#FINALLY. THE OTHER HALF. I GIVE UP MAKING IT LOOK GOOD

[vampmira]

open up what you got in your mind to me. [pt.2 – saja boys.]

they've never met someone like you — a mortal who almost knew them .. better than they knew themselves. for the boys, it's annoyingly intriguing. for the girls, it's comforting.

paring(s): huntrix & saja boys x demon expert!gn!reader

warning(s:) EVERYTHING IN HERE IS A PART TWO TO THIS !! some movie changes, probably effected lore that makes no sense for the sake of the narrative, a little angst at the beginning

request | tags: @blueberrysquire @akariis4snowball @j0ykill

a/n: this is part 2 !! i had sooo many ideas for huntrix that i had to make another part for the saja boys so that it wasn't so long . this part isn't as good but i liked it so ☆☆☆

that night huntrix defeated gwima was a blur. all you remember was the zombie mob of fans, half of the fight, and the use of your aura vision to raise the saja boys above the honmoon before it glimmered in gold. jinu, who gave his newly found soul for rumi, was practically reincarnated through her sword – standing in front of her post-concert, arms open for her to fall into with tears from the both of them. everyone else? well, they felt lost.

the saja boys weren't sure what to do anymore. jinu was overjoyed, of course, but the boys knew nothing more beyond gwima and their mission. they didn't care much about music, nor their fans – which huntrix still couldn't wrap their minds around – and it's not like they had secret human hobbies. they never had time for that. until now.

post-gwima, they stayed in an apartment near the huntrix penthouse, trying to figure out their new lives. for the most part, they spent most of their time under your watch – to make sure they didn't go cause chaos – but also .. under your study.

you were weird to them

they weren't used to someone other than them.. knowing them

their capabilities, their knowledge, their origins.

actually jinu found your extensive understanding of what he is to be kind of comforting

he noticed how you never really drooled over them

you'd stare, sure, but in the same way an art critic would stare at a painted blue canvas with a smeared red dot in the middle

he felt like that red dot – unexplained but you somehow understood

when he told you about his past, it was a lot for him – talking about his cruel choice

but you.. didn't judge him.

in fact, you wrote it down in your notebook immediately, the one you never let the boys get too close to

he accepted you into his life when he entertained your interest in his history

unlike him, however, the other boys were uninterested

at first anyway

thank jinu for getting them to talk to you btw

it took a little bit of convincing – telling them that you wanted to give them something more than just gwima

even though they didn't want it ...

REGARDLESS they hang out around the penthouse

because they're no longer saja boys (uninterested and unsupported by any demon staff anymore)

they really had nothing to do but mildly annoy your personal space

including being the center of your attention when the girls are out

mira gave you one rule, "living room and bathroom. only." and you've succeeded so far. abby and romance were talking by the large scale windows, mystery was playing some game with baby (and obviously winning), and jinu sat in the middle of the couch, watching whatever movie rumi put on for him. you sat beside him, sketching in your one and only personal researcher book. your pencil drew out what you felt like was the final line in mystery's hair ... before you huffed, erasing it, and trying again.

that was... until the littlest demon startled you.

"mystery, they're drawing you." bored of his game, baby peered over your shoulder, only passively curious and really wanting to mess with you. heads turned at your exposure to the room, especially jinu, who looked over your other shoulder at the sketch you did of him earlier.

"you're.. sketching us?" the direct ask made you a bit nervous, especially being under so many eyes. (kind of. mystery was more just.. generally facing your direction.) "'weakness.. chest?' are you taking notes on us?" you stood up, nearly defensive, turning around to face the couch trio.

"if it weren't for your old friends, i wouldn't have to write it all down again." the boys went quiet, remembering the origin of your knowledge and powers. "i'm just.. tired of keeping it all inside. i need to get it out somewhere."

romance, true to his name, leaned over your shoulder, putting you both in a proximity much closer than you've ever had to experience before.

"then why don't we do something.. a little more fun .. to help you get it all out?"

normally sentences like that from him sound way more suggestive than he means them to be

but this time he came up with an actual solution to release your closed up, ready-to-pop-out-of-your-skin knowledge

they gave you a one way trip to infodump station ! an interview !

they wanted to learn more about you anyways

their fellow demons down below were the ones to wipe out your ancestors

not them

and they make sure you know it too

but they can't help but feel .. a little, tiny bit bad that you're now just a living library

a time capsule, holding onto so much information that you're about to burst 24/7

they had never met a researcher honestly

you intrigued them as much as they did for you

how much did you really know ?? did you know anything or is all this antsy behavior a ploy to make it look like you knew everything when you really knew nothing ??

their disguises were perfectly created to make every little fan fall for their attractiveness the second they looked at the boys

but you never drooled at them or had your eyes pop out of your head

you just always... stared. processing. tracing mindfully.

they didn't know what you were really abut. but they were about to find out. and really test your persona.

romance sat relaced in a chair as you circled him, pencil taking note of everything you noticed. how his markings were sharp, not rounded like rivers, how his skin was cooled, not burning hot. all things you already knew, but you found small comfort in knowing not much changed. you took a deep breath around his hair, nose scrunching up. he smiled, taking your cheek in his hand.

"new cologne." his voice was smooth, gentle. traditionally alluring. "just for you. do you like it?" he turned up his flirtatiousness, pulling you in closely, testing the waters of your focus.. before you turned away to start writing, completely uneffected.

"so many generations and you guys still smell like flames.." you mumbled to yourself.

"would you rather we smell like bubblegum?" baby tried to sass you, but you were too focused on the sharpness of his teeth to care. you stepped towards him, eyes widened.

"can demons still tear apart brick with the force of their canines?" you asked, rather close to his face. for a moment, he almost felt like the flustered one.

"yes..? no? i-i don't know." he crossed his arms, childishly. "i don't go around biting bricks." you jot it down still as you move towards abby. he's deeply relaxed, leaning back on the couch, comfortable shirt riding up to expose his famously toned abs. your eyes trail off of your notebook and they think.. they've got you.

"like what you see?" he teases. "you can touch them, you know." a bold move that brings you closer, nails tracing his skin. they're almost disappointed that abby is the one who stole your attention.. before they realize you're attention isn't stolen at all. you're drawing his markings with careful detail.

"where did yours come from? rumi's started forming on her arm when she was a kid, but they haven't reached her stomach yet. they grow with time, right? how old would that make you then..?" you dissolve into mutters they can barely decipher. "oh!! mystery!" he almost jumps behind the couch when you race over to him, making jinu laugh from the sidelines of their attempts to flirt with you. "i've never seen a demon sparkle! that's new.. is that just you? or is there a whole subspecies of sparkling demons? or is it your human disguise..?" your questions nearly overwhelm him, enough to make him forget how he's supposed to flirt with you, but romance pulls you away, whispering in your ear.

"it's not just him." he smiles, hand on your shoulder. "you're sparkling, too, sweetheart." if anyone could fluster anyone, it'd be him, even if it takes two rounds. his thumb runs against your chin. "you look so cute in this lighting, like a rose."

"speaking of which, what's the flora like down there? are there any? do they eat demons or are they like.. regular flowers? we knew more of demons than of gwima's realm. did they smell? i bet they might have.. would it be nostalgic or torturing?"

the boys share a look, and sigh. you went off into high speed muttering again.

you really were everything you said

uninterested in their flirts and more in knowledge

that almost made them like you more..

in the following times after the interview, they greeted you a bit more casually – sometimes cheerfully, asking if you had any new drawings or trivia you wanted to get off your chest

how did you . tame them !? does the whole hard to get thing actually work !?

it confused the girls wildly

but to see them adjusting to being here through someone who actually understood them instead of lying around, empty and lost, was a pick-me-up in the mornings

one morning, after being delivered a coffee, handsigned by the boys, you felt something click in your head, a sensation you had never felt before, and reached to put it in your notebook immediately

"demons, when properly befriended, like to be understood. they brought me coffee. do demons like coffee??"

[authorchariot]

> ENTRY: ITS_ALWAYS_THE_QUIET_ONES

RATING: explicit

CATEGORY: top gun: maverick (2022)

PAIRING: bob floyd x afab!reader (mc's call sign is 'pez'.)

EST. READING TIME: 37m 0s

INDEX TAGS: (not actually) unrequited love, cock-warming, friends to lovers, love confessions, masturbation, not beta read, oral sex, pov second person, size difference, size kink, vaginal sex

SUMMARY: after the mission with mav, you find bob drunk at the resulting party at the hard deck. as a designated driver, you take it upon yourself to get him home and into bed safely but staying composed proves harder than expected

ACCESS MATERIAL ON AO3 OR BELOW

The Hard Deck is louder than it's been in weeks. Rooster and Hangman are fighting over the jukebox. Payback's halfway into a dramatic retelling of the mission to a captivated circle of admirers, punctuated with exaggerated hand gestures and Maverick's quiet chuckling. Fanboy's mixing questionable liquors together like he's auditioning for a bartending job no one asked for. It's celebration in full swing. The mission's done. Everyone's alive. Everyone made it home.

And Bob — quiet, dependable, sweet, baby-faced Bob Floyd — is drunk.

He doesn't look it at first. But you can see it in the tilt of his shoulders, the soft pink in his cheeks, the vague squint he gives the bottles behind the counter like he's trying to read through a fog.

You spot it from across the room. You've been watching him on and off all night. Not in a creepy way— At least, you hope not. Just in a way that's...careful. Curious. Quiet. Like you always are with Bob. Because if you let yourself feel it too hard — the pull, the fondness, the way he talks with his hands when he's excited — you might never stop.

You've had a drink; just the one. You're a designated driver tonight. That and watching Bob lose his balance trying to sit on a barstool has very effectively sobered you up. You finish your water, nod to Phoenix and move across the bar like the world isn't tilting just a little because he's looking at you now.

Why?

Because you've had a thing for Bob Floyd since the first day you saw him fiddling with the collar of his flight suit, too quiet for the room but, damn, if he didn't hold his own in the air. Because he always remembers how you like your coffee. Because he asked how your dog was doing after his surgery, even two weeks later. Because he makes you feel seen.

"Hey." You say gently, sliding into the space next to him. "You good?" He blinks at you. Then his face lights up; not like a flash but a slow dawn that warms everything it touches.

"Pez." He says, soft and too fond for how casual he tries to sound. "You're here." You smile.

"Been here the whole time, Bob." He looks at his drink like it's betrayed him.

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

You glance him over. His collar is a little crooked and his glasses are ever-so-slightly askew. His usually neat hair is slightly mussed and there's a half-moon mark on his palm where he's been gripping his glass too hard. He's not swaying. But he's definitely drifting. You rest a hand lightly on the edge of the bar.

"How many have you had?" He frowns.

"Three. No— Wait. Hangman said the one he gave me didn't count 'cause it was pink."

"That doesn't sound right." Bob leans closer and squints at you.

"You smell like mint."

"That'd be the gum I've been chewing instead of drinking." You reply, amused. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." He straightens. Sort of.

"I'm fine."

"You're adorable." You correct. "But also definitely tipsy and I'd rather you didn't fall asleep like last time."

"I didn't fall asleep, I—"

"You nodded off against the jukebox for twenty-three minutes." He considers this.

"It was playing Fleetwood Mac." You arch a brow.

"That's your excuse?" He almost looks offended.

"I like Fleetwood Mac." He mumbles. You can't help it; you laugh. And, across the bar, the other Dagger Squad pilots exhale in collective relief like finally. It goes unnoticed by you.

You help Bob off his stool, a drink forgotten in his hand, and he goes to steady himself on the edge of the bar but misjudges the distance. In trying to recover, the remnants of his last beer spill all over his uniform shirt, making it cling to him like a second skin.

"Woah!" You grab onto his shoulders. "You okay?" He stumbles slightly as he tries to catch himself, hands reflexively reaching out to hold onto your arms for support. His cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as he feels the cold beer seeping into his shirt, looking down at the mess with embarrassment.

"Sorry..." He murmurs and you haul him upright.

"Don't apologise." You glance across to see Phoenix chuckling and shaking her head. "I think I need to take you home though." He laughs nervously, pushes his hair out of his eyes and tries to straighten his glasses.

"Yeah... Yeah, that might be a good idea." He leans against you for support as you start helping him to the door. You yell over your shoulder that you're taking him home, wishing the rest of them a good night. Some of the Dagger Squad murmur something you don't quite hear as you reach the door, pushing it open and stepping out into the cool sea breeze.

He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head, as you help him out to the parking lot. You open the passenger-side door for him and he near-collapses onto the car seat. "Thanks for doing this." He says softly, looking up at you with those sweet, grateful eyes. You watch him fumble with his hands as he tries to buckle himself in.

"Stop being so damn polite." You smile, shutting the door and rounding the hood to get in the driver's seat.

The drive to his is short but pleasant. Well, if it wasn't for the scent of beer slowly sinking into his shirt and your car seat. The windows are rolled down and you can feel the wind on your face. Neither of you talk but it's a nice silence, like the two of you are just content in each other's company. You like it that way. Like you don't have to fill the silence to be comfortable; you can just co-exist.

You like the relationship you have with Bob; it's easy and natural. You just feel...at home with him, like you don't have to pretend to be social or talkative. But there's always that warmth that buzzes just below the surface when he catches your eye or when he smiles. Or when he laughs. Or when he fiddles with his glasses. Or when he does literally anything.

Safe to say, you like him a whole lot; pretty much since you were brought on board for the Dagger Squad.

But you don't want to say anything because what if it makes things weird between you? What if he's not into it and everything just gets awkward? What if you accidentally gush about how gorgeous he looks in his uniform and he thinks you're an absolute creep for admiring the way his shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and the way his pants hug his ass perfectly? He probably already knows and just pretends not to for exactly the same reasons. He probably knows and has also made up his mind that you're not really the one for him. He would've said something by now if he was into you but he hasn't so he probably isn't. It's not something you like thinking about.

Finally, you pull up to his house and park outside. You get out, open his door and stand there, just in case he needs the support again.

"I'm fine. I'm good." He starts to protest before immediately losing his balance and grabbing onto your arm. "Actually..." Rolling your eyes, you hang onto him and close the door.

"C'mon, let's get you inside, mister." He leans against you as you walk up to his house. He's so warm and he smells good, despite the spilt beer. He's wearing that aftershave his mom got him for Christmas again. It's citrusy and sweet but still masculine and fresh. He smells amazing.

When you haul him up the short flight of stairs and reach the front door, he digs his hand into his pocket and struggles to get his keys out for a moment. He must try to insert the key into the lock a good three times, each time stabbing the door just shy of the lock.

"Can't seem to..." He mumbles and you gently place your hand over his, guiding the key into the lock with a satisfying click, turning it and opening the door.

"There we go." You smile warmly and he stares at you for a moment, swallowing hard, before grabbing onto the door frame and stepping inside.

Once inside, you turn the light on and close the door behind you. He kicks off his shoes and pats down his chest. His uniform shirt is still clinging to him, now sticky from the spilt beer. His nose crinkles as you unlace your shoes and place them on the rack.

"Gotta shower..." He slurs softly. By the time you stand up to look at him, he's already halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. Your eyes flick down over the angles of his collarbone and, before you can look further, you avert your eyes.

"Okay, which way's the bathroom?" You ask a little too quickly.

"Upstairs, first door on the left." He points vaguely towards the stairs before continuing to unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off and pulling off his undershirt. He's always so conservative with his clothes; never wearing anything too revealing. Hell, even at the beach, he wears a shirt when the rest of the squad is more than happy to run around half-naked. You look back from the stairs to find him shirtless and it's almost impossible to look away.

God, he's gorgeous, almost to the point where it's at odds with his sweet, boyish smile. Strong shoulders, perfect biceps, broad chest, narrow hips; he could be carved out of granite and you wouldn't even be able to tell the difference— You shake the thought from your head before it can take root.

He tosses his shirt on the floor and yawns. "You don't have to wait for me or anything." He says and you bring yourself back to the present, your eyes flicking back up to his face. You just pray, in his inebriated state, that he didn't just catch you eyeballing his bare chest.

"No, I don't need to go to the bathroom, Bob. I'm taking you up because I don't trust you on the stairs." You tell him and he protests weakly but you help him up anyway.

When you reach the bathroom, he leans against the sink for support and you have to look away as you notice the veins in his arms and hands become more pronounced from the pressure. Maybe that one drink you had was a little stronger than you thought. God, what would those fingers feel like in your mouth? Or in your— "You gonna be okay in the shower?" You ask him and he runs a hand through his hair.

"Mhm. I'm not that drunk." He assures you. "You can go watch TV or something." He reaches down to unbuckle his belt and you pin your gaze to the floor.

"I-I'll stand outside the door just in case, alright?" You manage and he gives you that wonderful, lopsided smile that makes the tips of your fingers tingle.

"Alright." He reaches down for his belt and you almost slam the door shut, stepping back to lean against the opposite wall. You let out a slow exhale. You're heart's going a mile a minute.

Distraction. You need a distraction; something — anything — to get your mind off what it would feel like to have your lips on his or your tongue on his neck or your hands on his chest... Heat pools in the pit of your stomach; a desperate, deep-seated ache. You pull out your phone and start flicking through your socials, trying to find something else to focus on but it's no use.

You hear the shower hiss to life and you can't help but think about what he'd look like if you poked your head in for just a moment; shiny from the water, dripping with soap suds and wreathed in steam. Goddamn... But you couldn't breach his privacy, betray his trust, like that, especially while he's drunk and vulnerable. Even thinking about it feels like a betrayal but you can't get the thought out of your head and the aching between your legs only grows stronger.

Maybe you should've let someone else bring him home.

Eventually, the shower turns off and the bathroom door opens, letting out a cloud of steam as Bob steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist as he uses another to dry his hair. His skin gleams in the low light of the hallway, flushed pink from the hot water, damp hair falling in front of his face. He's being unknowingly, impossibly cruel.

"Better?" You manage, somewhat breathless.

"Yeah. So much better." Thankfully, he doesn't seem capable of noticing your — very obvious — attraction to him right now. He positions his glasses back on the bridge of his nose as you push off the wall and onto your feet, your own knees slightly weak.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed, yeah?"

"You don't have to baby me, Pez. I'm sobering up now." He responds softly but lets you guide him anyway, his hand dwarfing your own. He's still a little unsteady on his feet as you reach his bedroom.

You stand by the door, leaning against the doorframe, looking over his bedroom. There are certificates lining the walls and pictures of him and his parents at birthdays and holidays. It makes your chest feel tight. He walks over to the dresser and pulls open a drawer, rifling through to pick out a pair of loose sweatpants. As he pulls out a pair, the towel comes undone from around his waist and pools on the floor. Your eyes go wide and you jerk your head away but not before getting a perfect view of his round, peachy ass. This is cruel and unusual punishment but you're too weak to complain.

Once he's pulled on the sweatpants and slid into bed, his hair still damp against the pillow, he takes off his glasses, folds them up and places them on the nightstand before looking at you as you linger in the doorway, looking awkward and out-of-place. "C'mon." He mumbles sleepily. "It's late and you're tired too." He weakly pulls back the covers on the other side of the bed; a silent invitation. One you want to jump at. But you can't.

He's drunk and not thinking straight and you don't trust yourself. Not that you'd touch him; never that. But you're devastatingly wet and you already know you need to take care of that and you can't do it next to him. To take your mind off that thought, you grab a glass and fill it with water from the bathroom sink before placing it on the nightstand.

"I'll sleep downstairs. Just yell if you need anything, okay?" You tell him and he nods, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his face.

"Okay... Thanks for taking care of me." A smile curves at your lips as you brush a couple of damp locks out of his face. It brings you some modicum of relief, just that little bit of tender skin-to-skin contact.

"No problem." You sigh longingly, almost ruefully. "Night, Bob." You turn on your heel to leave the room and he catches your wrist with a hand, making you stop in your tracks.

"Hey, could you stay?" He asks, voice small. You turn back to look at him over your shoulder. "Just until I fall asleep?" Your heart melts in your chest as you turn back toward him.

"Sure." You sit on the edge of the bed, holding his hand and brushing your thumb over his knuckles. He looks up at you, eyes lidded with exhaustion. His fingers tighten around yours slightly and you feel your pulse racing.

Finally, his fingers loosen on yours as his eyes drop shut. You let out a soft sigh, releasing his hand and rising from the bed. You watch him for a moment, considering, before leaning down to brush a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep tight, Bobby."

You turn off all the lights and head back downstairs. You set up a little bed for yourself on the couch and slip out of your uniform, laying back against the couch cushions in your t-shirt and underwear.

After a moment, you find your hand drifting down between your thighs, pressing your fingertips against the gusset of your panties. It's absolutely sodden. You sigh in defeat, sling one leg over the back of the sofa and push the gusset of your panties to one side, sliding your fingers inside yourself with a sigh, pressing your thumb to the hood of your clit and working in slow circles. With your free hand, you grab a pillow and press it over your mouth to muffle the soft moans that fall from your lips despite knowing that Bob is probably dead to the world right now.

You finish yourself off quickly; imagining it's his fingers buried inside you, his tongue drawing slow, languid circles around your clit. The only sound is the buzzing of the fridge in the kitchen and the soft whines you try to drown out behind the pillow pressed against your face.

As soon as you're done, you pull your underwear back on properly and collapse onto your side, huddling into the blankets, cheeks flaming with heat. You're a mess for him but he can't know that, even if the rest of the Dagger Squad does.

Finally, the sun rises and you pack up the blankets and pillows you'd used before pulling on your pants from the day before. You yawn and stretch before heading into the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot. Your stomach rumbles. After all, you haven't eaten since before the party last night.

Looking up, you check the clock above the fridge. About 10 am. Not too bad.

While rummaging around for the creamer, you stumble across a carton of eggs and a packet of bacon about to go out of date. Pulling them out, you grab a skillet from a nearby rack and set out to make some breakfast.

Upstairs, Bob rubs the sleep from his eyes and replaces his glasses, the glass of water from the night before thoroughly drained throughout the night. He pulls back the covers, swings his legs over the side and pulls on a t-shirt before heading to the bathroom. When he comes back out, he pads down the stairs, drawn toward the scent of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen.

You hum to yourself as you flip the bacon over, the eggs growing crispy around the edges but the centre staying soft and jammy. You notice Bob leaning against the doorframe out of the corner of your eye, staying quiet as he watches you work. It's domestic, comforting and you find yourself wishing you could do this for him every morning. Finally, you turn to face him and he smiles warmly. Thankfully, he doesn't seem hungover.

"Morning." He says softly, voice a little lower and scratchier from sleep.

"Morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Like a brick." He responds with a small smile, pushing away from the doorframe and walking further into the small kitchen. His voice drops to a more serious tone "Thanks for taking care of me last night. And for making breakfast." He pauses by the counter, looking at you appreciatively. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I know." You reply simply. He pauses before he quickly looks away, grabbing some plates and cutlery from the cupboards and drawers.

"Need any help?" He asks gruffly, setting the plates next to the stove.

"No, I'm nearly finished here." You turn off the heat and plate up the bacon and eggs before setting the empty skillet on the cool side of the stove. "Order up."

You carry the plates over to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Bob digs in eagerly, making appreciative noises between bites. The food is simple but perfect; exactly what he needs after shifting a good amount of alcohol the night prior. You set a couple of mugs down on the table and pour the coffee before sitting down to tuck into your own breakfast, humming in satisfaction.

You eat in relative silence, stealing glances at each other over the rims of your coffee cups and between forkfuls of bacon and eggs. The morning light filtering through the window casts a warm glow over his features. He looks peaceful — content, even — sitting across from you, like this is something you do on the regular. You wish it was regular. You want these quiet mornings with him; sharing coffee in comforting silence, surrounded by the scent of fried eggs, the silence only broken by the soft chirping of birds outside.

"Thanks." He says again. "For everything."

"Really, it's fine." You laugh softly, clearing your plate and setting it to one side with your cutlery. He does the same, leaning back in his chair and taking a long sip of coffee.

"Y'know, you're really good at this." He murmurs, the words half-muffled by his coffee cup. "Taking care of people, I mean."

"I try my best. Especially when I know it's someone who deserves it." You reply easily as if it's just common knowledge. Perhaps you said too much but it's early and the atmosphere is cloying; peaceful and almost romantic as it is. He stares at you for a moment before taking another sip of his coffee and sliding his plate under yours, putting his cutlery on top. "Bobby, you're a really good guy." You say, staring down into your coffee.

"You think so?" He asks and you nod. There's a pause before he clears his throat. "Would you— Can I— Can I tell you something?" You nod again, lifting your gaze to meet his as he mutters something under his breath. "Okay..." He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think you're amazing. And not just because of how you were on the mission or taking care of me last night or making breakfast..." He sets his coffee cup down, hands tapping restlessly on the side of the table. "I just think you're amazing. Just...as a person." You just stare at him for a moment before heat creeps along your cheeks and you smile widely.

"I think you're amazing too." He relaxes slightly, scrubbing a hand along his face, as you get up to take the dishes to the sink. When you cross the kitchen again, he's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"So... Hypothetically..." He starts, not daring to look up at you as he picks at a loose thread on his t-shirt. "If a guy hypothetically really liked you — like really, really liked you — what would he need to do?" You turn around to lean against the table, looking pensive.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "If he wanted to be with you, like, properly. Not just friends or whatever... What would he need to do to make you notice him? To make you...want him?" He asks, voice wavering slightly. There's a flutter in your chest as you stiffen slightly. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Don't fumble this—

"Well, he'd have to be smart and kind and compassionate and have a good sense of humour." You press your lips into a thin line as you think. "He'd have to be...a little awkward and be kind of bad at dancing but great at literally everything else." You pause and he moves forward slightly.

"And...what else?" He asks and you turn your head to look at him. He looks so open and vulnerable but not in the way he was last night. This is open and honest and completely aware. Suddenly, it dawns on you; he wants this just as much as you do.

"He'd have to be a WSO, he'd have to wear the dorkiest glasses I've ever seen in my life and...he'd have to be called Bob Floyd." His breath catches. "And if he wanted me to notice him, to want him, he'd just have to be himself and I'd be all his." He just stares at you owlishly as if he's finally come to the same realisation that you did just a few seconds before. You reach out to brush a couple of stray hairs out of his face. When he doesn't pull away you turn to face him fully before leaning down to press your lips to his in a gentle kiss.

The second you kiss him, he's done. Finished. Over. His heart is completely yours and he never wants it back. Your lips are soft and warm, just like your smile, and he parts his lips slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. You take it; slowly inching your tongue into his mouth and tasting the bitterness of the coffee, moaning softly. God. You can't make that sound. His brain short-circuits. That one small, needy sound from you against his mouth has blood rushing south and he stands up, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

He lifts you onto the dining table and you loop your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Bobby..."

"Shh..." He whispers against your mouth, warm hands roaming your body, touching you like he's dreamed of doing a million times. He pulls back just long enough to take off his glasses and set them aside. Then he's kissing you again, deeper this time. It takes you by surprise. You never thought he could be this...passionate. You always figured, if you ever got this far, you'd be coaxing it out of him, bit by bit, encouraging him with little kisses and your fingers in his hair.

Instead, his hands are firm on your waist, tugging up your shirt just a little to feel the warmth and softness of your skin, as he kisses you like it's all he's ever wanted to do. It steals the breath from your lungs and it has confessions falling from your lips between deep, hungry kisses.

"You don't know...what last night...did to me..." You murmur breathlessly against his mouth and he groans, hands sliding under your shirt.

"Tell me." He's pushing your shirt up further and further, exposing more and more of your body to the golden sunlight gliding in through the open blinds.

"When you took off your shirt and...when you cam out of the shower and... And I saw so much of you... And I wanted all of it..." You manage. He's panting hard and you swear you can hear his heart hammering against his ribs.

"You wanted me?" He asks and you nod, running your hand down the centre of his chest, feeling the quick rise and fall of his breath.

"Mhmm... Once you fell asleep I had to... Had to come downstairs and...take care of myself..." You admit, heat rushing up your neck to spread across your cheeks. He stops for a moment before tugging your shirt off completely and sliding a hand into your hair, kissing you fiercely. You mirror the movement, clinging to him, as you kiss him back with a familiar hunger that roots itself between your legs.

He's losing his mind, control slipping. He steps between your legs, pressing closer, and you can feel him through his sweatpants. He feels perfect; pressing against your thigh desperately. "Bobby..." You move to whisper in his ear. "I need my mouth on you."

"Jesus." It comes out as a soft hiss. "You want to..."

"Please."

You— You don't have to..." He breathes but he's already reaching for the tie of his sweatpants. He wants you to. He wants you to want to.

You push him back gently so you can push off the table, guiding him back into his chair.

"I know I don't have to." You kneel on the worn linoleum between his feet, rubbing your hands along his thighs. He's straining desperately against the front of his sweatpants. "I want to." You tug at the tie of his sweatpants before curling your fingers into the waistband and tugging them down. He lifts his hips and you pull them down and off but, when you sit back to look at him—

Holy Mother of God.

"Wh-What...?" You just stare at him owlishly because, God, if that isn't the biggest cock you've ever seen in your life. Thick, throbbing, leaking... And you thought his body was slightly at odds with the personality of sweet, shy, wallflower Bob Floyd but this? This takes the cake.

"You never told me you had a..." You trail off, reaching up, struggling to wrap your fingers around the girth of the thing. It twitches, precum beading at the slit at even the slightest touch and rolling down the shaft.

"A what?" He asks hoarsely. He looks self-conscious but he has no reason to be. Your mouth waters as you feel him pulsing against your palm.

"Just...big..." Words fail you. His cheeks heat up and he swallows hard.

"You like it?" He asks tentatively and you nod slowly before rising higher on your knees.

"God, yes." No more words. You need to taste him.

You run the flat of your tongue from root to tip and a sharp intake of breath stutters in his throat.

"Ohh, my God..." His hands instinctively grab onto your hair but he doesn't pull, just resting there, as you lick along the underside of his shaft. When you reach the top, you swirl your tongue languidly around the head before taking it into your mouth. "Sh-Shit..." His head falls back against the chair with a soft thud.

He can't believe this is happening. He's jerked off a hundred times to the thought of you doing this but the reality is so much better; you, knelt between his legs, in his kitchen, sucking him off like you were born to do it.

You take more of him into your mouth, tentatively testing how much you can take. He groans lowly at the sensation of your tongue sliding along the underside, watching you with lidded eyes as his thick cock disappears between your lips. You press your head down until you feel the tip touch the back of your throat and you gag slightly before pulling away. You're panting, lips wet with saliva, and just watching you sends a shiver down his spine, toes curling against the lino. "Do that again... Please..." It's almost a beg and you can't deny him or yourself.

You lean back in, sliding down until it hits the back of your throat. Now you know how far you can take him, you cover the rest of his shaft with your hand, easing the slide with more spit as you work him over. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, only to keep him tethered to the moment. He can feel every inch being worshipped by your greedy mouth and talented hands and his hips start to thrust upward involuntarily. "God, just like that..."

You fall into a steady rhythm, peering up at him through your lashes, and you feel another spurt of pre hit your tongue as he meets your gaze, completely mesmerised. It's almost embarrassingly clear how much you love having him in your mouth; his cock hot and thick and pulsing on your tongue. The wet sounds of your mouth and the sight of his cock sliding between your lips are driving him wild and he can feel that familiar feeling deep in his core. He gives your hair a gentle tug. "Hey..." You pull away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Mhm?"

"I'm...getting real close." He warns you, his voice strained with effort. "If you don't want me to...finish in your mouth, you should probably stop now." Still, his hips are flexing, desperately trying to fuck your hand. You take a moment to decide before flicking your tongue over the head and his hands fly to curl around the seat of his chair, nails digging into the wood. "God...! I mean it... I'm...really close..." He gives you one last warning.

"Do it." You tell him, dragging your tongue along the cleft at the underside of the head, still stroking along his shaft, your fingers slick and shining with a mix of precum and saliva.

That's all it takes.

With a deep groan that rumbles from deep in his diaphragm, he cums hard, his hips jerking uncontrollably as his eyes roll. You lean back to watch with satisfaction as thick shots of white spurt from his cock, making your hand slicker as you stroke him through his climax. "That's it, Bobby." You encourage him softly as he unloads onto your hands and his stomach. He's panting heavily, his body shaking, as the last few shots of cum ooze down his shaft. Your gentle praise and the feeling of your spit-slick hand only intensify the pleasure.

When he opens his eyes, he sees your face pressed against his inner thigh as you gently squeeze the base of his cock, gazing up at him adoringly. He runs a shaky hand through your hair, still trying to blink away the white spots dancing in front of his eyes. "That was... Holy shit... I..." You smile and press a kiss to his hipbone, nuzzling his thigh, as he tries to find words in the jumbled mess of his orgasm-addled brain. "You... Bedroom... Yes, bedroom." He manages breathily and you nod, getting up from the floor and letting him tug on his sweatpants again before you eagerly pull him upstairs.

On the way up to his bedroom, you pull off your jeans and underwear before collapsing onto his bed with an excited giggle. Bob quickly joins you; pulling off his shirt and stained sweatpants, his body hovering over yours. You bite your lip, running your hands appreciatively over his body as you sit up slightly to kiss him, finding warm, firm muscle under your palms. He deepens the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue and exploring your mouth hungrily. But, before he can get too lost in the moment, he pulls back, heavy breaths making his chest heave.

"Wait—"

"Mhm...?" He looks sheepish.

"I don't do this often so I— I-I don't really have condoms?" Your heart melts. "Do you still want me to..."

"I still want you to." You glance down to find him already hard again, running a fingertip down his abdomen and watching his cock throb eagerly. "I trust you to pull out." You tell him and he nods quickly.

"I'll pull out." He tells you, kissing you again before leaning back on his toes. "I promise, I'll pull out."

Large hands find your thighs, lifting them until your toes touch the headboard, essentially folding you in half and leaving you completely exposed to him. "God, you're so perfect..." He whispers under his breath, holding you in place as he lines himself up, his cock sliding deliciously against your aching, swollen pussy. "Look at me. Look at me." He urges and you lay your head back against the pillows as he slowly pushes in. He feels absolutely massive but it's not painful; just this pleasant, warm ache that seeps through your body as you stretch around him. You grab onto his biceps for support as his fingers wrap around your ankles, holding your legs up. You're so tight around him, it's almost unbearable. He can feel every swell and curve of your inner walls squeezing around him. Your brows knit as he sinks in deeper, your fingers squeezing his arms.

"B-Bobby!"

"God, it's so good..." His eyes drift shut as he tosses his head back, starting to move slowly, deliberately rocking his hips against yours. The position is just perfect; hitting all the right spots all at once with every deep, purposeful stroke.

Strong fingers dig into your ankles as he slowly starts to pick up the pace. "You like this?" He asks, sweat beading on his brow as he looks down at you. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a breathless whine. "Fuck, you're so tight..." He huffs through his nose as he targets that sweet spot inside you over and over, drawing these adorable, breathy whimpers from you. Your back arches, hands moving to claw at his broad shoulders.

"Please... Feel good... Feels so fucking good..." You pant out and he nods, his hips snapping forward. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he pounds into you, rutting against you desperately.

"I... I didn't know you'd be into..." He murmurs.

"Wh-What...?" "I didn't know you'd...like my... My dick so much..." He leans down, spreading your legs a little wider, as he kisses along your neck. His skin is warm and damp with sweat as he presses against you., his breath hot on your skin. You grin lopsidedly as tears of pleasure prick the corners of your eyes.

"I-I like them big..." You manage and that draws a low, near-animalistic sound from him as he drives into you with renewed vigour. The headboard bangs against the wall with each thrust.

"You like them big..." He repeats and you nod, whining as he hammers your sweet spot with pinpoint accuracy.

"Mmhmmm... I didn't...think you'd be so...big... O-Ohhh... It's so fucking good, Bobby..." You manage and he wraps your legs around his waist, coiling his arms under the small of your back, hugging you against him. His thrusts turn shallow but stay deep, your bodies pushed together from shoulder to hip. You hook your arms over his shoulders, nails raking red lines up his back.

Who would've thought that Bob Floyd — sweet, kind, nerdy, adorable Bobby Floyd — would fuck like an animal? You never expected it but, Christ, does it feel right.

You nuzzle his hair, breathing in the scent of him; yesterday's aftershave lingering on his skin, sweat breaking out all across his body. "Love having you like this..." You murmur in his ear and he nods.

"Mhmm... I love it too..." His thrusts grow slower but no less deep; each movement designed to draw out the pleasure, make it last. He stretches you out and fills you up perfectly, holding you through all of it, eagerly soaking up every moan, plea and whimper you give him. He's rubbing up against the deepest part of you now, the crown of his cock sliding perfectly against the swell of your cervix.

"B-Bobby... You can't...cum inside... You'll...knock me up..." You remind him and his arms tighten around you but he doesn't stop.

"I know... I'll pull out, promise..." But, even as he says it, he feels the heat mounting and he desperately wants to finish inside you. His hips keep rolling against yours in a deep, steady rhythm. You drag your nails across his shoulder blades, your body clenching down around him, throbbing around him rhythmically because, deep down, you'd love if he could cum inside you, leave his mark. But you can't take that risk.

He gives you a few more slow deep thrusts before pulling back to look at you. His hair is plastered to his forehead, face flushed. "Gonna pull out now, okay?" He pants out and you nod as he pulls out just in time, sandwiching his cock into the crook of your thigh and grinding against it until he cums, decorating your body with slick, white ribbons that ooze across your skin. You run your fingers through his hair as his orgasm hits, his arms clenching around you, hanging onto you for dear life.

Finally, his body goes slack. He's panting heavily, tilting his head up to claim your lips again in a soft, slow, lazy kiss. He rolls over onto his back, pulling you with him so you're lying on top of him. He's still semi-hard against your thigh but he's given you all he can for now so you sit up and sink back down onto him before curling up on top of him, enjoying the feeling of having his huge, softening cock nestled inside you. He lets out a low groan, gathering you up in his arms, fingers drawing idle patterns along the small of your back. "Gonna keep it in?" He asks softly and you look up at him.

"Is that okay?"

"More than okay." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "Makes me feel close to you... Comfortable?" You nod and rub your nose against his.

"Mhm. You?"

"Perfect."

A soft silence settles over the room, almost jarring after the slamming and slapping and moaning from just a few moments ago. But you aren't complaining.

You card your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it away from his face.

"You wanna talk about what just happened?" You laugh softly before sobering. "And where we go from here?"

"Mhm." He hums thoughtfully. "You mean like the 'was this a one-time thing' talk? Or the 'do you regret it' talk?" His thumbs rub the small of your back soothingly.

"Both." He takes a breath and you feel his chest rise beneath you.

"It wasn't just a one-time thing for me." He says softly, his eyes searching yours. "I don't do this kind of thing lightly, y'know? I wanted you and I still want you. But, if you're not on the same page, that okay too. We can still just be...friends, if you want." God, he's too sweet for his own good sometimes.

"And you don't regret it?"

"God, no." He answers, arms tightening around you possessively. "Best sex of my life. No regrets here." He lifts a hand to play with your hair nervously. "Can I be honest?" You nod and he sighs heavily. "I think about you a lot. More than I should. Like you're in my head, under my skin. And I... I want to do this again. With you. Only you." He swallows hard, finally meeting your eyes again. "So where does that leave us?"

"Like friends with benefits or...?" You trail off and he makes a noncommittal sound.

"I mean, we could do that." He says slowly. "But, if I'm being completely honest, I don't want it to be just that? Friends with benefits implies casual and what we just did? It didn't feel casual to me." You cup his face and run your thumb along his cheekbone. "I like you. A lot." He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. "But if that scares you off, I understand." Without a word, you lean forward, licking your way into his mouth, kissing him slow and lazy. When you break apart, you're both breathless.

"Honey, I've been wanting to ask you out for months. I just didn't know where to start." You admit and his eyes widen.

"Really?" A huge grin spreads across his face. "Why didn't you?" He laughs softly, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. You find yourself laughing with him.

"According to the rest of the squad, I've been dropping hints left, right and centre and not even subtle ones at that!"

"In my defence, I thought you were just being friendly." He replies and you laugh softly against his lips. "So... Can we date? Please say yes."

"I'd like that a lot."

"Thank God." His arms squeeze tight around you. "Should I take you out properly sometime? Coffee, dinner, all that stuff?" He traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

"It'd be nice, yeah." You reply and he gives you that sweet, beaming, boyish grin.

"Then it's a date. How about tomorrow night? We can grab some dinner and maybe catch a movie if you're up for it?" You nod and ruffle his hair lightly.

"That sounds perfect. But first..." You roll your hips against his, a gentle reminder that he's been inside you for the better half of ten minutes. "Can we do that again?" He wets his lips and rolls you back over onto your back, leaning down to press kisses to your neck.

"Mhm. As many times as you want."

Bob's call sign may be just 'Bob' but, in your head, it's 'Tripod'. Sweet, shy Bobby 'Tripod' Floyd.

TAGLIST: @ingoldthewizard @judeval @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @starwarskawaii

[lambiconic]

a coffee shop confrontation

in case you haven't.. you should read the first four!: simon , gaz , johnny , price , the aftermath

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The sun is low, casting warm golden light through the front windows as the café finally begins to slow down. Just a handful of customers,thirty minutes left until closing, and you behind the counter, wiping down surfaces and counting the minutes.

You haven’t seen any of your usuals today. No familiar grins, no cheeky orders or even Simon’s hard stare and silence. It’s been...quiet. Oddly so. Almost…suspiciously so.

You tried to shake off the feeling as you continued to clean behind the register. Your back to the door as you hear the bell above it chime. Once. Twice. Then a third time. And finally a fourth.

“Welcome! Give me just a second!” You call out to the customers, forcing a smile on your face. At least four people 10 minutes til closing? What ASSHOLES, do people even think to check when stores close before coming?

You stand up straight, wiping your hands on your pants as you lift your gaze and freeze.

Johnny, Gaz, Simon, and Price. All four at the same time, honestly it would feel like Christmas if they weren’t staring at you like this was an intervention. 

You blink, offering a cautious smile as you look between the men. “Uh… hi? The..usual..s?”

Johnny was the first to step forward, another bouquet of fresh flowers in hand. Despite the other three men reminding him what this trip was for he insisted he couldn’t arrive empty handed! (Definitely not so that if you feel you have to make a decision you’d pick him.)

“Hey, bonnie,” he starts, voice unusually tight. “Got a minute?”

You could feel knots in your stomach as you offered a small nod. Clearly, you’re in trouble. “...Sure?”

The men exchange looks before approaching the counter together, like they’d rehearsed this in the parking lot. Gaz clears his throat.  “Okay, so just going to get straight to it. We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“A situation,” you repeat, crossing your arms.

“A situation.” The men parrot. 

Price folded his arms behind him, watching like this was some kind of disciplinary hearing. “It’s  come to our attention,” he said carefully, “that you’ve been... spreading the charm around.”

“Spreading..the charm.” You say carefully, fighting the urge to grin. 

Johnny leaned forward on the counter, eyes narrowed in playful accusation. “Ye been flirting, lass. With all of us.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, arms folded. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You’ve got us wrapped around your little apron string.”

They keep at it. Questions, teasing accusations, pointed smirks that blur the line between confrontation and flirtation. Simon’s practically hanging off the counter, demanding to know which wink meant something. Gaz is staring into the cup of tea you offered him, grinning because you remembered what he likes. Johnny won’t stop holding those flowers in your line of sight. And somehow, Price has taken it upon himself to help you stack chairs like he’s the assistant manager now.

And as you flip the “CLOSED” sign and start dimming the lights, one thought keeps circling in your head:

What exactly did you do wrong?

Because the reality of the situation is: you didn’t chase any of them. They came to you. One after the other. Different days. Different energy. You flirted, sure, but you flirt with half the customers that walk in!! It's called good service. You didn’t give them keys to your apartment. You didn’t propose via a note on a cup!!!

Your brows furrow as you wipe down the last table, side-eyeing them still hovering. 

Four separate men. All of them DEATHLY attractive in entirely different, annoyingly effective ways. None of them bothered to mention they were friends, coworkers, whatever the hell they are!!! In fact, it seems to you that they didn't even know they were all regulars here! And now you’re the one being interrogated like a war criminal?

You pause mid-wipe.

“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” you say aloud, mostly to yourself.

Gaz glances up from where he’s fiddling with a sugar packet. “Sorry, what was that?”

You place the rag down and turn to them, arms crossing. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Y'all are coming at me like I led a coordinated mission to seduce you all.”

Gaz opens his mouth. Closes it. Then says, “I mean... you did kind of—”

“I flirted.” You quickly interrupt, “Like a normal person! With guys who displayed interest in me FIRST.”

Johnny holds up a finger. “But ye flirted with us. Like, all of us.”

“And how was I supposed to know you were a.. group? Unit? A gaggle?” you snap, gesturing at them. “What are you, some kind of... handsome avengers?”

Simon lets out the quietest snort you've ever heard, quickly turning around to fake a cough.

Price clears his throat. “141, actually.”

Your eyes narrow. “Is that your fantasy football team or a boy band?”

“Its an elite ta—” Price quickly cuts Johnny off with a glare and an elbow. “We’re...we work together. Military.”

That information does absolutely nothing to help your case. But it does make a few things click. Obviously, you can do no wrong! But, if you and your co workers were all interested in the same guy you’d feel similarly.

Maybe not gang up on him at his job similarly but details details!

You purse your lips, pausing as you think. “So what now? You gonna make me pick?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Gaz, leaning against the counter like this is his moment, smirks. “Only fair.”

Johnny raises the flowers slightly. “I did bring gifts.”

Price just lifts an eyebrow, as if daring you to make him wait longer. Simon stays silent…but that stare? It speaks volumes.

You shake your head, grabbing your keys and moving towards the lockers. “Oh, I’m not playing this game.”

Gaz calls after you, laughing, “You started this game!”

You shout back, “I just make coffee!”

The men stood in a loose formation near the counter, all eyes fixed on the door you disappeared behind. From the back, your muffled voice could be heard muttering curses…something about you’re just a girl and men should worship the ground you walk on?

They were silent for a long beat.

Then Gaz broke it. “We could share.”

“Come again?” “Sorry, what now?” “Mate, did you hit your head?”

Gaz shrugged, completely serious. “I mean…we could share. Or at least give her a chance to decide. Dates, time, whatever she needs.”

Johnny looked down at the bouquet, fingers tightening around the stems. “Not like this is the first time we've had... overlap.”

“And I don’t think any of us are exactly eager to back off,” Gaz added.

Simon said nothing, but the way his jaw flexed said plenty. Price met Simon’s eyes. Silent, knowing. A familiar, unspoken agreement passed between them. “We share.”

Gaz grinned. “Glad we’re all being reasonable.”

Johnny shook his head, muttering, “This is gonna get complicated.”

SImon finally spoke. “She’s worth it.”

Silence settled again as they listened to something crash in the back room. Probably a stack of coffee filters.. Were you always this much of a firecracker?

Johnny exhaled. “Gonna have to explain this real carefully.”

“Yeah,” Gaz said, nodding. “But not tonight..”

[sluttywonwoo]

bad influence(s): jeonghan | the bartender

pairing: bartender!fwb!jeonghan x f reader

summary: he's the only reason you ever come to this place

warnings: swearing, alcohol, toxic-ish relationship dynamic, sprinkle of jealousy, lil bit of angst oops?, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: semi-public sex, drunk sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, spitting in mouth, choking, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 3k

“Bunny, wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

You make a face. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“I didn’t think you were serious,” Jeonghan murmurs. “You seemed to like it when I was making you cu-”

If the club wasn’t so crowded you’d grab him by the collar and slam his head on the bar. But since that isn’t an option you settle for threatening to leave. 

“Wait, you just got here! You haven’t even let me make you a drink yet.” 

“Who says I’m here for a drink?”

He smirks. “Oh, I know what you’re here for.” 

“Not here for that either.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “Why, then? Don’t tell me it’s to break things off because the last time you tried to do that you ended up in my bed with your ankles on my shoulders. Besides, if you really wanted to end it you could’ve just texted me.” 

“What is there to end?” you mutter. 

“You wound me.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

He rests his elbows on the countertop and leans across it, lowering his voice. “You know I do, but I’m closing tonight and last call isn’t for another forty minutes.”

You groan. “What am I doing here then?”

“If you had given me a heads-up I would’ve told you to come by later! Or tried to give my shift to someone else.”

You sigh and turn your back to him, surveying the rest of the crowd gathered on the dance floor. 

“Forty minutes isn’t even that long,” he whispers, “and you came all this way. I’ll take care of you as soon as I’m done. Can’t you be patient?”

“I’m not leaving,” you assure him. “I’m looking for a distraction.”

“A distraction?” You assume, based on the sound of dread that he makes, that he follows your gaze to the bachelor party doing shots at the other end of the bar. “What, you’re going to make me watch you grind on some other guy?”

“No one says you have to watch.”

“I’ll have a bouncer kick him out.”

“I haven’t even picked one yet.”

“I’ll get them all kicked out. Ruin their fucking night, I don’t care.”

You spin around to face him again. “It’s not like I’m going to fuck any of them!”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightens.  

“Unless you take too long….”

“Would it kill you to stay put for half an hour?”

“And be forced to listen to you flirt with the other customers?” 

The smirk returns. Confidence, or arrogance rather, weaves its way back through his posture now that he knows the real reason you’re looking elsewhere. “It’s only for tips. You’re the only one who gets a tip back.”

“Pure poetry,” you deadpan. 

“Just, let me make you a drink,” he pleads, still apprehensively eyeing the same group of men. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Fine,” you huff. 

“Great, what do you want?”

“Mmmm, I’ll do a lemon drop.”

“Do you want it as a shot or a cocktail?”

You take a moment to consider it. “Can I have the shot version in a cocktail glass? But for the price of the shot version.”

“Like I charge you for any of these anyway,” he scoffs. “Giant lemon drop shot coming up.”

You take a seat on one of the bar stools, finally settling in as he starts to prepare your drink. The bar is naturally sectioned off by support beams that run from the ceiling to the floor which gives each bartender their own section to tend to during a regular shift. But you know that since Jeonghan’s the one closing, his coworkers will be clocking out soon, leaving him in charge of the whole bar by himself. 

Luckily, the night has started to wind down by the time his colleagues leave. There are still plenty of people to serve but it isn’t anywhere near as crazy as it is at peak rush. 

He closes everyone’s tabs before circling back to you, bidding his coworkers good night as they clock out. 

“I’m glad you liked your drink,” he hums, collecting the empty glass from in front of you to wash and add back to the rack that hangs above the bar. 

He goes through the motions of his closing routine while the rest of the employees in the other sections of the club do the same. He purposely drags it out, taking his time so that you’re the last two left in the place. 

“Yoon, you good, man?” one of the bouncers calls as he makes for the door. 

“Yeah, I’m almost done. I’ll lock up, don’t worry.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See ya,” Jeonghan echos back, giving his friend a mock salute as he leaves. 

You’re a little surprised no one said anything about you staying behind but you assume they’ve seen you here so many times they know you’re waiting for Jeonghan, who they’re all a little too intimidated by to question. 

“Finally alone,” he sighs, leaning closer to you. “Come here, bunny.”

You let the nickname slide now that no one’s around to hear it. “Where, behind the bar?” 

“Mm, better yet, why don’t you hop up on the bar. Just crawl over to me.” 

You check your surroundings even though the place is empty and hoist yourself up onto the counter. It isn’t wide enough to necessarily crawl over so you just swing your legs over the other side, parting your knees so that Jeonghan can slot himself between them. 

He does exactly that, placing his hands on either of your thighs. 

“Thank you for being patient,” he murmurs, tilting his head upwards for a kiss. 

“I knew you’d make it worth my time,” you hum back, pressing your lips briefly to his. 

Apparently too brief for Jeonghan because he chases your lips when you pull away, pouting when you don’t give in. 

“Ah, is now when I start making it up to you?” he asks softly.

“Mhm.”

He keeps his hands on your thighs, using them to brace himself as he kneels before you. 

“What, here?” you hiss, suddenly rethinking the whole thing. “On the bar?”

“It’s clean,” he assures you. “You just saw me wipe it down.”

“It won’t be after this.”

“It’s a nightclub, babe. Sterility isn’t typically people’s number one concern here. Regardless, I’m obviously going to re-sanitize it when I’m done with you.”

“When you’re done with me?” you challenge. 

“Yeah. When I’m done with you. Got a problem with that?”

“Who says you’re the one that gets to decide that?”

“I do. Because you usually tap out after two rounds.”

“I-” 

“Are you going to let me eat you out or am I going to spend all night on my knees arguing with you?”

You shrug. “Both are hot.”

He sighs. “Lift up your skirt.”

You do as you’re told and wiggle out of your panties too. He reaches out for them and you’re confused but hand them over anyway, only for him to slip them into his pocket. Perv.

You’re used to Jeonghan taking his time with you, teasing you, making you wait for it. But you figure he knows he’s tortured you enough already tonight because he goes right for it. 

“Wait-” you say, yanking him by the hair when his mouth is only inches from your pussy to get his attention. 

“What, what’s wrong?”

You point at the ceiling. “The security cameras. Won’t they...” you trail off.

“We’re in a blind spot,” he mutters, grimacing at the grip you have on his hair. 

“Oh.”

“If you’re worried about it, I can get one of my bouncer friends to erase the tapes from tonight.”

“No, it should be okay, right?”

He nods. “They can’t see anything behind his beam.”

You relax a little, letting him spread your legs again. “Filing that away for when I come back to rob this place.”

Jeonghan gasps. “You would exploit the information I told you in confidence for monetary gain? Has this been your plan the whole time?”

“It’s called a ‘long con’ for a reason, baby.”

“You know what else is long?”

“Alright, enough talking.”

You use the hold you still have on his hair to guide him back in between your legs before he can get to the punchline. He doesn’t resist, obediently following your direction until he’s close enough to lick you. Before he does, though, he rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh and inhales deeply through his nose like he’s trying to breathe you in. You’d likely be mortified in any other circumstance but right now you’re too horny and too tipsy to care. 

“God, you’re wet,” he mumbles. “Alcohol really does go straight to your pussy, doesn’t it?”

You whine, embarrassed. You don’t have a snarky remark this time. 

“I guess we’re lucky I’m a bartender,” he adds.

Then, without wasting any more time, he finally puts his mouth to you. You knew it was coming but your breath still hitches when you feel his warm tongue against you. He finds your clit almost instantly, which shouldn’t annoy you but somehow does. You’ve slept with him too many times, allowed him to get too familiar with your body. You’re already in deeper than you probably should be. 

The irritation ebbs as the pleasure becomes impossible to ignore. Jeonghan leverages every advantage he has against you to get you to the edge. 

You try to hold out but he’s too goddamn good. And to make things even worse, he stops to ask, “Want my fingers or my tongue inside?”

You’re more than a little too gone to answer so he chooses for you, opting for two fingers while he continues to lave his tongue over your clit. 

“Taste so good, baby,” he moans. “Gonna cum?”

“Y-yes!”

“I don’t think so.” He pulls away at the last minute, leaving you jaw-dropped and panting. 

“What the fuck?!”

He shrugs, getting back to his feet as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“What happened to making it up to me?” you demand. 

“That’s for not texting me back.”

You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms over your chest. There’s no way you look even the least bit intimidating with your bare pussy out and your legs dangling off the counter but you’re too pissed to think about optics right now. 

“You think you can ignore my messages, decline my calls, and then just show up unannounced whenever you decide you want to get laid? And show up to my job of all places?”

Well, when he puts it that way...

 “I mean, you can,” he admits, half-laughing. “But I’m going to be a little mean about it. Don’t make that face at me, I’m still going to make you cum. It’s just going to be on my cock.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He brushes off your question. “Do me a favor, reach over there and grab that bottle of vodka for me.” You make a different, more concerned face at him. “What? I just wanted to do a shot together.”

“Last time you said something like that my whole torso was sticky with tequila for the rest of the night.”

“Can you blame a guy for wanting to do a body shot from between your tits?”

“Yeah, I can.”

He clicks his tongue. “Just hand me the bottle.”

Against your better judgement, you grab the Tito’s and pass it to him, watching in mild surprise as he pours it directly into his mouth. He gestures for you to lean closer so you do, letting him gently wrap a hand around your throat so that he can hold you steady when he spits the vodka into your mouth. 

You choke a little as you swallow, making it burn even more on the way down. 

Your throat feels raw, your lips swollen, neither of which is helped by Jeonghan kissing you after taking a shot of his own. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, further exacerbating the sting of the vodka. 

The heat spreads from your lips outward, engulfing you whole.

“Lay on your back,” Jeonghan whispers into your mouth.

He releases you so that you can, hopping up onto the bar with you a moment later. You’re not sure when he took his pants off but everything’s starting to get pretty hazy at this point.

“Are you still ok with no condom?” Jeonghan asks, unzipping the side of your skirt so that he can pull it off. 

“Yeah, I haven’t been with anyone else since...”

“Me either.”

He encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist as he positions himself on top of you and teases you with the head of his cock. 

“Hannie,” you whine and arch your back to try and force him deeper inside you. He pulls back, though, intent on being the one in control.  

“What is it, baby?”

“Need more.”

“Need more of what?”

“Of you.”

He gives you another inch or so, grinning at the way you squirm in frustration underneath him. “Like that?”

“You know that isn’t what I meant!”

“No?” He draws back. 

“Jeonghan!” 

He laughs. “What happened to Hannie? I like Hannie better.”

“I’ll call you Hannie again if you fuck me.”

“Deal,” he agrees, going as far as to offer you his hand to shake on it before finally bottoming out. 

“It can never be easy with you,” you mutter under your breath. 

“I could say the same for you,” he shoots back. 

He lays there on top of you for a few moments, kissing your neck while allowing you to adjust to the size of him. You’re honestly surprised he’s as hard as he is. You know that eating pussy turns him on but you usually help warm him up too. The building anticipation must have been enough for him tonight. The throbbing of his cock inside you confirms that. 

“Can I move now?” he asks.

“Yes. Please. Please, Hannie...”

“Fuck.”

He looks so pretty on top of you. His hair is still all mussed from when you were tugging it and now his bangs are falling in his eyes, curling up at the ends from perspiration. His face is screwed up in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he pants and groans about how good you feel around him.

You wish the lighting wasn’t so dim in here so that you could see him better, take him in better. It’s a sight you’ve seen dozens of times but one that never gets old. You wish it would. 

It usually takes more than just penetration to get you to the edge but you’re still so sensitive from almost cumming on his tongue that you’re on the edge again before you’ve even really gotten started. 

“Je-Hannie, I’m close.”

“Already? Hold it a little longer for me, baby.”

“I can’t!”

You cum with a cry of his name, locking your ankles behind his back to hold him as close to you as you can while the waves of ecstasy roll over you. He tries his best to fuck you through it despite his now-limited range of motion, settling for winding a hand between your bodies so that he can play with your clit to get you to cum even harder.  

When you come down and your body finally relaxes again, Jeonghan takes it as a sign to keep going-- albeit gentler this time.

“You okay? It’s not too much, right?”

“Yeah, you can keep going,” you sigh, your arms and legs feel like jelly now but you still try to hold on to him. “Want you to cum too.”

“Aw, my bunny’s so sweet,” he hums.

“Don’t call me thaaat!”

“Shut up, you like it. I felt you tighten around me when I said it.”

“It was a clench of annoyance.” 

“Whatever you say...”

“Are you close yet?” you grumble.

“Why? Am I boring you?”

You fake a yawn. His jaw tenses. 

“You know what, I’m going to hold off as long as possible just to- fuck.”

You feel his hips stutter as you pulse around his cock on purpose this time, trying to coax him off the edge. He puts up a good fight but is only able to resist for so long.

“Shit, I’m gonna- where do you want me to-”

You lock your ankles again, effectively answering his unfinished question. A familiar sensation of warmth, not unlike that of the alcohol earlier, fills you as his cock twitches and spurts cum inside of you. It’s almost enough to make you cum again but you feel a lot more sober than you did thirty seconds ago and reality is catching up to you fast. 

Still, you stroke Jeonghan’s back as he catches his breath like he always does for you. He seems to appreciate it and kisses you on the cheek when he gathers enough strength to push himself off of you and hop down.

“I demand a rematch,” is the first thing he says. “But not here. I think we’ve made enough of a mess on this bar.”

“I can’t believe we did that,” you add as you slip back into your skirt. 

He buttons his jeans and then hands you your panties from his pocket. “I’m glad we did.”

“Me too.”

“The only problem is that now whenever I’m working this will be all I’m able to think about the whole shift.” 

“That’s a bad thing?” you ask.

“I mean, I’d rather not be hard for hours at a time.”

You laugh. “Well, if you ever need help with that you have my number.”

“But will you actually answer?”

“I- I will, I promise.” You cross your heart for good measure. 

You can’t tell if he believes you or not. He changes the subject before you’re able to read him. 

“Alight, I’ll clean up here and then get you home to clean you up. You’ll stay the night, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t drive after drinking. Thanks.”Jeonghan looks like he wants to say something, maybe ask if that really is the only reason you’re agreeing to stay over, but he doesn’t. It’s the only reason either of you needs.

i swear i picked a lemon drop before the ateez comeback dropped smh- but lmk what you think! i always appreciate feedback!!

[itoshiabi]

Stain

Summary: You, a clumsy tourist, spill coffee on a stranger—only to learn he's Sae Itoshi. What starts as an accident, leaves behind more than a stain… something neither of you can wash off.

The café is quiet — just the way he likes it.

Sae Itoshi sits at a window booth, scrolling through match footage with one hand and sipping tea with the other. No one has bothered him yet.

That changes in less than ten seconds.

"Oh my god—!"

A crash. A splash of heat.

He flinches, just barely, as coffee spills across his chest, soaking the front of his crisp, white shirt. His brows knit together the moment it hits — not in pain, but in the immediate, simmering annoyance of someone whose day just got very complicated.

You're in front of him, horrified. Tourist. Definitely. The English is a dead giveaway.

"Shit, I didn't see you and I tripped!!!! I am so—oh god—lo siento, I mean—wait, ¿está mojado tu… camisa?"

You're fumbling napkins from the counter and trying to pat the stain off his chest before he can even speak.

He grabs your wrist — not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you.

"Don't," he says flatly, in English.

You freeze.

Your heart is hammering. His voice is sharp, smooth, and cold — and his eyes? Piercing. Pale teal and unreadable.

'I—I was just trying to clean it—"

"You're making it worse."

You pull your hand back like you touched something electric. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there. I was just walking, and I tripped, and—"

Sae looks you over for half a second. There's a splatter of your own drink on your sleeve. Passport poking out of your tote. Sweat at your brow. Your Spanish? Atrocious.

He already knows you have no idea who he is.

Good.

He lets out a quiet exhale and picks up a napkin himself, dabbing once at the soaked fabric.

"Is it ruined?" you ask hesitantly.

He doesn't answer right away.

You shift awkwardly, then blurt out, "How much was it?"

He finally looks at you again, mildly surprised by how direct the question was. He narrows his eyes slightly.

"You want to know how much the shirt costs?"

"I should pay you back, right?" you say, already fishing your credit card from your wallet. "So, just—name it."

A pause. Then-

"€580."

You go still.

Your jaw tugs open slightly. You blink. Then you press your lips together like you're trying very hard to stay composed.

"Right," you say. "Okay. That's… more than my flight here. But sure. Cool. Normal."

Your hand trembles slightly as you hold the card up.

He doesn't take it.

You glance at him. "What, you think I'm joking? I said I'd pay. I'm not a scammer."

He stares at you, that same distant expression on his face — but there's something else now, something subtle. Something intrigued.

"I don't need your money."

"You sure? Pretty sure I just committed fashion manslaughter."

"You think that shirt is fashion?"

You blink. "It was...... white? And expensive?"

Sae huffs once. Barely a laugh. More like air.

You sigh. "Listen, man, I really didn't mean to ruin your mood. Or your… shirt budget."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he shifts slightly in his seat and says, "Sit down."

You blink. "What?"

"You're still standing. It's annoying."

"You're serious?"

He just stares.

You hesitantly sit across from him, trying not to touch anything else. You expect the silence to be suffocating — but strangely, it isn't. He sips what's left of his tea like nothing happened.

Then your eyes catch something over his shoulder.

A man with a camera phone. Snapping a picture. And another.

Of him.

Of you with him.

You stiffen. "Hey… someone's taking pictures."

"I know," he says, not even turning.

You blink. "You know?"

"They usually do."

That gives you pause.

"Are you famous or something?"

Sae finally looks at you again, impassive. Then shrugs once. "Something like that."

You squint. "Wait. Are you in politics?"

He actually chokes on his tea a little.

You sit back, suspicious. "Or a Spanish pop star?"

"I'm not Spanish."

"Then what the hell are you?"

He stares at you, long and hard. You feel like you should shrink under that gaze — but strangely, you don't.

Finally, he says:

"I'm a footballer."

"Oh."

You blink again.

"So, like. For a club or something?"

He doesn't answer. His jaw twitches. You figure you've probably insulted his job.

You rub your forehead, flustered. "Okay, so you're mysterious and intimidating and apparently worth photographing. Great. I'm gonna be on someone's blog titled 'Foreigner girl ruins local athlete's entire fit.'"

"I'm not local either."

''…Are you just trying to be difficult now?"

He doesn't reply. You groan softly and lean back.

And yet… he still hasn't told you to leave.

Outside, Madrid wakes up slowly.

Inside, he watches you like a puzzle that he wasn't expecting to want to solve.

You, the first person in a long time who didn't flinch when he got cold.

Didn't pretend to like him just for his name.

Just a tourist.

Clumsy. Honest.

Annoying — but real.

He glances at his ruined shirt again, then back to you.

"You owe me a coffee," he says.

You blink.

"Wait. Seriously?"

"I didn't stutter.'

You huff. "Fine. One coffee. But I get to pick the table this time."

"Anywhere without you holding a drink is fine."

"Rude."

Sae doesn't smile.

But he also doesn't look away.

[demie90s]

Reader is a cheerleader at UConn and Nika’s been giving her attitude for weeks—except it’s not hate, it’s jealousy. After a game where reader’s talking to someone else, Nika corners her behind the arena and finally breaks. “You wanna keep playing with me, or you wanna admit you’re mine?”

You Knew

Nika Muhl x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: You’re UConn’s star cheerleader. Nika Mühl swears she can’t stand you, but her recent attitude tells a different story.

Word Count~ 0.8k

Genre: Jealousy, Flirtation, Confession

Warnings: Cursing, light possessiveness, tension

After a long-ass win, I’m still sweating under these damn stadium lights, half-wiped glitter on my cheek and pom-poms tucked in my tote, when I see her again. Nika Mühl, brooding across the court. Brown hair pulled back, jersey clinging to her frame, brows knit. She’s been like this for weeks. No words. No waves. Just that sharp-ass glare from across campus like I keyed her car or stole her last protein bar.

I should care. But I don’t. Not when I’ve seen her smile before—twice, tops—and it made my chest feel like it short-circuited.

So yeah. I don’t feed into it.

Instead, after the game, I’m posted near the back exit of the arena, talking to an old friend. A girl from high school, all dimples and good energy. Nothing serious—just catching up, laughing, reminiscing. And I feel it before I see her.

That stare.

The kind of stare that’s not just cold—it’s hot. Angry, tight-jawed heat that travels up your spine. I glance over my friend’s shoulder and sure enough: Nika. Leaned back against a wall like she owns concrete, arms crossed, mouth tight. She doesn’t wave. Doesn’t blink. Just watches.

We finish talking. My friend hugs me, walks away. I barely make it two steps before Nika grabs my arm and pulls me into the shadowed hallway behind the arena. It’s dim. Quiet. Heavy with something unsaid.

“Something on your mind?” I ask, yanking my arm free.

Her accent comes out low and fast, clenched like her jaw. “You wanna keep playing with me, or you wanna admit you’re mine?”

I blink, slow.

“Oh?” I lean against the wall like I’m bored. “I didn’t know you could speak. I thought you were all glares and sulking.”

Nika moves in closer. I can smell the sweat and lavender on her skin. Her hand plants beside my head, trapping me, tall and close and pissed off.

“I glare,” she murmurs, voice tighter than usual, “because every time I see you smile at someone else, I think about making you cry on me instead.”

I bite back a grin. “Jealousy looks real good on you.”

“You think this is a joke?”

“No.” I trail my fingers down the collar of my cheer uniform, slow. “I think you’ve been waiting weeks to say something. You finally done staring or…?”

She exhales sharp through her nose, and her gaze drops to my mouth.

“I hate you,” she whispers.

I smile wider. “No you don’t.”

Her mouth crashes into mine so hard my back thuds against the wall. And just like that, the glares start to make sense.

I gasp against it, but she doesn’t give me space to recover. She’s on me. Pressed so close it’s like she’s trying to crawl inside my skin. Her hand slides down to my waist, fingers tightening, gripping like she’s staking her claim.

And then that other hand—God—tangles in the back of my hair, slow and deliberate. She tilts my head how she wants it, like she’s kissing me for both of us. Not soft. Not sweet. But hungry. Like she’s been holding back since the first time I smiled at someone else and didn’t even know she was watching.

Her grip shifts—hand sliding from the back of my head to my jaw, her thumb dragging across my bottom lip like she’s testing me. Then she grips my chin and angles me up. Our mouths clash again, harder. Messier. Tongue slipping out like she can’t be patient anymore. It’s not cute. It’s not neat. It’s just need.

Sloppy. Deep. She licks into me like she’s starving, like she’s been mad for so long she doesn’t remember how to do anything else but devour me.

And I let her. Hell, I melt.

She moans—quiet but rough—into my mouth when I grab her jersey and pull her closer like I want this fight. My back hits the wall again from the force of her hips pressing forward. She’s fully in control now, and I can feel it in every breath. Every kiss. Every roll of her tongue against mine.

When she finally pulls back, it’s only because she wants to look at me. Her lips are red and wet. Her brown eyes drop to my mouth, then flick up—dark and wrecked and satisfied.

“Open your mouth,” she murmurs, accent thicker than ever. My lips part automatically. She slides her thumb inside, presses down on my tongue, slow.

“I knew you’d listen.”

She pulls her thumb out, replaces it with her mouth again—deeper, wetter this time, kissing like she’s pissed at how much she missed this before it ever started. When I whimper, just a little, she smirks against my mouth.

“You think I was gonna let you flirt around like you’re single?”

I pant between kisses. “You haven’t even asked me out.”

Her fingers curl into my waist again. “Why would I ask?” she growls. “You were mine the second you made me jealous.”

She goes back to kissing me like it’s punishment.I let her. Every second.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[sloaneispunk]

“the vote”

frontman!in-ho x you

after the second game, it was time to cast your votes- “x” or “o”. although the team had agreed on ending it then and there, in-ho had betrayed you. overwhelmed by deceit, you refused to talk to him after that, making him desperate to win your trust back.

“78 million per person, that’s good enough right?” dae-ho ran towards the team, enthusiastically pointing at the scoreboard.

“to be honest, i don’t care if it’s not enough, i just wanna get out of here.” you half-heartedly joked. in-ho looked up from the floor, catching your gaze. he could see past the facade you were putting up.

at that moment, in-ho wished that he could reveal his real identity to you, show you exactly who he was and the power he had. he wanted to help you.

there was nothing in the world he wouldn’t give for you to make it out of here alive, but it wasn’t that easy. afterall, you weren’t suppose to be his prime objective, and he couldn’t let the games end just like that.

“we will start with player 456. please proceed to the podium.”

“gi-hun, you’re up!” jung-bae said, grabbing the man.

“we can end this right now.” jun-hee added, making gi-hun nod, his eyes filled with determination.

everyone held their breaths as gi-hun stalked closer and closer to the two buttons. with one final look at everyone, his hand came down hard on ‘x’, making the team cheer loudly.

“y/n.” you heard a familiar voice call out to you from behind. it was in-ho, or should you say, young-il.

you gave him a small smile, quietly slipping away from everyone else to take your stand beside him.

“are you okay?” you asked, making him chuckle.

“i’m okay, y/n.” he replied throwing his arm gently around your shoulder.

“then why are you acting so weird?”

he sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “it’s just… i-i don’t know-are you sure ending the games right now is the right thing to do?”

your eyes narrowed. “what are you saying?”

“i just think, i mean, the 78 million can barely cover your debts. how are you going to continue on? you don’t want those loan-sharks coming after you again, do you?”

“young-il, whatever’s going on with you right now, it’s not making you think rational-”

“but y/n-”

“-no, young-il! what if you die in the next game?! what if we die?!”

“player 289, please proceed to the podim.”

that was your number.

“i hope you make the right choice.” you muttered under your breath before slipping out of his hold and walking away from him.

in-ho watched intensely, full of guilt and shame as you hit the “x” button. he gazed longingly as you headed to the other side of the room with the others who wanted to leave, head never lifting up from the ground once to look at him.

“you know she only reacted that way because she cares about you, right?” jung-bae awkwardly shifted to in-ho’s side, nudging his elbow.

but in-ho was having none of it. he shot jung-bae a look that pierced through his soul, sending shivers down his spine. jung-bae gulped and raised his hands in defeat, backing off.

when it finally came down to the last number, player 001, in-ho was ready. however, you already knew deep down he was planning to stay, but you had a small sliver of hope he would change his mind.

but of course, he didn’t.

the “o’s” had won. again.

you couldn’t believe it.

with a huff, you walked back to your bed, ignoring in-ho who chased after you.

after that, in-ho didn’t see much of you. even ehen the team had gathered for meal time, you didn’t show up. in-ho thought that by now, you would’ve came to your senses, or at least cooled doen enough to talk to him again. but he was wrong.

as the team chattered about what they think the next game might be, in-ho grabbed another serving. then, he looked up and down for you.

eventually, his eyes landed on a small figure on the other side of the room. crouched down and slumped on the cold cement floor with your back against the wall.

“y/n, sweetheart. do you wanna come back and sit with us?” he tried to ask nicely, his figure hovering above you, but you refused to look up. “are we really gonna do this?”

still no reply.

in-ho sighed, kneeling down, placing the food on the floor beside him. he placed a hand on your knee, the other gently grabbing your face, forcing you to look at him.

“can you at least eat?” he beckoned, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

your eyes were cold. that warm, inviting look you once had now gone. in-ho didn’t like that.

“i’m not hungry.” you told him flatly.

“y/n.” he said in a warning tone. “eat.”

“no thank you.”

in-ho didn’t know what came over him. it was like a protective drive that made him want to take control of you. so he grabbed your arm and pulled you along with him as he walked back to the group, picking up the extra serving along the way.

“what-?! let me go, you psycho!” you raised your voice, trying to wriggle out of his grip but it was tight.

he had dragged you all the way back to your team.

“now sit.” he instructed.

“w-what?”

“sit, please?” contradicting his tone, his gaze softened when he looked at you. his eyes almost begging.

after much hesitation, you slowly sat down. in-ho made sure to take the empty space beside you.

“now, will you please eat?”

“i-”

“or do you need me to feed you?”

that question caught you off guard, you nearly choked as no words came out of your mouth.

you simply nodded, picking the food up and eating silently as in-ho engaged in the conversation the team was having.

after few minutes later, you had gobbled down the lat of your food. in-ho smiled to himself, he knew you were starving afterall, he saw pass your little white lie.

“hey.” he whispered, nudging your shoulder causing you to look up. “are you still hungry?”

“a little, but i’m okay.” you replied, but your stomach failed you, grumbling as your eyes trailed down to in-ho’s uneaten food.

“finish it.” he said, offering you what was left.

“you’re kidding.” you laughed, but it dropped when he didn’t falter. “seriously?”

he nodded. “you need all the energy you can get, sweetheart. i can’t have you passing out on me mid-game.”

“i might just do that to get your attention.”

“you already have all my attention, y/n.” in-ho said lovingly, ruffling your hair. “so, does this mean you forgive me?”

“nope.” you said, popping the ‘p’. in-ho couldn’t believe it.

if that wasn’t enough to win you back he didn’t know what could.

but in-ho loved a good challenge.

the next day, a new game was introduced.

mingle.

“oh, we are so dead.” you moaned as you stepped into the arena. this game was set to eliminate and everybody knew that.

“what the hell kind of game is this?” dae-ho groaned, coming to your side.

“we just have to stick together, we’ll make it out alive.” said jun-hee.

then, in-ho scooped you over to him easily by taking your arm. “i want you by my side the whole time.”

he was dead serious. looking at him, there was not one single fiber in his body that was kidding.

“understood?”

“yes.” you complied.

and just like that, the game had begun.

as the platform beneath you started to move, panic shot through you.

‘9’

the lights dimmed.

a blaring alarm sounded.

flashing lights of red and white engulfed your vision.

“that group over there!” you heard gi-hun yell amongst the chaos. your eyes shot to where he was pointing.

you grabbed them and without wasting any time, the nine of you dashed to the nearest room, closing the door shut behind you.

there was a moment of silence, everyone trying to catch their breath.

“is everyone alright?” the old lady from the other team was the first to speak up.

when everyone was accounted for, she turned to you. “thank you, young lady. without you i don’t think we would have made it on time.”

you shook your head. “it’s no problem, miss. i’m glad everyone is safe.”

in-ho stood beside you, watching the exchange. his heart warmed at the sight of your kindess. even in a place like this you had the heart to think about others.

that was something he could never have.

“good job, y/n.” in-ho praised you, placing a kiss to your temple.

a few rounds had passed and gi-hun speculated that this would be the final round.

“how do you know?”

“final round. they’re going to seperate us into twos.” gi-hun explained as the platform started to spin. “there’s only about a hundred of us left and less than fifty rooms. it’s the easiest and most efficient way of getting us to turn against each other.”

he was right.

one glanced at the players and you could see the change in demeanour. it was every man for himself. no one was willing to make a sacrifice for another.

when the platform came to a halt, low and behold, it was the number 2.

you searched around for jun-hee. if anyone should make it out of that place, it was her and her unborn child.

just as you spotted her among the crowd, a hand grabbed your waist, hauling you away from everyone. you looked up to see in-ho.

despite wanting to ensure jun-hee’s safety, one glance at the timer made you realise that you didn’t have the time to. so, you followed in-ho’s lead into the nearest room.

just as you thought you were clear from the danger, you came face to face with the most obnoxious person in the games. thanos.

“señorita!” he exclaimed, yanking you out of in-ho’s embrace. “come with me.”

“young-il!” you screamed, thrashing and kicking but thanos’ hands only tightened.

at the lost of your warmth, in-ho immediately went back for you.

there was only 40 seconds left.

he ran right up to thanos, drew his fist back and with all the energy he could muster up, threw a punch straight into his face.

“jesus! what’s your problem, old man?!” thanos yelped out in pain, his hands flying to his face.

in-ho didn’t stop there. he practically pounced on the man, grabbing him by the collar and landing blows left and right. you stumbled away from the mess, eyes growing wide after the violence you didn’t know in-ho was capable of.

quickly, your crawled back to them, pulling in-ho away from thanos as the timer continued to go down.

“young-il, let go!”

but he wouldn’t listen.

“young-il, that’s enough!”

it wasn’t until in-ho locked eyes with you, then he stopped. with tears nearly spilling from your eyes, he stopped in his tracks, turning his attention from thanos to you.

10 seconds

he immediately scooped you up from the ground, not waiting for you to protest before he headed straight for an empty room. with you in his arms, he could feel your body trembling.

when the two of you got into the room safely, he placed you carefully on the ground. he too sank to the floor, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could, you buried yourself to his side, catching him off guard.

nevertheless, he opened his arms, wrapping them around you.

you felt like a little kid, hugging their plushie when they got scared. except this plushie was someone who you knew deep down you shouldn’t be with or even feel safe with. but you loved the way he protected you, looked out for you. there was something so intimate about every single thing in-ho did for you. even almost beating thanos into a bloody pulp because he took you away from him.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard in-ho’s voice call out to you. “hm? what?” you asked, still not moving from where you were.

you felt him let out a deep chuckle. “i said, are we even now?”

you felt his finger threading through your hair, playing with the different strands, making you hum. “definitely.”

holy shit i’m so excited for s3 (& and all the new LBH fics i’m gonna write)

stay tuned!

[undyingdecay]

hi!! congrats on your following milestone :D i’m so glad i found your blog <3 would you be comfortable writing john walker with a gun? like him fucking the reader with his gun

john a little too rough, a little too smug, wearing that crooked grin like he owns you. because he does. or at least he likes to think so. and you don’t mind letting him believe it, not when he gets like this.

the motel room’s dim, peeling wallpaper and a whiskey glass half-finished on the nightstand, your clothes scattered across the floor like the aftermath of a storm. john’s got you on your knees, breath coming in ragged little huffs, one hand tangled tight in your hair to keep you where he wants you.

“look at you,” he murmurs, low and syrup-thick, a mocking sort of fondness in his voice. “always so fuckin’ eager.”

and then the gun comes out.

not like it’s a big deal. not like it’s anything special. just the way john treats everything dangerous — casual, like a toy, like a cigarette balanced between his teeth. it’s cold when it touches the inside of your thigh, metal kissing flushed skin, making you jolt.

“relax, sweetheart,” he teases, smirking down at you. “not gonna shoot ya. unless you ask nice.”

his other hand drags the barrel up, slow and mean, watching the way you shiver when it slides between your legs, pressing against your already soaked cunt like it’s nothing. his eyes flick up, dark and hungry, taking in every twitch and gasp you try to stifle.

“fuckin’ filthy,” he mutters, voice rough with want.

he makes you beg for it, of course. makes you say please, makes you admit how bad you want it, how wet you are for him, for the gun. and you do — because you know how this works, how john needs to hear it, needs the proof that you’re just as ruined for him as he is for you.

when he finally presses it in, slow and deliberate, it’s cold, foreign, making your back arch and a broken whine catch in your throat. john watches, drinking it in like a man starved, a satisfied little grunt slipping past his lips.

“look at that,” he growls. “takin’ it so good. knew you would. fuckin’ perfect.”

he moves it slow at first, teasing, making you squirm, until your hips are chasing the movement, until you’re sobbing for more. and he gives it to you. rough, fast, unrelenting. one hand still in your hair, the other pressing the barrel deep, watching you fall apart on it.

his voice stays low, taunting, dirty little nothings murmured against your ear.

“bet you’ll think about this every time you see me with this thing, huh? every time i pull it out, you’ll get wet just like this. fuckin’ pathetic.”

and you will. you know you will.

it’s messy. degrading. perfect. john getting off on how ruined you look, how you beg for something so wrong, so dangerous. and when you finally come, shaking and sobbing his name, he laughs — mean and sharp and a little too fond.

“that’s my girl,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple like it’s some tender thing, though his hand’s still on the grip.

and later, when you’re sprawled across the bed, wrecked and boneless, he tucks the gun back into his holster like it’s nothing. like it didn’t just make you fall apart for him.

because to john walker, it isn’t a weapon. it’s just another way to remind you who you belong to.

[nicholastcall]

party 4 u

sunghoon x m!reader | nsfw (mdni) | wc; 1.6k

desc : you and Sunghoon sneak into a bathroom at a party and he gives you a night you wont forget

⚠️ content : risky sex, blowjob, head pushing, unprotected sex (stay safe irl), rough sunghoon, finishing inside, let me know if i missed anything !!

The vibrations from the speakers filled your body as Sunghoon latched his lips onto yours. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the alcohol making your face feel warm, but you didn’t care at this point. Your hands roamed each other like your bodies were maps the two of you needed to memorize. The taste of his strawberry chapstick lingers on your tongue as you feel his warm hands slide up your shirt, feeling your toned abdomen.

He quickly presses you against the counter, moving his mouth from your lips to your neck. You cover your mouth as you let out breathy moans to not let anyone hear you. He took that as a challenge as he picked you up so you sat on the counter and moved his hands up to your nipples, playing with the sensitive skin.

“F-fuck, ahh.”

You quietly let out as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You feel him smirking against your neck at how he’s making you feel. He spreads your legs wider, positioning himself in between you as he presses himself against you. You feel his dick getting harder and harder as he grinds his hips into you, teasing you on what you’re gonna get soon. You feel your own cock get harder as the acts go on against his own. The friction quickly builds between the two of you, causing you to almost moan louder than you should be.

Sunghoon quickly strips you of your shirt, revealing your bare chest to him. He quickly follows, taking his own shirt off revealing his muscular build. You place your hands on his broad shoulders as you stand back up, stealing his lips with yours once again. You pushed him against the wall, the warmth of your bare skin against each other was intoxicating. Your hand finds his hard cock bulging out of his pants, begging for your attention.

The strong scent of his cologne hit your nose like a truck while you two made out. It was taking over you, making your need for him stronger. You move to kiss and worship his body, everything from his neck, his chest, his abs, all the way down to his cock. The sight of you on your knees in front of him riled him up even more – he felt something primal come over him.

He grabbed the back of your head and forced your face into his hard length, making you tongue the clothes over his dick. You moan into him, the natural musk making you even hornier than you already were. The gaze you two shared were mutually hungry for each other.

“You want my cock baby?”

He asks you as you drool over his pants waiting for him to pull out his cock. You him into him – you felt his cock twitch at the sudden vibration. He gives you a nod and you take your mouth off of him to slide your fingers through the top of his pants. You quickly drop his pants along with his boxers, leaving his bottom half completely exposed. His dick was so long, so hard, leaking with precum at the tip.

Your eager mouth couldn’t handle another second. You wrap your hand around his thick length, stroking it slowly as more precum comes out. You look up to see his expression above you – his face winced as his mouth opens to let out quiet groans. He places his hand on the top of your head to balance himself. You slowly lean forward to place your tongue onto his shaft, taking in the salty flavor of his cum. You lick from his tip down to his shaft, showing love to every bit of him.

“Good boy, just like that.”

His sudden praise makes you feel something inside of you. You finally take his cock fully into your mouth, wrapping it in the heat of your throat. You reach down into your own pants to pull out your erection, slowly stroking it to build up to your own climax. The pleasure you feel around yourself makes you moan around his dick, causing him to twitch inside of your mouth. The risk of the situation made you feel even hotter – all the people outside of the bathroom not knowing the two of you were fucking in the bathroom filled you with adrenaline.

Sunghoon leans his head back in pleasure as he grips your hair into the hand on your head. He begins to fasten and deepen the strokes of your mouth, causing you to gag around his cock. You felt him hit the back of your throat over and over again until he held you down, fully swallowing his entire length. You couldn’t breathe but you didn’t care. You just wanted to please Sunghoon the best you could. Become his personal toy just to fuck for the night.

He finally let go of you after a few seconds of staying there. Your saliva was all over him, a string of it connecting him to your mouth. You gasp for air trying to recover from him when he pulls you up to capture your lips once again. You felt his hands come around you, framing your ass into his grasp. You moan into his mouth as he grips you tighter, desperate for him to finally be inside of you.

“Let’s hurry up, don’t wanna leave our friends waiting for us.”

“Please, I need it now.” With your whining, he turns you around, his chest resting against your back as he reaches around to jerk you off. You feel his hardness against your ass, you slowly grind against him, teasing him until he loses his control. He doesn’t give a warning or any preparation before he begins to slide his dick inside of you. You cover your mouth to not be loud as he stretches your hole, the foreign feeling burns but it feels so good. You reach your mouth to cover your moans when he grabs your wrist with one hand to pin it behind you.

“Don’t hide how good I make you feel. Go ahead let the whole house know how good I’m fucking you right now.” You can’t even respond with how deep his dick is reaching inside of you. He hits your spot with ease, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. He finally bottoms out inside of you, sitting there as you adjust to his size. After some time, he begins moving. In and out, very slowly but deep strokes inside of your ass. You can’t control the sounds you’re releasing as he fucks you like it was his last time ever having sex.

He releases your wrist to pull your head up making you stare at your fucked out face he’s given you. Sweat coating both of your bodies making your skin look silky, you watch as his dick enters and exits you with ease like you were made to take him.

“Yeah, watch while I fuck you. Look at yourself being such a whore on my cock.” That’s all you could do, you were under his total control – under his mercy. His pace begins to pick up as skin on skin begins to fill the room. The only thing you could hear was him fucking the life out of you. The only thought you had was his dick going in and out of you right now. He was fucking you stupid and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You feel him reach around your body to grab your cock to start jerking it off once again. The stimulation is too much for you as your knees buckled under his touch. The combination of the warmth from his chest along with his breath on your neck intoxicated you. You felt the sweat transfer from his body onto yours as it dripped onto you after every thrust.

Sunghoon quickly removes himself from you, causing you to whine out from the loss of him. He quickly flips you around positioning your legs over his shoulders as he sticks his dick back inside if you. His pace is evidently faster and sloppier – you could tell he was close. He begins to moan more frequently, more needily, more guttural. The feeling of him pistonint his length inside of you was driving your mind wild, running at a million miles an hour.

He jerks your cock faster as you feel yourself twitch into his hand – loads of precum coat yourself, his hand, and inside of you from him. You stare into his eyes deeply, not able to say anything, just moan from the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Are you about to cum? You can let go. I wanna see you cum all over yourself.” With his words you instantly release like his they were a key to a lock. Your juices coat your abdomen and chest while he continues inside of you. You grasp onto his shoulder to ground yourself from the stimulation.

“Fuck I’m about to cum y/n. Where do you want me to cum?”

“Cum inside me please I need it!” He smirks at the effect he has on you, so needy to be filled up by him. He thrusts inside of you a few more times until he gives you one last, deep thrust, painting your insides with his cum. You feel his warm load filling you up as Sunghoon tilts his head back in pleasure, exposing his sharp jawline and toned chest muscles. He stays there for a bit, riding out his high you’ve given him. When he finally comes down, he pulls out of your gaping hole. Both of you gasping for air, sweat coating your bodies, and adrenaline slowly coming down.

“That was amazing y/n, let’s do that again sometime. Promise I’ll be nicer to you”

[sinsxo]

symphony. —itoshi rin

cw. mdni! nsfw, fem!reader, toxic relationship dynamics, angst, degradation, emotionally charged arguments, make up sex, rough sex, soft aftercare.

based on this request.

note. loved writing this. had the perfect song in mind — symphony by highvyn ft. JEY.

synopsis. another cold war. unresolved arguments. you and rin can’t seem to talk without it ending in a fight — or something worse.

wc. 2.3k words, not proofread.

again.

you sighed, slumped on the couch in the living room of the apartment you shared with rin.

cold, bitter, and alone.

just like what your relationship had become.

you checked your phone again — looking for anything. a text, a missed call, even a single-word reply — just an update from rin.

none.

figures.

you and rin were in another cold war. tension high, wounds fresh from your last argument — yet neither of you did anything to fix it. it was just quiet now. empty.

the sound of the front door opening pulled you out of your spiral. rin walked in, fresh from training, the same blank expression on his face.

“didn’t think you’d come home,” you muttered, eyes still on your phone.

“don’t start.”

you scoffed. “don’t start? you do know you have a phone, right? a simple text would’ve been greatly appreciated.”

“didn’t think you’d care,” he replied flatly, already walking toward the bedroom without looking back.

you followed.

“you’re right. maybe i shouldn’t care next time,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. “couldn’t even spare five seconds for a damn message? i’m supposed to be your girlfriend, but i don’t know where you are half the time — your schedule, your plans — nothing.”

he exhaled through his nose. “can we not do this right now? i’m tired.”

“yeah? when are you not?”

he stopped by the dresser, jaw clenching. “my schedule’s packed even during breaks. i come home to this — to you — picking a fight. i leave for germany again in two days, and you can’t give me a fucking break?”

“i’m not picking a fight, rin. i’m asking for basic communication!”

“and using that tone that makes it worse,” he snapped. “it’s always about you, and i’m so fucking tired of it. drop it — we’ll talk next time.”

you stared at him, chest heaving. “next time? it’s always next time, and it ends like this every time. i hate it. i hate you.”

“good,” he said coldly. “the feeling’s mutual.”

and with that, he slammed the bathroom door behind him.

you stood there, seething. for someone so cold, he sure boiled fast.

you slammed the bedroom door shut behind you, throwing yourself onto the bed. lying on your side, you curled into yourself, your phone abandoned beside you.

how did it get like this?

every fight followed the same cycle.

you argued, you avoided, then you ignored each other until something snapped and it all spilled over again.

you let out a loud sigh. then another.

and by the third, the bathroom door opened.

“can you not?” rin’s voice came from the doorway of the master bathroom. “your sighing is so loud. it’s annoying.”

you rolled over, finally looking at him. “what? i can’t breathe now?”

he didn’t respond at first. just stood there, jaw clenched, putting on his clothes.

then he sighed. you understood him now, because that pissed you off too.

before you could say anything else, he walked over and sat beside you on the bed, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“look,” he said, voice low, tired. “i’m sick of this too. it’s not just you.”

you had your eyes closed, trying to shut everything out. but he saw the scrunch in your expression, your trembling lips.

“i don’t mean to give you the silent treatment,” he continued. “but the more we fight, the more i avoid you — not because i don’t care, but because i don’t want to say something i’ll regret. i know my temper, and i know yours. it’s like… fighting fire with fire. no control, and we both get burned. i just wish we’d just let our pride go sometimes.”

his voice dropped even lower.

“i know you don’t mean half the shit you say when you’re upset. but it still cuts deep. and i know i do the same too, no excuses for that. i just… i’m done pretending this is normal. that we’re fine.”

you slowly opened your eyes, then sat up, ashamed.

“i don’t mean to pick fights,” your voice came out small. “i just get so overwhelmed sometimes. we barely spend time together anymore. and when you come home exhausted, i feel like i can’t even talk to you. like i have to hold it in so you won’t get tired of me too.”

your voice cracked. “i didn’t mean to become the thing i feared. i didn’t mean to push you away.”

you looked at him then — eyes filled with guilt.

“i don’t want to be the reason you stop loving me. but sometimes i feel like i already am.”

“is that what you’ve been thinking?” he asked softly.

“yeah,” you whispered. “i’m scared you don’t need me the way i need you.”

rin leaned in, brows furrowed. “so that’s what this was about.”

you looked up, confused. “what do you mean?”

but before you could finish, he moved — leaning over you, arms caging you in as your back met the mattress.

“you could’ve just told me,” he muttered, voice low. “but no. you chose this way.”

his expression was tight. angry, yes — but not at you. not really. maybe at himself, for missing it. for not seeing it sooner.

before you could reply, his lips were on yours — rough, desperate. all emotion, no control.

maybe anger. maybe guilt. maybe frustration. maybe love.

your arms wrapped around his shoulders, tugging at his shirt. he broke the kiss only long enough to take it off, doing the same to you — undressing you with trembling hands.

then he was kissing you again. deeper. like he needed to.

you kissed him like you were afraid he’d leave mid-breath, and he kissed you like he was trying to make you stay.

“for someone who says they hate me,” he mumbled against your lips, “you sure hold on tight.”

“shut it,” you whispered, pulling him back into a kiss.

he groaned low in his throat, his lips trailing from your mouth to your neck, collarbone, chest — every inch of you. everything felt so raw, like you were making up with each other with touch instead of words.

you couldn’t even remember the last time you touched each other like this. not even a hug. not even holding hands.

and now you clung to each other like you’d shatter if you let go.

he spread your legs open before you realised.

you inhaled sharply, your thighs twitching under his touch.

“keep them open,” he muttered, voice low, warm breath ghosting over your inner thigh.

you tried to close them on instinct, flustered, unsure if you were still mad at him or you were just that needy, but his hands were firm, prying you apart again.

“don’t be difficult now. you’ve been doing that all day.” he looked up at you with that same cold, condescending stare he gave you during fights — but now it made your stomach flutter.

“fuck off.” you tried to sound strong, but your voice wavered.

“mm,” he hummed, fingers brushing over your heat, slow and teasing. “still got a mouth on you. but i wonder how long that’ll last.”

you reached down to swat his hand away, but he caught your wrist midair.

“don’t,” he glared at you. “you’ve talked enough for one night.”

he didn’t wait for a reply.

his mouth was on you before you could form a thought — tongue working slow circles that had your legs shaking in seconds. you gasped, back arching, one hand clutching the sheets while the other tangled itself in his hair, tugging hard.

“ah— fuck, rin—!”

he sucked harder, the pressure making your hips buck. he held them down with one hand, the other slipping up to your chest, pinching your nipple just to hear you gasp again.

“such a mess already,” he said, pulling away just enough to talk.

his lips and chin were slick with you. “missed me that much?”

you glared at him through your haze. “hurry up and fuck me already...”

he raised a brow. “so needy,” he sat up, grabbing you by the ankles and yanking you down the bed until your hips hit the edge. “spread.”

you did — barely — still glaring, defiant.

“you know this is all we ever do,” he muttered, voice sharp as his fingers dug into your thighs. “fight until we’re so fucking drained, then fall apart like this.”

his jaw clenched, eyes flickering over your bare body beneath him. he looked angry.

not just at you. maybe even more at himself.

“what the hell are we even doing?” he asked, voice low as he dragged two fingers along your slit, watching you squirm. “we tear each other apart just to crawl back like this every time.”

you didn’t answer. couldn’t.

your breath hitched as his fingers circled your clit — teasing you, like he was taunting you.

“you hate me,” he said — like he was reminding himself. “you say it all the time. say you’re done. say i’m not enough.”

then he pushed two fingers in — without warning — and you cried out, hips lifting from the bed before he shoved them down again.

“but here you are.”

your fingers curled into the sheets, the burn between your legs making your thighs tremble.

“every fucking time,” he hissed, curling his fingers until your back arched. “you hurt me. i hurt you. and we still end up like this.”

you bit your lip. your voice was shaky.

“what do you want me to say?”

he laughed — sounding bitter — before pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the thick press of his cock, dragging along your folds before pushing in all at once.

you screamed, nails scratching down his back as his hips were flush against yours. he didn’t ease in. didn’t ask. just pushed forward until he bottomed out and you cried out beneath him.

“don’t say anything,” he groaned against your neck. “just shut the fuck up for once.”

you bit his shoulder hard, and he moaned — gripping your hips hard enough to bruise before he started moving.

“so fucking tight for me,” he gritted as he thrusted into you roughly.

you choked on a moan, head spinning.

his pace didn’t slow — it grew rougher and sloppier — frustration spilling out in every thrust, every smack of skin, every breathless insult laced with something more. something like love mixed with anger.

his hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back.

“you make me fucking sick,” he muttered, lips brushing your jaw. “i hate what you do to me.”

but he kissed you anyway — deep, tongue sliding past your lips as he fucked you even harder. and you kissed him back like he was your oxygen, nails digging into his back like you needed to anchor yourself to him or you’d drown.

“this is the only time we don’t lie to each other,” he muttered. “when you’re under me like this.”

you couldn’t deny it. didn’t even try.

because he was right.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, dragging him closer, making him fuck you deeper until your cries turned into sobs — broken and breathless, like your pride was cracking at the seams.

and maybe it was. maybe his was too.

he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath stuttering against your lips as his thrusts turned frantic, rough and filled with everything he couldn’t say.

“hate you,” you gasped, eyes glassy as you reached your release.

“i know,” he whispered, letting go inside you. “me too.”

but he kissed you again — tongue tangling with yours as your bodies moved in sync, like the fighting never mattered. like nothing ever did, except this.

you didn’t know what this was. maybe love. maybe something worse.

but whatever it was, it destroyed you every time. and you always came back for more.

then silence.

just the sound of your ragged breaths, coming down from both of your highs.

sweat clinging to skin.

your hand still tangled with his as he hovered over you.

he didn’t speak.

but he didn’t leave either.

rin pulled out slowly, watching the way you winced — watching your body twitch from the aftershocks, trembling from everything he gave you and everything he took.

then he cleaned you up without a word.

not rough. not soft.

just careful.

like he was trying not to be cruel anymore.

like it was the only apology he knew how to give.

you were in a daze for a bit until your eyes fluttered open — barely.

just enough to catch the tension in his shoulders, the tight line of his jaw, the way his brows furrowed as he wiped your skin with a warm, damp towel.

when he was done, he tossed it somewhere off the bed, pulling the blanket over you both before slipping in behind you without a sound.

and then he wrapped his arms around you.

tight like he didn’t want to let go.

desperate like he couldn’t.

you exhaled softly, the last of your strength giving out as you melted into him. his chest met your back and you pressed closer, instinctive, vulnerable.

he kissed your shoulder, then again. softer. like he didn’t mean to. like the ache inside him needed a place to rest.

you weren’t facing him.

but his hand found yours beneath the covers and linked your pinkies together — the way he always did when he couldn’t say sorry — when the guilt sat too loud in his throat and too heavy in his chest.

and even though not a single word passed between you, even though the air still pulsed with all the things left unsaid, you fell asleep like that.

this kind of love love made you feel drained yet aching, tethered by one fragile finger and everything you both refused to say. but at this moment, with the both of you tangled in each other’s touch, nothing mattered — not the damage, not the distance — just the ache of holding on anyway.

because in two days, he’d be gone again.

just like he always was.

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

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[azzifudd10]

Somewhere To Land

Chapter 21: Us

7:48 a.m. — Paige’s Apartment

The morning was lazy in the best way. Eli had taken his bottle like a champ and was now sitting in Paige’s lap, squishing the buttons on the TV remote and laughing every time the volume bar moved.

Paige, hoodie-clad and one-hand functional, just grinned and let him live his best life.

“You’re too powerful,” she said seriously. “They should make baby-sized remotes.”

From the kitchen, Azzi snorted. “You just want control back.”

“No,” Paige said, “I just want to change it off ‘Cocomelon’ before I lose my mind.”

“Don’t slander classics,” Azzi called, pouring coffee.

Paige tilted her head back to smile at her. “You’re beautiful when you’re caffeinated.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I made you muffins.”

Paige smirked. “And because I’m in love with you.”

Azzi went still for a half-second — that familiar softness blooming in her chest again — then crossed the living room and kissed the top of Paige’s head. “I love you, too. You big baby.”

“Hey, that’s his title.” Paige pointed at Eli.

Eli blew a raspberry.

8:10 a.m. — Hallway Outside Azzi’s Apartment

Katie and Tim stood in front of the door, holding coffees and a small stuffed animal for Eli.

“She said she was off today, right?” Tim asked.

Katie nodded. “Yup. And she told me if I ever don’t call ahead, I’m ‘insane’.”

“So this is insane?”

Katie grinned. “Absolutely.”

She knocked.

Nothing.

Then knocked again.

Still nothing.

Tim glanced down the hallway. “Maybe she’s out with the baby?”

Katie looked at the doormat. No packages. No shoes. No stroller.

Then she noticed the slightly cracked door across the hall. The one with a hoodie hanging on the knob.

“She mentioned a neighbor. A ‘friend,’” Katie said with a knowing smile. “Maybe she’s there.”

And with zero hesitation, she walked over and knocked.

8:13 a.m. — Paige’s Apartment

Paige rocked gently on the couch with Eli in her lap and was about to steal a bite of muffin when someone knocked.

Azzi frowned from the kitchen. “You expecting someone?”

Paige shrugged. “Nai maybe?”

She got up — slowly — and cracked the door.

Two strangers stood there. Middle-aged. Warm eyes. Familiar cheekbones.

“Hi?” Paige blinked.

Katie tilted her head. “Sorry to bother you — we were looking for Azzi?”

Paige hesitated. “She’s—uh—she’s right here. Come in.”

Katie and Tim stepped inside, immediately clocking Paige’s bandaged hand, the baby in her arm, and Azzi poking her head around the kitchen wall looking confused as hell.

“Mom?” Azzi said, eyes wide. “What are you—?”

“I told you we’d visit!” Katie said, walking over to hug her. “Just… didn’t say when.”

Azzi hugged her back, stunned. “I thought you meant, like… next week.”

“I like surprises.”

Tim came over and pulled Azzi in next. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Azzi laughed in disbelief. “Y’all are insane.”

“And yet,” Katie said, turning to Paige, “this must be Paige.”

Paige stood awkwardly, shifting Eli in her arms. “Hi. Sorry I look like a mess.”

Katie stepped forward, ignoring the awkwardness entirely, and gave Paige a soft hug around the shoulders. “You’ve been taking care of my girl. Thank you.”

Paige blinked. “I think it’s the other way around.”

Tim chuckled. “Nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard good things. And bad ones. But mostly good.”

Azzi groaned, face in her hands.

8:35 a.m. — Living Room

Eli now sat in Tim’s lap, chewing on the ear of a stuffed bunny while Paige and Katie shared the couch, a little more relaxed now.

Azzi, next to Paige, kept stealing glances between them like she couldn’t believe this was real.

“You really didn’t know she lived across from you?” Katie asked.

Azzi shook her head. “Not until I told her I was moving and she was like, ‘That’s literally across the hall.’”

Tim laughed. “Fate’s funny that way.”

Katie looked at Paige. “And you’re recovering alright?”

Paige nodded. “Azzi’s been taking care of me. I’m… not good at asking for help. But she doesn’t really give me the option.”

“Sounds like someone I raised,” Katie said with a smirk.

Azzi nudged her mom. “Hey now.”

“No complaints,” Paige said softly. “It’s been… really nice. Being with both of them.”

10:20 a.m. — Quiet Moment on the Balcony

Katie stood beside Azzi, both of them holding mugs as they looked out over the street below.

“She’s lovely,” Katie said. “And clearly loves you.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “I’ve never had something feel like this before.”

Katie leaned into her shoulder. “You deserve it. After everything… I’m glad you’ve got this. That little boy, too.”

Azzi looked back through the glass door at the couch — at Paige laughing as Eli grabbed her cheeks and babbled at her.

“I think he loves her.”

Katie smiled. “Then I’m not surprised you do, too.”

11:47 a.m. — Back Inside

As they packed up to leave, Katie turned back to Paige. “We’re in town for a few more days. If you ever want a break, or just someone to hang with while she’s at work, we’re around.”

Paige smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Tim shook her hand carefully. “Take it easy on that finger. But I hope we see you on the court again soon.”

Azzi followed her parents out into the hall, giving them each another hug. “You’re crazy for just showing up.”

Katie winked. “Yeah, but it worked.”

Later That Night — Paige’s Apartment

Azzi lay with her head on Paige’s shoulder, Eli curled between them. The soft hum of a lullaby app played on her phone.

“I think they liked you,” Azzi whispered.

“I was terrified.”

“You didn’t seem it.”

“I had your mac and cheese in my system. It gave me power.”

Azzi laughed. “So you’re saying I should keep cooking for you?”

“I’m saying,” Paige said, kissing the side of her head, “don’t stop doing anything you’re doing. Because this… us... it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”Azzi turned her face toward her. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Episode Thoughts…

Continuing to like this Vic. I want to keep her forever. She finally makes sense. Haha. I just really like her being there for Robert and wanting to help him so much. That and telling off John. He’s a walking red flag, Vic, open your eyes!

Loved her blatantly telling John he was insecure. Understatement but very painfully true.

I’m glad they’re still talking about therapy for Robert. The plot needs to give him money for that and to buy Eric’s house.

The Aaron scene was definitely rough in the second half. But I actually really liked the way they did the switch. You could see Aaron being concerned and caring in the first part of the conversation, using his soft voice to ask if Robert was okay. It was only when Robert, perhaps inappropriately implied it was Aaron he wanted to talk to about not being okay that he started pushing back.

I mean yes, it probably wasn’t fair of Robert to ask all things considered.

But I like the implication that Aaron only started to push back when the idea of spending any real time with him came up because he knows that he would cave so fast. A vulnerable Robert standing there asking him for help and wanting to open up? That’s the Robert of Aaron’s dreams right there. Haha. But no, he can’t be that person for him because he can’t trust himself so he has to exhaustedly break up with him for the four hundredth time.

And so poor Robert gets himself a date. His awkward flirting was mildly painful to watch. Also date rapist Owen and Mike the Chef seem to have the same awkward flirting style back.

It was a good kiss though. Let’s have a repeat of that with Aaron down the line please. Good practice for a reunion kiss?

I do kind of wish we saw more of a private reaction from Aaron instead of him telling John it was tragic and walking away. But hey he did get out of there fast. So maybe that’s something.

And I love that Robert is still just like “yeah no I can’t actually sleep with you” to these guys. They don’t stand a chance. Not even when Aaron rejects him.

But anyway, fuck Owen and his drugging him. And why does everyone have a creepy murder van?!? First I thought he was putting him in the back of John’s van until I realized the doors were different.

Speaking of John. I really wish the drugging had been his doing. Unless they’re going to reveal a twist later. I know part of his thing is just manipulating situations as they come to his hero benefit but sometimes I just wish his actions were a little more villainous and intentional.

I mean we don’t know what he’s going to do exactly now other than monologue and stand over him with a syringe. I imagine he’ll play the hero and fake find him or something. I just hope Robert doesn’t really fall for it.

Speaking of Robert not falling for John’s BS, his face during that scene where John was telling Vic to come to him if she ever feels unsafe was great. He was like “who the fuck does this guy think he is?!” Also he said it directly in front of Robert. Not that he cares but still. Haha.

Overall good stuff. Looking forward to the rest of the week.

[sapphicandgraphic]

Teacher’s Pet - Unfinished Business

Summary: Your past comes knocking in the form of Melina Vostokoff. Agatha helps you handle some unfinished business in this angsty hurt/comfort one-shot.

Warnings: Melina means well but reader experiences chemical subjugation oops! Mentions of mind control, brainwashing, choking…I think that’s it?

Word count: 5K+

For weeks after you arrived, you kept mostly to yourself, hidden away in a bedroom down the hall from Agatha’s. She rarely saw you outside of meals and the daily hour of practical study when you watched her brew or cast.

Otherwise, you were consumed by a minor mountain of assigned reading—mostly texts on the theory and history of spellcraft. Agatha had expected some resistance to this lesson plan. But you didn’t make a fuss, disappearing for hours at a time like a reclusive teenager, only coming downstairs when she reminded you to eat. Occasionally she saw you brewing tea, nose stuck in a book as you idly stirred the spoon, heavy with honey.

Then the weather changed and you started to emerge.

The first warm day in May, Agatha found you sitting at the kitchen table. A shaft of morning light framed you like a high-backed throne. You glanced up at her, lips quirked in a shy smile.

“Morning,” you said, eyes half-lidded in the gauzy glow.

It struck her suddenly that you were beautiful. Or maybe handsome was a better word, considering the serious set of your dark brows, the firm line of your jaw. But then there was the matter of your mouth—those full, pink lips. Agatha cleared her throat.

“Morning, pet.”

She busied herself at the kettle, putting those thoughts firmly out of her head.

Then an hour later she saw you in the living room, curled up on the far end of the sofa, positioned squarely in the sun path. She couldn’t resist teasing you.

“Two sightings in one day?”

Your mouth twisted to the side in another shy smile.

And later on she spotted you on the back porch, book propped against your knee, Senōr Scratchy sprawled beside you in the warmth of the glowing afternoon. Your eyes were closed, your breathing deep and even.

So maybe you weren’t a recluse. Maybe you were just…recovering, recharging. From what she didn’t know yet. But like a plant after the harsh winter months, you were finally ready to bloom, turning your petals toward the light.

Agatha had felt it then. The stirring of something fond, something soft for you.

She said nothing. But the next time you slipped out to sit on the porch, a large wicker loveseat had been placed on the lawn. You smiled, glancing around. The other witch was nowhere to be seen, of course.

In the weeks that followed, what began as an uneasy peace turned into something warm, domestic, almost quaint. Passed cups of coffee in the pre-dawn light. Murmured good nights as you both retired to bed.

You were guarded, still more than a little unsure of each other. But something was catalyzing between you in the quiet mornings, the peaceful evenings. It felt like…home.

And you should have known better than to trust it.

Your past caught up with you on the second floor of the local library. Agatha had assigned you some reading on lunar magic, and you were standing in the dusty stacks, charting moon cycles for the next six months.

She approached softly, with the kind of stealth that came second-nature to her after so many years spying and lying to survive. A fraction of a second before she spoke, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Hello, little dragon.”

She looked different than you remembered—less luster in her smile, a dimness in her dark, walnut-brown eyes. But there was no mistaking that voice.

The book you were holding slipped from your hands, pages fluttering like broken wings as it fell to the floor.

You breathed her name, throat tight with longing and heartbreak and outrage.

“Melina.”

You staggered backward. She opened her mouth, but you didn’t give her a chance to speak, flying down the stairs, out into the streets. You ran hard and fast, feet slapping the pavement, arms pumping up and down.

Your lungs were burning by the time you made it back to the house and stepped through the front door, latching it behind you—as if that would do any good.

Melina was the most clever, conniving woman you’d ever met. If she wanted to get in, she would. In fact, she had probably already been here.

The thought made your stomach swoop unpleasantly. Your eyes darted around, suddenly on high alert.

“Agatha?”

You pushed yourself away from the door, peeking into the empty kitchen, then the living room. There was no sign of the other woman. You called her name again, this time with more urgency as you opened the door to the basement.

Still nothing.

Now your heart was hammering with a different kind of adrenaline—the icy cold clutch of fear. Agatha was powerful, strong. But if Melina had caught her off guard…

You rounded the corner, jogging toward the stairs.

How could Melina be here, in this sleepy little town? What did she want? Where was Agatha?

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your head snapped up. Agatha had materialized from somewhere in the house, leaning against the bannister. You launched yourself into her arms without thinking.

“Easy, pet!” She caught you around the waist, steadying you. “What’s all this?”

You sagged against her momentarily, enjoying the solid feel of her body, the smell of tea leaves and spearmint that clung to her long dark tresses. It occurred to you suddenly that in all the weeks you’d lived here, you’d never really touched Agatha. Save for the few times your fingers had brushed at the brewing table, passing her ingredients. But not a proper embrace like this. It was…nice. She was warmer, softer than you imagined. Not that you had imagined….

You shook your head, disentangling yourself from her.

“Sorry,” you said, heart rate returning to normal. “I just…”

She arched an eyebrow at you, awaiting an explanation. You opened your mouth, suddenly uncertain where to begin, unwilling to drag the other woman into the terrible, tangled mess of your past.

“Well?” She tapped her long impatient fingers on the bannister, fixing you with a look of concern edging toward suspicion.   

“It’s nothing,” you said, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Just wanted to say…thank you, for opening your home to me. I’ve been…really happy here.”

Agatha studied you for several long seconds, frown deepening. “Now you’re really scaring me.”

You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck self-consciously as you maneuvered around her on the stairs toward your room, careful to avoid her curious gaze.

She watched you go, eyebrows drawn together in an elegant expression of doubt. “You sure you’re alright?”

You turned at the landing. Something tender and fierce cracked open in your chest at her words. Agatha was looking at you like more than just a drifter…like someone who mattered.

“Yeah,” you said. “Thanks.”

You closed the door to your room and immediately began pacing beside the bed, trying to formulate a plan of action.

First things first, protect Agatha. At all costs. You wanted to be sure that the shadow of your past never darkened her doorstep. Perhaps you could reason with Melina, find out what she wanted and then send her on her way.

It turns out you needn’t have bothered strategizing. As usual, Melina had already made your decision for you.

A piece of paper fluttered on your desk, caught in the breeze from the open window. You frowned. Hadn’t you left that window shut? You stared at the scrap of paper, comprehension dawning.

Picking it up with trembling fingers, you read the message that had been scribbled in neat sloping letters:

Midnight. Graveyard. Come alone.

————————

Agatha was curled up beside the fireplace, rather adorably dwarfed by the massive leather-bound book in her lap.

She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.

“And where are you going?” She regarded you cooly over the top of the pages as you descended the stairs with a practiced nonchalance.

“Three guesses,” you said, pretending to check your reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of your shirt, brushing back your hair. But your eyes darted toward the other woman, watching her expression for any reaction.

She caught your gaze and glared. “I don’t like games, pet.”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

You pulled on a coat, patting the breast pocket and withdrawing a pack of smokes.

You frowned. Only a few left.

“It’s almost midnight,” she pointed out, watching you place a cigarette between your lips, fiddling with your lighter. It was a weathered and worn thing, with several dents and scratches marring the silver relief on the side.

“I have to take care of something,” you said, aiming for casual. You just had to follow Melina’s instructions. With any luck, Agatha would never know she’d been here at all.

“How mysterious.” The older witch made an elaborate show of turning a page in her book, looking for all the world like nothing could interest her less.

“Don’t wait up.” You smiled softly at her, then disappeared out the front door.

Agatha pursed her lips, trying to focus on her reading. You’d been gone all of five minutes when she closed the book, standing up and peering into the fire.

You weren’t breaking any rules by leaving. You were free to come and go as you pleased.

And yet…

She didn’t like you wandering around on your own in the dark. You were a powerful witch, but young, reckless. And something was going on, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Her eyes flickered with the reflection of the flames. With a growl of frustratio, she stalked toward the front door, grabbed her traveling cloak, and fell into pursuit.

————————

There was only one graveyard in town. It was small, no more than a few acres, positioned directly behind the church. The border pressed up against the woodland, a dark wall of pine trees and shadows that you’d ventured into several times with Agatha, but never alone. Never at night.

You leaned against one of the stone monuments beside a family mausoleum. Above you, two angels were wrapped together in an agonized embrace, faces twisted in despair.

You flipped the collar of your jacket up against the chill breeze and pulled a deep drag off your cigarette.

“You promised me no more smoking, little dragon.”

Her voice in your ear was like velvet. You closed your eyes, barely suppressing a shiver.

“We promised each other a lot of things,” you said softly, turning to face her.

Melina swayed toward you, her expression unreadable in the moonlight. She looked just as beautiful now as the day you met her, stumbling upon her farm in the dead of winter. You’d been hopelessly drawn in by her sweet smile, her warm fire, her soft touch.

You wiped your eyes which had suddenly blurred with tears at the memory of simpler times, of a home that had broken your heart. Melina extended a hand, cupping your jaw. You wanted to yell, to push her aside, to fall into her arms. Instead you just stood there, mesmerized by the feeling of her thumb tracing a gentle path across your cheek, brushing away the damp tracks.

“I missed you too, milaya.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you leaned into her for touch for a second, allowing yourself to believe those words.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying not to sound so lost, so broken open by the sight of the other woman.

“I thought this would be obvious,” she shrugged. “I came to bring you back where you belong…with me.”

Her words gutted you.

“I don’t belong to you,” you said. “Not anymore.”

She stilled.

“Is this about the witch?” She asked suddenly, changing tactics. “She is quite attractive, I’ll give you that. But then you always had good taste.”

And she had the audacity to wink at you. Never mind the flutter you felt in your stomach, the painful swoop of longing and arousal and need.

“It has nothing to do with that,” you protested hotly. “She can teach me about my magic. And I’m…I’m happy here.”

Melina seemed to consider this, eyes searching your face.

“But she doesn’t care about you,” Melina said, underscoring her point with a rough pinch to your cheek.

“Oh and you do?” You sneered, finally wrenching yourself away. “All those months we spent together, I was nothing but a lab rat!”

You saw Melina flinch. “That’s not true.”

“You were drugging me!” The words exploded out of your mouth like a gunshot, their echo ringing around the empty graveyard. “Brainwashing me like one of your experiments, controlling me, putting thoughts in my head.”

You wondered if she would deny it.

Melina crossed her arms. “I did it to protect you.”

You paused. As much as you wanted to hate the other woman, it was tempting to believe there was some justifiable reason for her actions.

And you’d never given her a chance to explain, had run away from the farm as soon as you realized what was going on. It had taken nearly all your strength to break free from the serum. By the time you got to America, you were just beginning to fully come out of the fog.

“To protect me from what?”

Melina finally snapped. “From yourself!”

You blinked.

“You were so lost when you came to me,” she explained, and you could see the pain in her eyes as she remembered those early days. “I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t do something…dangerous. So yes, I used the serum as a way you keep you safe from harming yourself, when I had to leave you alone. It was merely a…precaution.”

You considered this.

“Chemical subjugation is quite a precaution,” you said flatly, not ready to forgive her. Not sure you ever could. So she had protected you…and ruined everything else.

“It was real,” she whispered, as if following your train of thought. Melina pulled you toward her, cupping your face in her hands. “Everything we had was real.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. ��How can I ever be sure of that? How can I ever believe you again?”

“Let me show you,” she said, desperation shining in her big brown eyes. “Come home.”

She laced her fingers between yours and squeezed softly. Reflexively you returned the pressure, dragging your thumb over her knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice thick with regret. “But I can’t. I don’t…I don’t trust you anymore.”

Melina sighed, resting her forehead against yours.

“I was hoping you would be reasonable,” she said. “But when has that ever been the case, hmm? My little dragon.”

She moved so quickly you barely had time to flinch.

“What are you do-“ you grunted in pain as the syringe sank into your neck.

Melina looked apologetic. “Sorry, detka,” she murmured. “You’ll thank me one day.”

You fisted the fabric of her shirt in both hands, attempting to shove her away. But you found your movements sluggish, clumsy as the serum flooded your nervous system.

It was like an old familiar program booting up in your brain. You wanted to scream, to rage, but there was an overriding command that drowned out all the rest of them. Obey.

You stumbled backwards, desperately trying to summon your magic. A ball of energy appeared in your palm, pale and silvery.

Melina looked impressed, surprised you were even able to manage that much considering the chemical cocktail singing through your bloodstream.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” she said, sounding unafraid.

“Don’t make me do this,” you said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to —.”

“I’ve made some refinements since you’ve been gone.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You can’t attack me.”

You directed your hands at the other woman. But nothing happened. The light in your hands dimmed as all hope drained away. She turned, beckoning with one finger.

“Come,” she called over her shoulder.

But still, you stood your ground. It was the thought of Agatha that kept you upright, fighting with every fiber of your being. The image of her sitting up in that ridiculous armchair by the fireplace, waiting for you. What would she think if you never came home? Would she blame herself?

A little frown of confusion played across Melina’s features as she glanced back, watching you resist. Sweat beaded on your brow, your muscles taut and trembling. Her eyes widened in surprise when you spoke. It shouldn’t have been possible…

“At least let me say goodbye to her,” you forced the words out through gritted teeth, the effort colossal.

Melina seemed to consider this request for a moment, then shook her head. “No. We have a plane to catch.”

You cried out in frustration, in agony.

“Do as I say,” she coaxed in that voice you loved, in that voice you hated. A shiver wracked its way through your body. “Don’t hurt yourself, little dragon.”

As if on cue, you felt a trickle of warm blood streaming from your nose. Fighting her like this was shredding your insides. It felt like your brain was on fire.

“Melina,” you sobbed, finally taking one wretched, uneven step forward. Tears streamed down your face. “Please.”

The dark-eyed woman frowned. She hated hurting you.

“It will all be better when we get home,” she said. “Now come to me.”

You felt your body drawn forward, legs moving without your consent, carrying you toward the other woman. But then—

“Are you deaf?” A familiar voice drawled, bouncing around the gravestones. “She said no.”

You looked left and right. Melina squared her shoulders, scanning the shadows as well.

Agatha appeared in a cloud of purple mist. She was hovering a few feet off the ground, cloak rippling behind her. She looked terrifying, magnificent, otherworldly. You cried her name in relief.

“Alright, pet?” She scanned you quickly, and you thought you saw a flicker of something tender. But then her attention was back on Melina, eyes flinty and cold.

“So this is the one you choose,” Melina said, not bothering to conceal the hurt in her voice. “Very dramatic, very American. What can she offer you, teach you that I cannot?”

Agatha smirked. “Some manners, for a start. Around here, we let women make their own decisions.”

With a wave of her hand, she threw Melina into the air. The scientist hit the ground hard, but rolled gracefully and somehow landed on her feet. She wiped a trickle of blood off her forehead, a dark glimmer of rage in her eyes.

“You think you are only one with magic trick?”

You realized what was about to happen and tried to warn Agatha. But then the Russian called your name in a deep, commanding voice and your entire world shrank to her lips, her mouth, the utter simplicity of her next irrefutable words.

“Stop breathing.”

You felt your body comply almost instantly. It was like your lungs were a machine and the plug had been pulled from the wall. Your chest stilled, abandoning the breath you’d been inhaling.

“Now then,” Melina said calmly, dusting dirt from her coat. “Let’s discuss our options.”

You clutched at your throat, opening your mouth to gulp at the air. Agatha quickly summoned her magic, preparing to attack Melina once more.

“Let her go.”

“Ah, ah, careful now,” Melina cautioned. “If I don’t verbally counter the command in the next two minutes, she suffocates. And I can’t do that if I’m…indisposed.”

You made a soft choking nose, real panic setting in. Agatha teleported to your side, catching you around the waist as you sank to your knees.

“You’re alright,” she murmured, feeling helpless. You gripped her arm, writhing in discomfort as your lungs screamed for air. “You’re alright.”

The Russian watched this interaction through narrowed eyes. She observed the way Agatha held you, soothed you. And she waited, patiently, calculating exactly how many seconds you had left.

Agatha glanced up at Melina, eyes stormy with rage.

“Stop this,” the witch said in a rough, jagged voice. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

Melina smiled. Finally, she stalked forward, kneeling on your other side. Agatha stiffened, tightening her grip on your hips, waiting to see what the other woman would do.

“Always so stubborn, my little dragon.” Melina placed a hand on your face. The lack of oxygen was making your head fuzzy, a dull roaring in your ears. “Go to sleep now, that’s it.”

“You’re killing her!” Agatha shouted, voice cracking with fear, eyes wide and wild with barely restrained panic. It was the last thing you heard, the last thing you saw before the darkness took you under.

As soon as your eyes rolled back, Melina reversed the command with a murmur, ensuring you could breathe again. Then she looked up into Agatha’s face.

“So it’s true,” Melina said, observing the other woman. “She’s yours.”

Her tone was conciliatory, like she was forfeiting a game of chess.

“She isn’t a prize to be won,” snarled Agatha, still clutching your body tight enough to bruise.

“No indeed, she’s made her choice,” Melina agreed sadly. “My brave, brave girl.”

She pushed your hair back then stood, looking down at the pair of you. Agatha might have been another one of the statues in the cemetery, a dark angel cradling her fallen charge.

“And now you need to make yours.”

Agatha flexed her fingers to keep from wrapping them around the other woman’s throat. “And what choice is that?”

“To keep her safe, to protect her,” Melina said the words like a prayer—sacred, holy.

Agatha swallowed, glancing down at your slackened features, your slightly parted lips. The sound of your labored breathing echoed around the quiet graveyard.

“If this is your idea of protection,” Agatha said. “I’d hate to get on your bad side.”

Melina had the decency to glance away, briefly chastised.

“Question my methods but never my motives,” she said. “What I do, I do from love.“

Agatha stiffened. “Love,” she repeated harshly. “Is that what you call it?”

Melina didn’t back down. “I need to know you will keep her safe,” she hissed. “She’s special, more powerful than she knows. And she’s been hurt. Badly. By her family, by…by me.”

Agatha could see the words cost her something to admit. And not for the first time, her curiosity was piqued about your past. What desperate circumstances had brought you to the doorstep of the infamous Agatha Harkness, the covenless witch?

“These wounds run deep,” Melina continued. “She’ll need someone by her side. For guidance. Counsel. Comfort.”    

They stared at each other, each sizing the other up, each refusing to back down. Two apex predators circling, snarling. And between them, a cub.

“Do we understand each other?” Melina asked.

Finally, Agatha inclined her head.

“Say it,” the Russian whispered, eyes glittering in the moonlight.

Agatha glanced down at you, swallowing the lump in her throat. “She belongs to me.”

Melina exhaled, shoulders softening. She approached one last time, reaching into her pocket. Agatha drew back, casting a protective shield.

“Relax,” Melina said dryly, withdrawing a glass vial and offering it to Agatha. “The counteragent.”

She considered Melina, mistrust in every fiber of her being. But she lowered the shield, reached for the vial.

“And understand this, witch,” Melina said, refusing to release her grip on the small glass tube until Agatha had looked her in the eye. “If you hurt her, there’s no curse you can cast, no spell you can weave that will keep you safe from me.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Agatha’s face.

“Likewise,” she growled, snatching the vial out of Melina’s hand and administering it immediately. You stirred, inhaling the red mist and coughing weakly.

With a final, longing look at your face, the Russian turned and disappeared into the night.

—————-

You blinked, awareness coming back slowly. The first thing you realized was that you were exhausted, more tired than you’d ever been in your life. The second thing you realized was that someone was holding you, warm arms encircling your waist, long fingers clutching your hip.

“She belongs to me.”

Agatha?

The words sounded far away, but you could feel the rumble of her voice against your chest.

The claim made you smile. Or it would have, if you were fully awake and not tired down to your very bones. As it was, the edges of your lips faintly quirked upward. But who was she talking to? You drifted off again.

“The counteragent.”

This new voice also sounded familiar. It filtered into your foggy brain, taking a few minutes to click.

Melina. You inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open. The moon had finally broken through the clouds, casting a bright silvery glow on the ground.

“There you are.”

Your vision swam, but you were able to focus on Agatha’s face. She looked worried.

“Hi,” you said softly, glancing around. “Did we win?”

“The battle, if not the war.”

You coughed. ��Why does my mouth taste like anti-freeze?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, wagering a guess. “The antidote?”

“Blech,” you said, smacking your lips. “Needs a flavor enhancer.”

“Well unfortunately your little friend is gone,” Agatha smirked. “So you’ll have to share your feedback via mail.”

“‘Kay.” You smiled, feeling dizzy. “My head hurts.”

“A side effect of whatever she drugged you with,” Agatha murmured, eyes sweeping over your face with renewed concern. “What else?”

You tried to sit up, but Agatha held you in place.

“Wait,” she said, running her hands over your shoulders, your chest, your ribs. Her eyes fluttered closed, like she was listening for something.

“What are you doing?” Not that you were complaining. The gentle pressure of her fingertips was far from unwelcome.

“Looking for internal injuries.” She pressed her lips into a thin, disapproving line. “You pushed your magic to its limits tonight.”

“Is that what this is?” You slumped against her, snuggling into her body heat. “Feels like I got hit by a train.”

Agatha didn’t laugh. “You could have done serious damage with that little stunt.”

“Stunt?” You repeated faintly, too tired to be properly outraged at this mischaracterization. “She was trying to kidnap me, I had to do something!”

Agatha hummed, leaning back. She reached out, wiping the blood from your upper lip.

“What’s the prognosis?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll live.”

“Good,” you sighed. “Now let’s go home.”

She pulled you to your feet, watching every movement like a hawk. You were unsteady, swaying a little. Agatha looped an arm around your waist.

“Tell me, pet,” she said as you limped toward the cemetery gates together. “You have a thing for brunettes?”

Your eyebrows shot up. Agatha elaborated.

“First, you and the Russian…” she said. “Now you and me.”

You and me. The words sparked something warm and lovely in your chest. You licked your lips, giving a shrug. “It’s a long story.”

She gave you a sideways look. “We’ve got time.”

A reluctant smile danced across your features, and the sound of your soft laughter echoed in the graveyard.

“Alright then.” You paused, patting your breast pocket. “I’ll give you the abridged version.”

You shook the last cigarette out of your pack, flicked the lighter against your pants, then brought it to your lips.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who had magical powers,” you began, taking a long drag. “She was very lonely for many years, and very misunderstood…”

“Doesn’t sound like a story with a happy ending,” Agatha murmured, helping you navigate an uneven part of the path that had been broken by roots. You looked over, considering her in the pale moonlight. She caught your gaze and stilled for a moment.

“What?” She asked gruffly.

You offered her the cigarette. Agatha gave you a reproachful look, then plucked it from your fingers, taking a small irritated puff. You grinned.

“We’ll see about that happy ending,” you said softly, turning to continue onward. “We’ll see.”

[milqueandsugar]

i dont know if you write male reader but!!! can i have a m!reader x eddie? im thinking something a bit more suggestive with eddie being praised and giving up some control. (i think most de! characters could benefit from some dom/sub dynamics)

— 🦇 (expect many asks)

🌼☕` Your Tea Is Ready ☕🌼

Warnings; NSFW content,MDNI

A/N; i absolutely write for M!Reader i default to gender neutral but having a specified gender helps when writing smut or suggestive work

You were terribly lucky that Eddie was a betting man. You were totally, entirely certain that you'd wither before you'd ever get Eddie on his knees, that was until he lost. It was a wager for the entertainment, whoever guessed who would come for the night would get a favor from the other. Originally you were just going to get him to make a few free drinks for you, though after almost an hour of him playing with a plastic straw in his drinks you decided you had far better uses for him. And his mouth.

"Fuck, that's it, just like that." Your voice is near drowned out by the band on stage, the bass line making your head thump, or that very well could be your own heart beat pounding in your cranium. Eddie let's out a slight grunt of acknowledgement, his eyes half lidded as he swallowed you down another inch. He worked the rest of you lazily, not disinterested, but not in any hurry to undo you. Your head falls back hard against the door of the maintenance closet, loud enough for someone to hear if Johnny Splash wasn't belting some melancholic love song at the very moment. You were seldom happy to see him on stage, now you were praying he'd continue for an encore. Eddie's gaze hardened as your hand slid into his wirey hair, though his tense shoulders laxed slightly as you massaged his scalp.

"Come on, you can take a little more yeah?" You were breathless, chest coming in mouthfuls that dried your bitten lips. His hand slid from were it gathered your jeans to slide further up your thigh a sharp shock making your muscles tense then relax all at once. You likely near bit through your lip, the coppery taste of blood flooding your senses.

"Impatient," Eddie licked along a bruising bite mark on your hip, his hand rolling over your flushed tip.

"Mm, you're good at this, can't blame me." You coo, Eddie let's out a low groan.

"Oh God your still talking." He didn't have to worry about much more noise coming from you however as the air was ripped from your lungs as he wrapped his lips around you once more, dragging his tongue along the bottom of your shaft as he worked his way down your length. His throat tightened around your intrusion but he didn't gag. The bastard didn't even have a gag reflex he was just working you up earlier, had you a thought left in your head you would have called him out. Now however you were trying your best not to buck up into his wet mouth as he worked a steady, yet still to slow for your liking, pace.

While customers usually slowed around the bar during the live music it would soon be picking up pace once they closed out for the night, objects looking to get their last drinks in before final call. Too bad the bartender was a little preoccupied at the moment.

"So fucking good, Ed, don't stop you're- so good for me-" You let out a rather undignified moan as the hand once on your length traveled downward to cup your balls. Your hand tightened in his hair on reflex, his tightened as a warning. One that only made you moan a bit higher. With the notes you were hitting you were beginning to think you should sign up for the live music next. A few whistles and a raise in applause told you immediately the show was closing out. Fuck, you were definitely going to get caught, people certainly noticed when the drink provider was gone. While you could, probably, live with the public humiliation you would sooner walk into oncoming traffic than give Volt THAT ammunition. You let out a shuddering groan, truly having to make an effort to be quiet now that the music was cut. You pushed your hips forward, sliding down his throat with a sinful, wet sound that near made your legs buckle. Your free hand moves to brace yourself against the opposing wall as you curl forward slightly, rolling your hips into his mouth.

" 'm close, I'm so close, Eddie please, you can get me there- so- so good so-!" You choke out a gasp as you thrust down his willing throat, rambling only slightly coherently. You took to biting your tongue once more, when you gathered the strength to open your eyes your face warmed with an onslaught of a blush. Although not looking entirely pleased with you he moved his head in tandem of you wanton thrusts, drool gathered on his chin and dripping down in thick, sticky strings. That was an image that was going to keep you company at night, and day, and any other time you ever looked at him again. You were present of mind enough to pull out before spilling all over the floor, dripping thick white release onto his thighs.

Eddie pressed a kiss to your thigh, damn you didn't even remember him giving you that bite. "Gotta get back to work, Livewire." He mumbled against your skin, his voice thick and gravely and so inticing it could almost make you spent cock twitch, almost.

"Yeah." You manage after a moment, stepping, or truly faling back to give him room to stand. He grabs your discarded shirt from the floor, you think at first to offer it back to you but instead he drags it across his face, wiping the spit and pre from his chin and lips onto the fabric before pushing it against your chest. "I'm going to be here, for a while probably." You nod, tucking yourself back inside your spit stained jeans, if you pulled your shirt down over top it would look stupid but not more stupid that having drool stains on your jeans.

He goes for the door, pausing a moment to pull you by the face into a quick kiss. Though not lacking in any passion given by the tease of his teeth against your lip. "Take your time." His voice was softer, not any less wrecked but tinged with affection as his eyes took in your wrecked form.

"Mhmm," You nose against his cheek, his stubble scratching your skin. "I liked that, this, you're fucking good with your mouth." You praise, pulling back with a peck to his cheek.

"I know, I have your like all over my fucking shoes."

[deliajackson]

Snippet of a fic I will never write

"I... I've thought a lot about what you said," Apollo finally spoke after standing at that door in silence for quite some time.

Rhea lifted her eyes from the kitchen counter of her house, where she’d been toying with an orange—the cabin her father, Poseidon, had remodeled to look like a summer home.

"...And?"

"You know… for someone who was terrible at all my domains, you sure have a poetic way of saying you love me, Rhea. I’m flattered, by the way." The joke was weak. Rhea’s hand squeezed the orange so hard she felt the juice press against the peel.

"...Apollo..." Rhea began.

"I'm not a good man," Apollo interrupted. He rarely sounded solemn in all the time she’d known him, but now he did. "I’m not even a man, to begin with. Even if my father somehow made me… 'human.' I'm not really. This—this flesh?" Apollo gestured to himself, running a hand down his arm. "It’s clay he molded and confined me in, stripping me of who—what—I am."

"...I know that..."

"I know you do." Apollo interjected firmly. "You're smarter than people give you credit for, you always have been, and I’m not going to treat you like you’re not." Rhea bit her lip. He was one of the first to ever say that. Annabeth had always treated her like she was an idiot, and often, too many people agreed with her.

"I'm made of essence, Rhea. I was born and have existed for millennia. I was there when the first humans crawled from the mud. I was there when the Hellenes raised their first cities. I was there when Troy fell, when Alexander raised his army and invaded Hellas, when Plato twisted us into moral models, and when Socrates died. I saw the birth of Rome—and its fall. I saw Christ’s crucifixion and watched our temples crumble and fall when Christianity began its crusades. I saw humans cross the seas to the land you now call America. I saw Napoleon conquer Europe—and part of Egypt. I stood in the hall when he declared himself emperor. I witnessed the birth of the British Empire, the two Great Wars, and everything up to today. I have my hands on every page of history. As the God of Civilization, I was there—for better or for worse."

"What's the point you're trying to make, Apollo?"

When people say the worst someone can say is no, they’re lying.

"I'm saying I’ve done unspeakable things, Rhea. Some because I had to, yes—to keep the balance of the Cosmos, which is my duty—but many others? I did them because I was bored. Some out of pure sadism. Others just because I could."

"I know. I know the myths—not all, but enough..."

"The myths aren’t entirely true. And they’re only the tip of the iceberg. Many were lost because they were never recorded." Apollo shook his head. "And you might know them, but you didn’t live them. I’m not insulting your intelligence, Rhea. Just stating that the full weight of their cruelty escapes you." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "And out of selfishness, I hope it stays that way. Because despite your frankly terrible temper," he added with a soft snort, "you are a good person."

"I'm not..."

"You are." He repeated, his blue eyes softening as he stepped closer. "I don’t say this lightly. Most people... they aren’t good or bad. They have moments of empathy, of cruelty, and pettiness. But at the end of the day, they’re neutral. That’s humanity. But you, Rhea, you are inherently good. A few moments of cruelty don’t erase the rest of the whole."

"You could’ve just said you weren’t interested, you know?" she muttered, annoyed. Apollo blinked, then let out a small laugh. A tiny tsunami stirred in Rhea’s chest, her hands clenching into fists.

"That’s not funny! I..."

"Rhea." He interrupted, placing a hand over her closed fist, finally exhaling. His face was flushed from laughing, half disbelieving. "I was willing to stay mortal for you."

Her anger vanished as fast as it came, and her eyes widened like two coins.

"W-What?" Apollo exhaled softly, stepping closer, his other hand brushing her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t noticed falling.

"I was willing to give up my divinity," he repeated slowly, almost amused by the absurdity. "To live and grow... old." He snorted. "with you."

"...I... I..." Rhea was speechless. Apollo loved being a god. He loved it. It was who he was.

"I’d never ask that of you… You are who you are." she whispered.

"That’s exactly why I’d do it for you," he replied gently, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. "Do you remember the first time I saw you?"

"...On the train? Fred?"

"No." Apollo chuckled softly. "On Hephaestus’ TV. The Tunnel of Love."

Rhea grimaced.

"That?" she muttered.

"I was intensely curious. Among my many domains, prophecy was always… one of my favorites, you could say." He shrugged. "When I heard Poseidon had a forbidden child, I immediately wanted to know who. The Great Prophecy swirled around you. I remember seeing you and Annabeth in that ride, thinking you might die there. That the prophecy would shift to someone else. Another child." He snorted. "Then you screamed at her to jump. From a speeding cart. And you both survived."

"Funny how those were the simpler times."

"Being accused of stealing from the King of the Gods was... more peaceful, certainly." Apollo seemed terribly amused with irony. "And then I really saw you, when you entered Olympus."

"I didn’t see you that day." Apollo didn’t seem impressed with her statement.

"Of course you didn’t. You were all running around like lunatics, not paying attention to anything. But you were small then, and your fate lines were... foggy. I was fascinated. It’s why I sent you on ridiculous quest after ridiculous quest" — he echoed her words from a week ago, sounding genuinely amused — "all throughout your middle and high school. You were fun. Especially when I watched you biting your tongue, furious, trying not to curse me out like an especially grumpy kitten."

Rhea narrowed her eyes. Not impressed. But biting her tongue again. Apollo laughed softly. She probably had the same grumpy kitten face he liked so much. Gods, why did he fall for him again?

"Ha ha."

"Sorry about that."

"You're not sorry."

"I’m sorry for putting you in danger. But not for annoying you." Apollo declared with a huff. Then, more softly: "Rhea. What I’m saying is... I’ll do everything I can to heal you."

"...Apollo."

"Listen to me." Apollo said. "I’ll do everything. I’m the God of Healing, Rhea. There’s practically nothing I can’t fix. Even if souls aren’t my specialty, I’ll find a way once I get my divinity back."

Rhea looked away, but Apollo gently turned her face, not letting her eyes escape his. His gaze was so intense, so determined.

"And if you can’t?" she asked softly, hating how fragile her voice sounded. "What if it’s too late?"

"...Then I’ll never forget you," he declared, solemn and final. "Not that I think forgetting you is possible. Even if I hadn’t fallen in love with you—you’re still a living legend, my love. But according to our culture—my culture..." he corrected himself, "you’ll live on as long as someone remembers you. And I will remember you, for all my days, until every star in the sky burns out. I’ll remember you."

"...Apollo..." Rhea tried. Their foreheads were touching now, his arm around her waist. The orange had long been forgotten on the counter. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling that false heart pumping ink-like blood beneath her fingers. Ba-thump, ba-thump.

"You’ll never be forgotten, Rhea. I’ll carve you in stone and ink. Your legend will outlast millennia. They’ll know the warrior you were, how your heart was strong and kind. The leader and the strategist. How power flowed through your veins like a river. Your victories and feats."

His hand rose to her cheek, eyes never leaving hers — soul to soul.

"But not just that. They’ll know your love for blue cookies, your kindness and your compassion. They’ll know you baked to deal with stress. That you love skating and horseback riding. That you took time to help dryads, naiads, and sea animals caught in nets. They’ll remember how you struggle to go from E to A in any instrument you try to play."

Tears welled in Rhea’s eyes.

"They’ll know how your eyes shine and the dimple that appears when your smile is real. They’ll know how you put others first, and how I love and hate that about you." Apollo continued softly. "I will remember you, and I will make the world remember you. As long as your memory remains—you will never truly die. I swear to you, on the Styx. On my ichor. On all my domains. I will remember you."

Tears streamed down Rhea’s cheeks like little rivers as they shared the same breath. It was instinct that pulled her closer—hands rising to his neck, then his hair, before their lips met in a desperate dance.

His arm tightened around her, the hand on her cheek moved to her nape.

It wasn’t enough to express what she felt, but words wouldn’t do justice either. After a moment that felt far too short, they pulled apart, sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat—green eyes locked with blue, a moment that felt like eternity, before Rhea rested her head beneath Apollo’s chin.

"...Now I finally get where the title ‘God of Poetry’ came from." she joked, trying to hide the vulnerability.

Apollo let out a soft laugh into her hair.

[athena-the-undestructible]

Time to finally explain my new OCs

Well to start, I have a duo of characters

The first is a sniper who acts stoic at a distance, doesn't interact much with others and barely thinks about the fact that she's killing other people, it's just a job to her and she will rarely question what she is doing.

Up close she gets really nervous since she's not got any people skills and doesn't want to give the wrong information to the wrong person, plus her fighting style isn't very good up close so she prefers to stay away.

The second is a Knife Wielder with both stabbing and throwing skills. She's got great people skills and can manipulate them slightly and she greatly enjoys the act of killing others.

However she's very oblivious to anything that isn't immediately around her and in general is unable to grasp the bigger picture and of course her knifes are allergic to anything long range.

These two are supposed to be foils to each other although I still gotta develop them a bit like giving them names and more reason to dislike each other.

There is also a story I'm trying to construct around these characters although that's very work in progress and I haven't even got a proper idea of what the latter half or end looks like.

The basic premise is that these two kill each other at the beginning of the story, however both of them wake up the next day as if they'd only suffered a slight injury and a job listing they've both taken without remembering.

So they'll have to work together and it's not going to make them reconcile in any way, these two will still hate each others but in some different angles maybe.

They will also work with two others during these jobs.

The first I'll mention is a woman who wields a revolver and dressed like an MiB agent. She's been doing these mysterious job listings for longer and believes in some overall grand scheme that connects all of these.

She's initially supposed to give off mysterious vibes like maybe she did used to be an agent and she knows more than she lets on although this is supposed to be torn away as the plot moves forwards.

She doesn't have any more information than the other two but unlike them who don't think much further than what's happening to them, she's trying to piece together the grand scheme that she believes she's part of .

Her intense desire to be part of something important and her idealism is also why she has the secret agent theme despite never being part of any secret services.

And then we have the other one, the transgender robot I mentioned in a previous post.

So her cover "story" is being an assassin so dedicated to her career that she invested in cybernetics to improve her skill and become more efficient.

This is a total lie and quite the opposite, she's really a combat android who's been using her earnings to gain the appearance of humanity (hense the whole transgender part since she definitely wasn't a girl before).

She's also the total opposite of agent in that she has zero stakes in these missions and her enthusiasm goes as far as her payment.

This includes her inability to die like humans do which will be relevant and means she can just fuck off at any time.

Anyway that's all of them, I still haven't come up with their names (Once I can't make puns, I start to struggle) so maybe people could suggest them but I hope you enjoy these character concepts and would like to see me develop them.

My brain is also currently falling apart so I may have got something wrong, anyway that's all for now.