otherwise, not only would you be mortified by your embarrassment, but you were certain that his fans would be furious with you for getting too close to him. And for sure you would be dead meat by the end of the day.

You were so grateful that wasn't the case.

As you and your friend were still running toward your class, a shameless thought popped into your mind, causing your once-red face to turn even redder.

Even though it was but a moment, you shamelessly recalled how his body felt against you.

His body was hard and built.

If you bet with anyone that he absolutely has abs even though he's only a high schooler, you will surely win.

With your mind clouded by immoral thoughts, you didn't notice the classroom door was closed, resulting in you running into it.

A loud sound echoed down the hallway, causing your friend to yelp in concern at your unhinged state.

You muttered a whole storm of curses under your breath.

You're certain the gods intended for you to die in shame today, leaving no corpse behind.

Meanwhile...

As Jinwoo watched you run off, he chuckled, his ears turning red from your cute reaction. After all this time, he had finally reunited with you.

He is eagerly looking forward to the days when you two can finally be together again.

A/N: Ahh, the taste of high school crushes! It’s so fresh but SO cringe at the same time, I couldn’t help but look back at my past crushes. SO CRINGE AND YET SO BITTER AND SO GOOD! Lol!🤣

Anyway, Sorry for the late post. Life has been too busy though I hope you enjoyed this fanfic!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

[sugurusladyknightt]

➺ suguru x reader

"you up?"

"don't do that."

"..don't do what."

"that. 'you up', doesn't suit you"

that makes him laugh, light and airy. laughing in a way that's so pleasant to you, heart squeezing with fondness at the sound. you hate having to hear it though the phone. it never sounds the same.

"oh yea? what would suit me better then?" speaking through it, the breathiness still dances in his tone.

each voice note only a half second long, barely. it was late then, you can hear the sleep in his voice through his old phone's shitty mic. still suguru manages to sound coy. low silken voice oozing smugness through the yawns.

"hmmmn..."

"hmmmn. doing lots of thinking are we?"

"i think, being tied up in pretty ribbons would suit you better suguru."

"you think so?" you hear the way his fingers drum against his chest, "what color?"

"yea. any would be fine, maybe purple? to match your eyes"

"romantic. with a rose in my teeth?"

"with a rose in your teeth. and the robes stay on."

"so many demands." he hums in thought, and after a moment continues, "but it's alright, i like you enough to comply."

you're in bed, your old phone placed near your ear where your head rests against the cool sheets. pressing play on each the little snippets of his voice that you have left, remembering how it felt then.

you keep the volume low — as if he's whispering the words to you once again.

"i'll be spoiled rotten."

thinking back, you aren't sure why you didn't just call him. why he didn't just call you.

"then i'll have done a good job"

you didn't respond after that. the rest of your conversations were a series curt quipped texts, drying out slowly. teetering off into nothingness.

the old battery drains fast; fried from age and excessive use. half way through listening to the voice notes, again, you shut it off.

you don't have the charger anymore, they're getting harder to find too, and you don't wanna leave the battery to drain completely; unsure if it'll work the same, if at all, when you do find one.

silence envelopes you, your cool sheets suddenly feeling cold and biting. the folded phone by your side, without a doubt your most prized possession.

the difference is so odd. you remember being able to sit in silence for hours, basking in it. it's unbearable now. like a bad itch you can't scratch.

irritating and uncomfortable and yet there's no alternative.

ankles crossed in bed as your fingers pull at the fraying wires of a charger that no longer works well. the white of it tainted yellow though still you plug the brick into the wall, connecting it to your phone, wiggling around to find a good angle. one that works.

you'll hold it there 'til your hand cramps and then some. tapping your fingers against the bed, waiting so patiently for the old device to charge before playing back those endlessly precious few short seconds again.

[shadowkoo]

Oh, Baby!

→ Summary: Your brother has finally come around to the fact that you’re in a “serious” relationship with his best friend. However, that doesn’t stop Jungkook from testing his limits…

↠ jungkook x f.reader | 4.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, post-college au, vegas wedding au

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, fucking in a tiny airplane bathroom, fucking in a pool, getting fingered in an elevator, getting caught by your brother a lotttt, teasing, dirty talk, needy!jungkook, drunk sex, alcohol consumption, hangover symptoms, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, exhibitionism

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @studiosev7n @lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq @cosyhomenet

→ Author Note: the long-awaited second part to Oh, Brother! I hope you all love it as much as I do! Check out all of the installments of The Oh! Chronicles series here! If you want a teaser/spoiler for part three, you should join my personal discord server (I’ll be sharing a snippet soon!) As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated!

The bathroom door opens suddenly, and a pissed-off-looking Jaemin is standing there. His eyes drift to you sitting on the bathroom sink with your dress hiked up, then to Jungkook, standing in between your open, exposed legs, with his jeans loosened around his waist.

Jaemin’s face flushes crimson, the fury unmistakable as his eyes lock onto the scene unfolding before him. His fists clench at his sides, every muscle in his body tensing with barely contained rage.

Across from him, Jungkook lets out a nervous laugh, the tension crackling in the air around them.

“Oh, brother….”

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓…

Jungkook taps incessantly on your shoulder, not stopping until you switch your attention from the view from the small window to him and take out your airpods.

“God, this flight feels like it’s never going to end. How much longer?” Jungkook whines, shifting in the seat next to you.

“We only have an hour left. Suck it up,” you reply, popping your airpods back in and restarting your music.

He gives you that classic puppy-dog face he always uses when he’s not getting enough of your attention.

You sigh, taking them out again. “What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow when he still says nothing. Before he can answer you, the overhead speaker crackles to life as the flight attendant makes an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our descent into Las Vegas shortly. Please make any final trips to the lavatories before returning to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, raise your tray tables, and ensure your seat backs are in the upright and locked positions.”

You're headed to Vegas for a post–college graduation celebration for Jaemin, Jungkook, and Jaehyun. It was originally supposed to be a guys’ trip until they found out you were coming. Then, suddenly, everyone invited their girlfriends. You didn’t mind, though. Honestly, you only wanted to come because you didn’t trust Jaemin and Jungkook not to get into another fight.

Jungkook had been unbelievably sweet the first time, he took everything from Jaemin without throwing a single punch back. He knew it was against the bro code to date you, sleep with you, or even think about you. You were so off-limits, yet he couldn’t resist you.

Once Jaemin finally cooled off, he and Jungkook talked things out after a month of silence. Since then, things have been smooth for the most part. Just a couple of minor arguments over dumb stuff, like best friends tend to have.

Still, you can’t shake the feeling that this trip has disaster written all over it. That’s why you were so dead-set on coming along. Jungkook caved first; he’s never been good at saying no to you. Jaemin agreed the next day, realizing that if Jungkook was bringing a girl, then he had an excuse to invite Kira, the girl he’s secretly in love with. And not wanting to be the odd one out, Jaehyun decided to invite his not-so-sneaky link along too.

“Will you come to the bathroom with me?” Jungkook asks, already rising from his seat, clearly expecting you to follow without question.

You blink at him. “What for?”

He doesn’t bother answering, and instead throws a look over his shoulder that makes your stomach flip.

With a sigh, you unbuckle and trail after him toward the back of the plane. He stops outside the lavatory and taps the door, eyes then noticing the small green indicator light that reads Vacant.

Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, he quickly opens the door and ushers you inside. He slips in after you, locking the door behind him.

You’re immediately squished together, your back nearly hitting the tiny sink.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, annoyed and slightly breathless. “Both of us can’t fit in here.”

“I need you,” he murmurs, eyes dark and intense.

“Now?” you hiss. “You couldn’t wait until we’re in the luxurious king-sized bed that’s waiting for us?”

He leans in, brushing his lips along your neck. “I always need you,” he breathes. “I always want you. I always crave you.”

He presses hot, desperate kisses into your skin, moaning like he’s been touch-starved for days as your fingers tangle in his hair. His breath stutters against your neck when you tug just a little, pulling him closer.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Don’t you want to join the Mile High Club? Now’s the perfect chance…”

His hands drift lower, fingers teasing the waistband of your sweatpants with maddening slowness.

You roll your eyes, breath hitching. “And what if we get caught? Then we’re joining the No-Fly List instead.”

But before you can talk yourself out of it, his fingers dip between your thighs, and your argument dies in your throat.

Your back hits the mirror as he kisses you hungrily, all lips and tongue. The cramped space is forgotten the second he slips two fingers inside you, teasing you with shallow thrusts and curling them to hit your sweet spot.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, clutching his shirt to pull him closer, needing more.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his fingers now circling your clit, taunting you for what’s to come.

“Please fuck me,” you breathe, eyes glazed. You're already too far gone to care about consequences.

That’s all it takes. In one swift movement, he yanks your pants down, followed by his own. Wasting no time, he buries his thick cock deep inside you.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out as he starts to move, fast and rough, rocking into you over and over. Thank god you’re in the air, where the engines are loud and the small bumps of turbulence cover up any noises coming from the small space you two occupy.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, as he adjusts his hips to a new angle that has you on the verge of coming undone.

Jungkook is mid-thrust when someone starts aggressively knocking on the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

You freeze. He doesn’t.

“Ignore them, baby,” he growls into your ear, voice thick with lust. “I can’t stop now. Not until I come in this sweet little cunt of yours.”

His pace doesn’t falter as he speaks, hips slamming into yours.

“Fuck, I’m so hard for you. You’re dripping for me, so tight and so perfect. You hear that?” he grunts as he bottoms out again. “That wet little pussy’s begging for it. You’re such a cock-hungry slut, look at you.”

You moan, vision blurring, every filthy word driving you closer to the edge.

“I can feel you gripping me,” he pants. “You gonna come, baby? You want me to make you come all over my cock?”

You nod frantically, unable to form words. Everything in you is coiled tight, seconds from unraveling.

Your body arches against him as waves of pleasure crash through you, every nerve lit up, every muscle trembling. You clamp around him, moaning his name as your orgasm rips through you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop. He groans against your neck, fucking you through the aftershocks, his pace stuttering as he loses control.

“Fuck–” he chokes out, hips jerking as he buries himself deep one last time. His release shoots into you in hot, pulsing streaks, his whole body tensing as he moans your name one last time.

When it’s finally over, you gather yourself with a flushed face and shaky hands. Jungkook presses one last kiss to your temple before using some toilet paper to wipe his come that’s leaking out of you. You both try to straighten your clothes in the tiny mirror before unlocking the door to escape.

After opening the door, you’re met by the impatient glare of a teenage girl.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, sliding past her quickly. And then your heart drops.

Standing directly behind her, arms crossed and jaw tight, is your brother.

Jaemin stares at you both for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then he mutters, “God, you two act like newlyweds—fucking everywhere all the time.”

You can practically feel Jungkook smirk beside you. Cheeks burning, you drag him back to your aisle before he says something that would escalate the ordeal.

Turning your head back around once seated, you make eye contact with your brother who’s face looks just as pissed off. Like he’s silently calculating whether joining the mile-high version of Fight Club would be worth the federal charges.

The first few nights in Vegas were a blur of flashing lights and endless drinks. You danced until your feet ached and woke up with memories that felt like a dream. Last night was a well-needed break. The group opted for a low-key evening, which involved a quick dinner, a few drinks by the resort pool, and an early night to recharge.

Today, you’re still taking it easy. Lounging in the private pool that wraps around your suite, a hidden oasis high above the Vegas strip. The sun is warm on your skin, the water cool against your lower half as you lean on the edge and take in the view.

You close your eyes, breathing in the stillness, until the balcony door slides open.

“Where is everyone? All the rooms are empty.” Jungkook asks as he steps out, towel slung around his neck, sweat still clinging to his post-gym glow.

You tilt your head toward him without opening your eyes, resting your head on your arms. “Jaemin and Kira went to brunch earlier. And Jaehyun’s taking Sophia shopping as a way to make up for flirting with the hostess last night.”

He chuckles, stripping out of his gym clothes and easing into the water beside you.

“I told everyone we’d meet in the lobby at 10. DJ Johnny doesn’t go on until 11, so we’ve got plenty of time to get to the club.”

He hums in agreement, arms sliding around your waist as he pulls you close. For a moment, the two of you just float there in silence, the city stretching below and the desert sun catching the water in shimmering flecks.

“You look happy,” he says softly, his eyes scanning your face.

“I am happy,” you reply, smiling up at him.

He kisses you lightly at first. It’s sweet and unhurried, like he’s savoring this moment with you. But then it shifts. His lips grow firmer, more insistent. The hand on your waist slides lower, fingers pressing into your hip as his tongue parts your lips. The kiss deepens, turning molten. Your body responds instantly, pressing into him as heat begins to build beneath the surface of your skin.

His mouth trails down your neck as he pushes you gently against the pool’s edge. The water laps around you as his hands roam, exploring you, teasing you beneath the surface. You gasp when his fingers find their way between your thighs, and he smirks against your skin.

“Think you can handle me? I’m fully recharged and overflowing with energy,” you tease with a grin.

“You know the gym doesn’t drain me. If anything, it just pumps me up,” he murmurs, voice low and full of promise as he presses his hard length against you. “Think you can handle me?”

You chuckle, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in for another kiss. He pulls the material of your bathing suit bottoms to the side before thrusting into you, the water adding a slow, gliding rhythm to every thrust. The city sparkles behind him, but you can’t take your eyes off his face.

“I love you,” you moan, breathless, pulling his face back to yours for another scorching kiss. Your lips crash together, tongues tangling, bodies clinging beneath the water like you’re trying to melt into each other.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Jungkook growls against your mouth.

He grips your waist, lifting you just enough to slip out of you, only to slam back in, hard and deep. The water ripples violently around you as your hips meet with perfect timing repeatedly. You toss your head back with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

A low groan escapes him as he watches you come undone. One hand braces behind your back, the other reaches up to tug at the strings tied behind your neck. With a practiced flick, your bikini top slips loose and floats off beside you, forgotten.

His eyes darken as he stares at your bare chest, his mouth instantly descending to taste you. Jungkook leaves hot, wet kisses trailing over sensitive skin as he sucks a nipple between his lips.

You're lost in it, lost in him, until a familiar voice breaks your spell.

“Oh, shit,” Jaemin curses, immediately turning away, hand thrown up to shield his eyes. “What the fuck, you guys? Seriously?!”

You shriek, instinctively trying to cover yourself, but Jungkook barely flinches, holding you firmly against him, knowing that his broad shoulders hide you from your brother’s view.

From inside the suite, Kira peeks out, drawn by Jaemin’s raised voice. Her eyes widen the second she takes in the scene of you straddling Jungkook in the pool, easily able to figure out what you guys are up to.

Moving quickly to Jaemin’s arm with both hands. “Let’s go,” she says brightly, dragging him back toward the suite. “Give them some privacy.”

Jaemin mutters under his breath, still scowling. “Fucking hell. I take it back, you’re worse than newlyweds. At this point, you’re like like fucking horny teenagers.”

He throws a glare over his shoulder. “Jungkook! Don’t make me fuck you up again, bro. I will! Geez!”

“Oh, come on, Jaemin,” Kira laughs, tugging him away before his temper flares. “Don’t be such a cockblock. See you two later!” She shoots you a wink just before disappearing inside, her voice echoing faintly, still teasing Jaemin for his unlucky streak of catching you two.

You make a mental note to buy her a thank-you drink tonight.

But that thought vanishes the second Jungkook thrusts up into you again, dragging you back into the moment. The water splashes around you with every movement, slapping softly against the tiled edges of the pool.

Your head falls back, mouth parted in a silent moan as your body clenches around him again. And this time, there’s no holding back.

You’re not exactly sure how you ended up here.

When you and Jungkook slipped out of the club earlier tonight, ditching your friends in a whirlwind of whispered giggles and stolen touches, you figured it would end in another wild quickie somewhere. And to be fair, it started that way. He had his hands all over you in the back of the taxi, his mouth on your neck as the Strip blurred by.

But then, the car dropped you both off at the far end of Las Vegas Boulevard, where you ran straight into a group of strangers who swore they’d partied with you on your first night in town. Whether they were right or not didn’t really matter; they bought you shots like old friends and kept them coming, one after the other, until the world tilted sideways.

And somehow...you agreed to Jungkook’s crazy idea.

Now you’re standing inside a chapel bathed in neon pink light, next to a man in a bedazzled Elvis costume who smells faintly of old cologne and too much hairspray. Jungkook is holding both of your hands in his, his fingers warm and solid around yours. His grin is so wide it practically splits his face in half, his eyes crinkling with drunken joy as he watches the impersonator read the vows.

“Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Elvis says in a dramatic drawl.

“I do,” Jungkook replies without hesitation, his voice thick with emotion, and maybe tequila. “With my whole heart.”

He slips a thin silver ring onto your finger. One he bought just minutes ago from a display stand outside. It’s slightly too big and also a little tacky, but somehow perfect.

Now it’s your turn. You blink up at him, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.

“I do,” you say softly, biting back a giddy laugh. “With my whole heart.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Elvis impersonator declares with flair, throwing out his arms. “You may kiss!”

Jungkook’s hands envelop your face as he kisses you, sealing your fate.

The handful of drunk couples that are waiting for their turn cheer loudly as Jungkook lifts you straight off your feet. You wrap your arms around his neck, squealing as he carries you bridal-style down the narrow aisle and out of the chapel, laughing the whole way.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say breathlessly, still laughing as you cup his jaw and guide him into another messy kiss.

“I can’t either,” he says against your lips, eyes shining. “But god, I’m so ridiculously happy right now.”

He sets you down and pulls you close, forehead pressed to yours.

“Mrs. Jeon Jungkook, you make me so fucking happy. I love you, baby. So much.”

You can’t stop smiling and neither can he.

The next morning, your head feels like it’s still spinning. The light bleeding through the hotel curtains is too bright, stabbing straight into your skull. You groan and crack an eye open, trying to piece together where you are, and more importantly, what the hell happened last night.

Bits and pieces flash into your memory.

The pounding bass of the DJ set. Clinking shot glasses. Jungkook’s laughter against your ear, both of you cracking up about something that felt hilarious at the time. Though now you can’t recall a single detail.

You shift beneath the sheets, rubbing your eyes, when something cool and metallic catches your attention.

You pause, blinking.

There’s a ring on your finger.

A ring.

You yank your hand back and jump upright, heart now thudding in your chest like it’s trying to break free. In your sudden panic, your elbow smacks straight into Jungkook’s face.

“Ow! What the–” he groans, rolling onto his side. “Babe, what was that for?”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, scrambling out of bed.

Still half-drunk, half-hungover, and fully spiraling, you make a beeline for the bathroom and immediately hurl the remnants of last night into the toilet.

Your knees hit the cold tile as you clutch the porcelain bowl, your mind spinning even faster than your stomach.

Jungkook is at your side a moment later. Sleepy, shirtless, and concerned, he crouches beside you without saying a word, gently pulling your hair back and rubbing slow, soothing circles across your spine.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Once you’re fairly certain your insides are empty, you lean back on your heels, wiping your mouth with a towel and groaning.

“I feel like death,” you mumble.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook says with a lazy smile, though his eyes are scanning your face carefully. Searching. Bracing.

He stands, reaching into the shower to turn on the water. Steam starts to fill the bathroom as he undresses and steps inside, then turns to hold out his hand for you.

You hesitate.

Your eyes drop to the ring on your finger again, then flick back to his face.

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. You can tell he’s watching you closely, reading every micro-expression, seeing if you have any doubt. There’s no trace of regret in his eyes, but there’s a quiet question behind them.

What are you feeling? And are we okay?

You reach for his hand and step in beside him.

You wash up quickly, letting the hot water rinse away the hangover haze clinging to your skin. Feeling clean doesn’t solve everything, but it helps ground you.

After drying off and throwing on fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of the bed and breathe for a moment. Jungkook's quiet, giving you space, but you can still feel his eyes on you.

Then, finally, he breaks the silence.

“C’mon,” he says gently. “Let’s get some breakfast and cure your hangover before you spiral again. I got a text from Jaemin, they’re waiting for us in the lobby if we want to join everyone for brunch.”

You nod, grabbing your phone and purse before the two of you leave the suite and step into the elevator. Oh god…how are you going to tell everyone…

Jungkook speaks again once the elevator doors close. “Well, last night happened.”

You exhale, almost laughing. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

You start picking at your fingernails, nerves creeping in again as the elevator begins its descent. Jungkook notices instantly.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hands in his. “Don’t do that. Don’t second-guess this. I’m happy. Let’s be happy.”

You look up at him. He gives you that soft smile, the one that always manages to settle your heart.

He pulls you into a hug, wrapping you up like he’s trying to shield you from the chaos of the outside world.

“It’s not how I imagined it, not even close,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But you know what? I love that I get to call you my wife now. I like that I’m your husband.”

He leans back just enough to nuzzle into your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin in a quiet, reassuring gesture.

And for a moment, your worries melt away. Because if nothing else, you’ve got him. And maybe that’s more than enough.

His hand squeezes your waist as the elevator descends, and you feel his fingers trailing lower, skimming the hem of your skirt with intent.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, glancing toward the mirrored walls, but he’s already moving, slipping his hand beneath the fabric like he owns you, because, well, after last night…he kind of does. And you kind of like that.

His fingers find your heat instantly, and your breath catches in your throat.

“So wet already,” he hums against your ear, voice low and dangerous. “You want to get caught, don’t you?”

You press your back against the elevator wall, heart hammering as his thumb begins to circle your clit.

It feels so good that you can barely stand. The pressure is building fast, your thighs trembling as he slides two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he curls them just right.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he says, nipping your earlobe. “Look at yourself. Watch how fucking wrecked you look when I touch you.”

Your gaze finds the mirrored wall. You see your parted lips, the way your chest rises and falls, the dark hunger in Jungkook’s eyes as he watches you unravel.

He moves faster, fucking you with his fingers, thumb pressed tight to your clit.

“Scream my name, baby. Who makes you feel this good? Who makes you come uncontrollably?”

“Jungkook!” you cry out before you can think.

He sinks his teeth into your neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you gasp.

“Wrong,” he growls. “Try again.”

“M–my husband,” you stammer, on the verge of falling apart. “My husband makes me come uncontrollably.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, voice thick with pride and lust. “That’s fucking right, wife. Now come all over these fingers. You’ve earned it.”

And you do, trembling, legs barely holding you up, biting down a scream as wave after wave crashes over you.

As the elevator nears the lobby, he slowly pulls his hand from between your thighs, sucking one of his fingers into his mouth like he’s tasting the best thing he's ever had before returning it for more.

“Wow,” you pant, trying to catch your breath. “Being married already has its perks.”

He smirks, using his other hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Baby, we haven’t even started collecting the benefits.”

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the lobby, and the doors slide open with an almost theatrical slowness, just in time to reveal a very pissed-off-looking Jaemin standing directly in front of you.

Judging by the way his jaw is clenched and the murderous glare aimed at the two of you, he definitely heard the tail end of that little scene. Probably more.

“You’re married?!” Jaemin’s voice echoes through the lobby, loud enough to turn heads. A few bystanders pause mid-step, curious and mildly entertained by the drama unfolding in front of the elevators.

Thankfully, he hasn’t seemed to notice Jungkook’s hand still slick from where it was between your thighs before he reluctantly slips it away.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, letting out a sheepish laugh. “Well, the honeymoon’s off to a strong start. Guess your newlyweds joke actually fits now…”

Jaemin takes a slow, threatening step forward and Jungkook tenses beside you, instinctively bracing for whatever’s coming next, whether it’s a punch, a lecture, or both. But when his eyes flick back to yours, and he sees the worry written all over your face, his shoulders square a little more.

Whatever’s coming, he knows it’s all worth it.

“Oh, baby…”

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[corroded-hellfire]

Eddie and AYW Reader making out on the couch and basically dry humping until he comes in his jeans. That’s the request.

I can’t believe that this is the 100th AYW story. That is so wild to me. Thank you all for still reading, never mind reading it to begin with! Y’all are the best 🥰

Warnings: not quite smut but it toes the line. Eddie creams his jeans, dry humping

Words: 2.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

A rumbling sigh slips through Eddie’s lips as he shuts the front door behind him. It felt like work was eighty hours long today instead of eight. Between reconstructing an engine and snippets of his steamy dream about you last night coming back to him, each second that ticked by was torturously stretched out. 

He kicks his boots off just as the fast pitter-patter of little feet approaches him.

“Daddy!” Luke squeals.

“Hey, buddy!” Eddie scoops his youngest up and rests him on his hip. “How was school today?”

“Good,” Luke replies, absentmindedly playing with a section of hair that had fallen out of the bun at the nape of Eddie’s neck. “D’you know hockey pucks used to be made with cow poop?”

Eddie’s mouth pops open, mind trying to process his son’s words and a possible response. 

“I—uh… No. No, I did not. That’s what you learned at school today, huh?”

“Yep.” The little boy wriggles so Eddie plops him back down on his feet.

“Tax dollars well spent,” Eddie mumbles to himself as he follows his mini-me into the kitchen. 

Inside, Ryan is sliding his homework folder back into his backpack. You’re bent over, searching for something in the fridge, and Eddie’s body has an immediate response to you in that position. That might just be the one position the two of you weren’t in in his dream last night. 

“Hi, Daddy!” Ryan calls as he zips up his backpack.

“Hey, pal.” Eddie ruffles his golden-brown hair before coming up behind you and accidentally bumping his hip up against your ass.

Heat rushes to your cheeks despite the waves of cold wafting over your face from the refrigerator. Coming to the conclusion that Luke must have finished his last Yoo-Hoo and therefore can’t have the one that he asked you for, you stand up straight and spin to meet Eddie’s gaze. The way his eyes glint with mischief as he tries his hardest to suppress a smirk does nothing to calm your body down. Every damn look this man gives you is a turn on. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says, only a hint of laughter creeping into his voice. “Didn’t see you there.”

You step forward and let the refrigerator door fall closed behind you.

“Uh huh,” you hum, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Eddie can’t hold his chuckle back any longer and moves so he’s leaning back against the counter. Simply being in his personal space feels too charged, so you force yourself to walk over to the kitchen table and run a hand over Ryan’s hair.

“That was all your homework?” you ask.

“Yup!”

“Good job.”

“Can we please play a game now?” Luke runs his hands down his face, letting his fingers tug down his bottom eyelids, revealing the vibrant red on the other side of the skin.

“Yes, I know, I promised you a game.” You boop his nose as he shuffles past you, gait reminiscent of a zombie. 

The little boy continues forward until he bumps into his father’s tall frame.

“Can we play Twister?” Luke asks as he grabs Eddie’s left hand, spinning a chunky silver ring around his middle finger. 

“Daddy can spin the thing, and we can get all tangled up on the mat!’ Ryan grins, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

The mental image of you bending in different positions right in front of him is more than poor frazzled Eddie can handle. He clears his throat and rubs his free hand along his stubbled jaw. 

“Um, how about this…” Eddie trails off, mind racing since he doesn’t have a decent alternative already thought up. “Uh, oh! Okay. How about you guys go take your baths right now? That way we can play a game when you’re done.” And God does Eddie hope they want a different game by then. “That way you already have your baths done for the night so we can watch two movies before bed.”

“Two?!” Eddie thinks Luke’s eyes are going to pop out of his head as he stares up at him. 

“Mhmm.” Eddie gently shakes the hand that Luke’s still holding onto. “Each of you can pick one.”

Luke widens his eyes and rocks back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet.

“Can I pick a PG movie?” A small, cute pucker grows on his lips as he attempts to sway his father with his adorableness. 

Eddie cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows.

“Depends on the movie. But maybe.”

“Yes!” 

It’s all Luke needs to hear before running out of the kitchen, down the hall towards the bathroom.

“Can I pick the first movie?” Ryan asks once his little brother is gone.

“Sure thing, pal.” Eddie nods. “Go ahead, go take your bath.”

After both of the boys have vacated the kitchen, you saunter over to Eddie and slide your hands up his coverall-clad chest. Your forefinger traces the letters of his name on his left breast pocket.

“So, not a fan of Twister?” You tilt your head up and bat your eyelashes as innocently as you can manage.

“Maybe too much of a fan when you’re involved.” 

Eddie slides one arm around your waist and pulls your body flush up against his. The way your thigh presses up against his crotch allows you to feel that he’s already half hard. The friction makes Eddie release a small groan as you give a tiny gasp in surprise.

“What’s got you worked up?” you ask, no flirting or teasing, just genuine curiosity in your tone. 

“Well,” Eddie says, slipping a hand into each of the back pockets of your jeans, “there is the fact that I came home to see my girl bent over in front of me. After all the fantasizing I’ve been doing about her today. After the hottest fucking dream I’ve ever had last night.”

“Wow, so you’ve been ready to go all day, huh?” Your smirk indicates the teasing has returned. 

Eddie’s hands squeeze your ass as his head ducks down until his mouth is a mere inch from yours.

“You have no idea,” he growls. 

The timbre sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, which Eddie notices. He grins and it’s positively predatory. You’ll happily be this man’s prey any day.

“I think,” you say softly, “I’ll go into your room and see if I can find anything that might be able to help you with your…problem.” It takes a massive amount of strength to take a step back, out of Eddie’s arms, but the prospect of having his body on top of yours in a matter of moments gives you the drive you need. 

Brown eyes darkened with lust trail you as you slink out of the room. He stands there, silently counting to five before he follows you. 1…2…3…4–oh fuck it, here I come.

Eddie shoves himself off of the counter, steps hurried as he heads down the hall. The moment he steps into his room, you’re sitting at the edge of his bed, one leg crossed over the other, your foot lazily bobbing up and down. The desire that’s been burning in him all day flairs into a roaring fire. His tongue slowly licks over his teeth as he quietly shuts and locks the door behind him. 

“Lay down.”

The command leaves no room for argument as you lay back, scooting until your head rests on Eddie’s pillow. A quick glance to the side has you shoving Brittany’s pillow over the edge. 

Eddie kneels on the foot of the bed, one leg on either side of your ankles. His gaze rakes up your body, starting at the hem of your jeans, up your sensuous legs, the zipper and button that Eddie yearns to pop open, the curve of your waist and the swell of your breasts, up to the face that he swears was crafted by angels.

No hastiness in his movements, Eddie leans down until his hands are splayed on each side of your stomach. He leisurely leans down and lets his nose brush up the hem of your shirt. Once your soft skin is exposed, Eddie presses gentle kisses in a trail up to the bottom of your bra. Hot breath ghosts against your neck as Eddie crawls further up your body. It’s agony waiting until his face hovers directly above yours. 

A smile involuntarily grows, brightening his entire face. Your eyes trace the lines of his mouth, where they come to little dimples in his cheeks. But Eddie takes your chin in his fingers and moves your head so your gazes lock again.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Instead, you lay there, staring up at him. The fiery look in his eyes makes your breathing speed up. 

Torturously slow, Eddie finally leans down and connects his mouth to yours. You immediately respond, tilting your head to slot your lips against his, greedy for all you can get from him. His body weight steadily presses down against you, one of his legs slotting between yours. Your arms immediately wrap around him, one hand tugging the hair tie out so his locks can fall free. A soft moan rattles your chest as you sink your fingers into Eddie’s hair. The sound has Eddie’s thigh pressing harder against your core. His hard length also rubs against your leg, the feel of it causing an ache deep within you. 

Your lips part and Eddie wastes no time brushing his tongue against your own. The kisses quickly become frantic, urgent, with him licking into your mouth as your two legs wrap around his one to keep it right where it is against the too-thick denim you’re wearing. 

The way his scruff brushes against your chin irritates it with the most pleasurable burn you’ve ever experienced. His mouth is wet and hot against yours and you feel as if you could fall apart just from this. 

A groan into your mouth only heightens your pleasure. One large hand slides down and grasps at your waist the other gently cupping the side of your head as he leans on that arm for balance. Eddie’s hips roll up against yours with more fervor, the frequency increasing as well. Every stroke of his tongue against yours comes with his body pressing up against yours, your panties beyond soaked at this point. 

Even between your jeans and the material of Eddie’s coveralls, you feel his cock twitch against your leg. His excitement makes the feel of his tongue in your mouth even sexier. 

He must agree by the sound of another groan. The low rumble vibrates against your chest. Hips press flush up against yours, your body now rocking in time with his own. The hand pressed against your waist starts to slide up your body and you’re quick to cover it with your own. Mouths not skipping a beat, and hips keeping up their rhythmic pace, you drag Eddie’s hand underneath your t-shirt and up your skin. The back of your hand pushes the left cup of your bra away and you bring Eddie’s hand to rest on your bare breast.

The moment his skin meets yours, the hard pebble of your nipple pressing against the palm of his hand, Eddie’s hips give one last lurch before they still. He moans into your mouth until he can’t breathe anymore and is forced to pull back. Both of you are panting as Eddie rests his forehead against your cheek, his chest heaving against yours, both of your hands still between them. 

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbles, followed by a low chuckle. It takes a moment between the layers of clothes, but you soon feel the warmth growing against your thigh. You let out a chuckle of your own as your eyes slip closed.

“Was good?” you ask breathlessly. 

“Jesus Christ, you make me feel like a teenager,” he mumbles against your jaw. “I don’t think I’ve come in my pants since high school.”

“I’m honored.” You both share a soft laugh as you slip your hand from beneath your shirt and gently scratch your fingers against Eddie’s scalp.

“I should be embarrassed,” he says with a sigh.

“No, you–”

“But I’m not,” Eddie cuts you off. “How the fuck do you make me feel so comfortable to be me so freely? Even when I come in my pants like a virgin.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I do,” you tell him. 

The hand that was previously against the side of your face snakes down and blindly searches for your hand. You’re quick to slip it into his larger one and he laces your fingers together.

“Fuck, I guess I should get up before it makes a mess of your pants, too. That would be fun to explain away.”

“Mm, don’t move,” you huff. 

“I gotta,” he laments with a sigh. 

“Fine. But you must give me one more kiss before you do.”

Eddie looks up at you with that boyish grin that always makes your stomach flip.

“I can do better than that.”

He leans up and presses three gentle but loving kisses against your lips. It leaves a smile on your face as he pushes himself up and moves off of the bed. Lazily, you watch him change out of his coveralls and into new boxers, a t-shirt, and jeans. When he catches you staring, Eddie throws you a wink. 

“Unfortunately, we’re out of time for shenanigans today. Bath time usually only lasts half an hour,” he says as he comes back towards the bed. He sits down on the edge and rubs his hand along your thigh. “But I refuse to let this go unreciprocated. So…” He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours and bumps your noses together, “tomorrow you better be ready to see how many times I can make you come in half an hour.”

Your thighs clench together just at the thought.

“Bring it on, baby.”