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hannieehaee · 5 months

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ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

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endless-ineffabilities · 4 months

Text

chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

💌 part two - part three

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

#ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader

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moondirti · 1 year

Text

animalic (1)

series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 1.9k summary: he won't stop until he gets you warnings: enemies to lovers, injuries, kissing, minor ATSV spoilers, size kink (?), mentions of gore and death, not spell checked nor edited, honestly not my best work but the horny is all that matters notes: stayed up all night for this because i had to get it out of my system before finals. there'll be a few more parts, i promise i'm not this cruel haha

“I thought grace was a prerequisite for your little spider-club.”

Your quip sounds disjointed – even to your own ears – entwined with wheezes that rattle your splintered rib cage. In all honesty, the circumstances don’t seem to be favouring you; he’s got you confined upon the wreckage of your own fight, hanging off the remnants of a crane that dangerously tips over a quarry. And though this isn’t the worst you’ve faced, Miguel’s presence always seems to make things more complicated than they need to be.

You’d had a stable hold on the beam, ready to pull yourself up and dematerialise to wherever he wasn’t. Until, of course, the asshole kicked your elbows off. Now, your fingers remain as your only attachment to the structure, shaking violently with their diminishing strength. Your torso isn’t faring any better, either – the bleeding both internal and trickling from the gashes in your hoodie.

(You wonder if he’s toying with you, like a panther with its food. Of the rare times he’s assigned another spiderman to pursue you, they didn’t tend to drag it out for this long.

But, you suppose, Miguel’s different.)

He takes a small step forward, lifting his foot over your digits. He could crush them like this, turn the bone to powder and keep pressing until it macerates in the gore. You can’t put it past him, really, not if you utter one more self-sabotaging word. You’ve seen him rip through steel and silk alike, fueled on the resentment that simmers deep within his very essence. Yours is merely the same fate that’s befallen every other obstacle that’s dared to come his way.

But the tension buzzes between you two, thickening until it’s palpable enough to taste. Miguel is quiet as ever, completely still save for the flickering light of his dimensional travel watch. You envy his position – that resolute stature, brimful of power as his shoulders square, his calf rippling with subdued strength, still stretched over your hand. You blame that, or the mask, slick with sweat and humid as it sticks to your nose. Or the glasses that slowly slip to reveal your squinting eyes. You blame anything apart from what it is; that fear that steadily begins to flood your senses, numbing it all into one, cohesive panic.

You’ve never been good at life or death scenarios.

“Or, maybe, the big boss thinks he can break his own rules?”

The air snaps. With an infuriated roar, he lunges at you, razor-sharp talons swiping at your face. In your frenzied dunk to avoid them, your fingers drop.

You plunge to the bottomless chasm below.

Okay. Let’s try to get this right, one last time.

Your name doesn’t matter. It hasn’t, not for a while now.

For the past year, you’ve been on the run from the Spider Society. You don’t exactly blame them for it, either. Every world you’ve crashed has gone to shit, despite serious lack of trying. Food-barren wastelands, borderless warzones. Truthfully, after the mantle of Earth 7BB-1 convected in on itself, you were inclined to turn yourself in.

Independant of the fact that Nueva York seems to be the only place you can’t fuck up. Regardless of the relatability you have with the residents of its lobby. You were bitten by a radioactive spider just the same, and for all the good you’ve tried to do, you’ve never been a spider-hero. If it meant that no one else got hurt, you really would have been able to cope with lifetime confinement.

(Greater good and all that.)

Would’ve. Could’ve. If it weren’t for Miguel O’Hara’s interjection, and his goddamn alternative solution, things just might have turned out that way.

You’re not dead.

The realisation whips your consciousness into high alert, eyes snapping open to survey your surroundings. You process the light first, its brilliance piercing through the bromine-doused cotton that stuffs your skull. Then, it’s the pain that, up until this point, had been thrumming in the background. It crackles, marrow-deep, tearing down the tendons in your shoulders to the throbbing area around your ribs. They’re in doubtlessly worse shape than they had been at the quarry, the ache searing across to engulf your spine too.

He had let you fall on your back, that dickhead.

But–

You’re not dead.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out why that is.

A red forcefield entraps you, droning its monotonous hum, partially obscuring everything beyond your own reflection. You can see the faint impression of a silhouette – no, multiple – stalking you on the other end, a great shadow court. They warp and grow with every passing second, gorging on your offered vulnerability, awaiting some wordless signal from the harbinger of death, to execute justice upon the one who’s been causing them so much trouble. Jess Drew. Hobie Brown. Ben Reilly.

(They’d been more forgiving, once. Willing to negotiate peace, to treat you more than the screw up you’ve proven to be.

His voice overrode theirs. Always.)

It’s easier to make out the devil himself – more so than the others. You’ve come to memorise the slope of those shoulders, how his fists clench at his sides as he circles you. You imagine the smug set of his jaw and those eyes, just as luminous as the cage you curl within. The puck at the base is recognisable, akin to the capture weapons he’s thrown at you previously. He’d saved your life, then.

On a technicality. You’ll bury that thought to rage over later.

“How–”

The question hardly forms before you’re ripped in two, the atoms of all but your spirit splicing into one another in a defect of blue and orange. The glitch exacerbates the fractures that threaten to knock you out, racking through your system as it rearranges your matter into amorphous forms. It’s only when something is thrown into the enclosure do you snap back to. A bracelet clatters to the floor.

“Didn’t know whether you’d be used to the glitching yet.” A disembodied voice remarks. It’s at a particularly whiny pitch – you assign it to Ben.

“We… tried to get it on you, kid. But you–” A feminine inflection crops up. Jess sounds the same since the last you spoke.

You glower at them from the corner of your eye – unsure if they can actually see you – and snap the day pass on. Your spectral abilities were handy at the best of times; to shift from the corporeal, coming into immateriality, makes the most complicated situations evadeable. You credit it for your continued survival, if nothing else. Yet to speak like you could control it, especially while unconscious, was pushing it. You clearly weren’t able to activate it when you needed it the most.

And now you’re here.

“I’m not going to ask what you want, so let’s keep this short– y-yeah? Either you let me go, or this Earth’ll be the next to unravel.” Despite your intentions, the demand escapes you in a long-winded croak. You hear Hobie snicker, the laugh teetering the edge of approval. Anyone can tell the promise has no foundation.

“That won’t be happ–”

“Leave us.”

The room clips into white noise. You fail to focus on anything but that echoing order.

His voice comes across clearer than all else, too, cadence resonating past any natural boundary, tugging your heart right where it’s tender. There’s that fear again, that singular dread, only ever triggered by his indifference. Perhaps more potent than fury, his patience gives away an all-assured determination. Deadly.

You bite your cheek, steeling your expression into one of similar apathy. It feels like a child’s attempt at dress up, grubby hands clutched around mother’s lipstick, painting on a clown’s complexion. Crackling apprehension brushes across your most vulnerable parts; layer by layer, you’re skinned as the group files out. Bare nerves are all that’s left for your faceoff with the hulking man.

He throws another puck to the floor. His own forcefield conjoins to yours.

His cheeks have gotten hollower, you notice, emphasising the cheekbones that are just as keen as everything else about him. He offers no smile, no grand boast of victory. Instead, he breathes – calmly, fixedly, and lets you absorb the overwhelming magnitude of his size once more. He’s aware of what it strikes in you, can see it in the way you falter upon every reintroduction. Miguel is colossal, a reality that has never been more apparent than in this cramped enclosure.

You know that if you stop to ponder it, it’ll ruin you.

Rearing on your heels, you bounce from your place on the ground, making a grab for his watch. He anticipates it, having caught the decision blaze in your pupils, and side steps, pivoting to gain the upper hand while your back is still turned. You rebound off the field wall, stumbling back when he yanks you by your hoodie. Your shoulder presses into his chest, and he moves to wrap himself around your form.

Your skin prickles. His body passes right through you.

His recovery time is nearly nonexistent relative to your last fight – quick learner – but you’re still swift on your feet, bolting to his watch again. It’s a millisecond too slow, for his talons sink into your forearm when you start to pull away.

Your pained yelp loses momentum as he slams your back against the wall, using a knee to pin your other arm in place, his free hand wrapping around your neck.

He’s close. Too close. Your stomach flips, pushing up on your oesophagus until you choke with the bile that sears its lining. Your breaths are as deep enough as his clutch will allow, index and thumb cutting off the circulation on both sides of your neck.

Ichor blooms from the puncture points at your wrist, the warmth puddling at your palm, not yet heavy enough to drip down onto the floor. You don’t think he realises how deep his claws are, how near he is to scratching bone. You don’t think you do, either. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, and while you’re sure you’ll regret not prioritising it sooner, you don’t think– Don’t think–

“I-I’m not goi…going home,” You gasp.

“It’s not up to you, Wraith.” Miguel growls, chokehold loosening.

It hits you, then. Animalic. He smells addictingly animalic. Like musk, a blend of brine and hot air and hints of a patchouli aftershave that still clings to his jaw. Your eyes flutter, seeking all you can get of the latter. Unwittingly, you move in closer.

You haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time.

His expression oscillates between a sneer and a grimace, nose pulling up to reveal the very pointed ends of his two canines. Set side by side with plush lips, you zero in on the thought of experiencing the contrast with your own.

He’s huge.

Closer.

Completely overwhelms you, in size and presence and–

Closer.

Your ribs ache. Your back groans. You’re quickly losing feeling in your fingers, and movement – soon – if you don’t do something.

Your breath weaves with his. He doesn’t reciprocate when your lips brush, but he doesn’t pull away, either.

You kiss him for longer than you should. Longer than you need to. It’s firm, and not unlike what you expected.

(World-shattering, all the same.)

Your skin prickles. It takes all of your rationale to pull away – dematerializing out of his grasp, and into the portal you’d activated from his wrist.

chapter 2 →

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tibby-art · 3 months

Note

i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au

crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut

=+=

Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.

Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.

Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.

“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”

“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”

“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”

Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.

“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”

The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.

“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.

“So… those aren’t your keys?”

Cub and Scar just grinned at her.

“….This is our stop,” Grian said.

The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.

“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”

“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”

Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.

“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.

“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.

“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”

Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.

The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?

“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”

“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”

“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.

“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”

“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.

“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”

“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”

“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”

“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”

The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”

“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”

“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”

“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”

“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.

“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”

Grian’s eyes widened.

“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”

“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?

Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.

“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.

“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.

Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.

“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.

“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.

“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.

“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”

“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”

“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Oh my god, Scar.”

“What?”

“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”

“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“

“Watchers.”

Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.

“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.��

#please excuse my rusty writing abilities #convexian hitman au #grian #goodtimeswithscar #sketchbook #art tag #desert duo

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jolapeno · 8 months

Text

1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Grey?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Give hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories

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letshavedeernnertogether · 2 months

Text

Bloodlust

the plot is: it's becoming problematic to stay in the hotel for a hungry vampire like you, but alastor knows how to help you

part 1, part 2

words ≈ 8k

warnings: smut, blood and gore, so much blood, mention of animal death, biting and licking of blood and just licking, bj, kinda intoxication, hallucinations, size difference (reader is a short vampire), grammar or spelling mistakes

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

“I think you better not ban her from eating,” Commented Angel, not taking away his eyes from the screen of his phone.

“Angel, her food is blood. She tortures and kills to get it. ” Vaggie tiredly massaged her temples, “It goes against the rules of the Hotel, you can't hurt anyone.”

“Then why is she even here?” He threw up the lowest section of his arms, looking up at Vaggie.

“Because she needed it!” Charlie interrupted.

The princess would always remember how she met you. You came to the hotel late at night, when Charlie couldn't fall asleep, trying to find the answers to the questions of redemption. You rushed into the hall red-handed. Blood was on your face, hands, clothes. It dripped from your mouth and claws, staining the carpet. Your eyes were wide with fear, and you came up to the frightened princess, grabbed her hands with yours covered in blood and pronounced, stuttering, “You… can change me?”

You had just gone down to hell then. You didn't understand your nature, didn't know why you were always thirsty, didn’t know why you had insomnia. And you wanted to change, wanted to become yourself again. That's why after your first murdering, that you didn't even remember clearly, you ran to the place from the commercial. The place that promised you the second chance.

That first murdering was gross. That she-demon looked so… appetising. And it was your third day in hell, your hunger grew with every minute but you couldn't find any food that your organism wouldn't reject. But seeing her blushing chubby cheeks, that little pulsing vein on her neck, you thought that she was made just for your sharp fangs.

Greedy pouncing on her, you sank your teeth in her throat, squeezed her arms in your clawed grip, and you drank, drank, drank…

The first meal was messy. The body under your feet was barely recognizable, you were covered in her blood, as during the process you wanted to drink dry her every artery and vein, so you simply tore her body apart.

Your own savagery frightened you.

But two months had passed and you got used to your new essence. Blood was delicious. It was your life, your fare, drug and desire. You found decades of ways of making someone's blood run faster, so it would more easily slip past your lips through your throat right into your belly. You knew how to make a bite a torture or a bliss. Knew what type of blood was most delicious and from what part of the body it was the hottest.

The threat of eviction from the Hotel hung over you, as Niffty had found a dead stray cat under the stairs (you decided never feed on animals again, their blood was simply bad and smelly), and Vaggie with Charlie were the witnesses of something more horrible.

You had a strict conversation with them, when the girls gave an ultimatum — you had to stop killing or you'd be turned out of the Hotel.

Blood was your food, and only hot fresh blood could kill your hunger, so those plastic bags filled with blood of donors that Charlie brought from hospital were useless for you. And it caused even more anger from her girlfriend. All your words remained unheard. Vaggie looked at you with uncovered disgust and hate, Charlie with sorry and… fear.

Then you locked yourself in your room. You wouldn't leave this hotel. Just in two months it became your home. And not only the building was dear to your heart, the sinners you had found here became the thing you didn't want to lose. The prospect of leaving them seemed more terrifying than drinking cold blood from the plastic bags.

They all sat in silence for a while. The fourth day since you locked up in your room was drawing to a close, the setting sun illuminated the living room with an orange-red glow. You didn't go out, didn't speak with anyone, didn't eat. And the residents began to hear the weird sounds from your dwelling, as if an animal was raving in its cage: scratching against the walls, growls and cries, the sound of breaking furniture. But this wild noise was sounding for just three days. Today there was only silence. And it terrified the residents even more.

“It's okay to eat meat here, right?”

“Angel, she's a vampire. All she eats is blood. Fresh blood.” Her voice trembled, as she recalled how she once pointed to the smudged lipstick on your lip, and you smiled predatorily at her, licked your lip and thanked her, your eyes flashing red. Vaggie tired of explaining to everyone why exactly your diet was so… complicated. And she shivered every time explaining it. It was disgusting. This nature was disgusting. You were disgusting.

The expression of aversion on Vaggie’s face couldn't stay unnoticed from a pair of bright red eyes. The man who said not a single word during the meeting opened his mouth. The sound of atmospherics cut through tension in the air as a knife when he said,

“Why judge the girl for her diet? It would be better to help her, don't you think?”

All eyes looked at him.

“What do you mean?” Asked Charlie. Her doleful expression slightly lightened up with a hope. She didn’t want to lose you or any other resident, but she also had to protect her people. So she would listen to any advice. Even from a cannibal. Perhaps, he could know how to best combat voracious appetite.

“I mean, my dear, the only way to satisfy her hunger is to give her what she craves.” A mysterious smile played on his lips.

Vaggie prepared her spear, “I won't let you-”

“There's absolutely no need for such measures, my dear,” He said, standing up and pushing away the spear with his forefinger, “No one will be hurt, I promise. At least not of their free will.”

“Then how are you going t-”

“And that's, dear Charlie, only my worries!” And with these words he vanished in his shadow.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor materialised in the hall and headed for your room. He wanted you to hear him coming. It could whet your appetite: hearing someone's steps, heartbeat, breath. As a predator you had a good hearing, and he wanted you to feel a living being. Maybe it could make you suffer from hunger a little more.

When you came, Alastor expected your failure. He didn't believe in redemption, but if it could work after all, for everyone it was more possible than for you. A gluttonous bloodthirsty creature like you could never find its way to heaven. And how entertaining it was to watch how bit by bit you understood this yourself. And how much fun Alastor had, watching your attempts to kill secretly, to retain your chance of staying in the hotel. And how you failed every time. Indeed why couldn't a vampire hide a body after her meal? Must be too excited after her dine to worry about the consequences.

But Alastor loved you accepting your nature. He loved the sight of your sharp fangs when you smiled; loved when you sniffed with your little nose, smelling blood when he returned from another slaughter; loved when you looked at the residents like at your prey; loved when you kept your hungry gaze on him for a little too long.

Oh, how ravishing you looked when Alastor caught you in the act of eating with your lips blooded and your eyes glowing with yet not satisfied desire.

But his favourite memory was the day before your voluntary shutting. He remembered how he suddenly felt someone's eyes on him and looked up from his book. You shamelessly stared at him, as if you were going to pounce on him right there. Your forefinger was placed between your teeth, and you bit into your own flesh, peering at him with a glassy stare absolutely lost in your thoughts. The tip of your pink tongue lewdly stuck out and caressed the pad of your finger. Alastor stared back at you, but you didn't dare to take your eyes away from him, until your fang sank into your flesh, and a little red pearl slipped down your hand. Only then you came out of your trance and quickly left the room, leaving Alastor with a whetting appetite.

He smelled your blood then. It was heavenly. Just a single drop was enough to make his mind blur and his mouth salivate.

Now he was heading to your room to take more and to give more. Oh, how perfectly starved you were now after several days of hunger. And he was ready to help you, but in exchange of course.

He stopped in front of your door, the dark wood with a pinned crucifixion on the surface. Everybody knew that any symbol of any religion couldn’t work on you, but you thought it'd be funny to hang a steel cross on the door of a vampire. After all, you were a little bit of a goth. Somehow the crucifixion got rusty where the lines crossed each other perpendicularly. With sharp tips of his claws Alastor touched the cross, and it slipped, now hanging upside down. Alastor smirked and knocked slowly at the door, though he didn't have to be invited to enter.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You heard the steps coming closer and recognized them immediately by the time between each step, by their loudness, just by their clatter. The loud clops of Alastor’s heels sounded clear through the empty corridor, and the sound came closer. Then you heard his breath, slow and calm. Alastor stopped in front of your door, and his heartbeat echoed in your head, making your own pulse imitate his.

You ran to the door, although it was already locked. Three knocks on your door, cautious but demanding.

“Get out!” You could almost feel the heat of his body even through the door, his pulse became louder and louder in your head, driving you crazy. The feeling of hunger increased.

“That's me, darling,” You heard a tender voice from the other side.

“I know, go away! I can hurt you, Alastor,” Last words you pronounced quietly they were barely heard on the side of the door. But Alastor had as good hearing as you.

“Wouldn't that be lovely, dear?” His voice was low, and the words were imbued with something dark. You swallowed hard when you recognized hunger and anticipation in his tone. “Hurt me to take you pleasure?” Next moment you heard a dark chuckle behind your back and turned around, “I'm here to help you, dear.”

Your bedroom was in semi-darkness, for no lamp or candle were lit up, and the windows were curtained though not completely, so the only light coming to your dwelling was the scarlet light of hell pouring through the window right on your bed. But you and Alastor, had eyes made for hunting, and you saw each other perfectly in the dimly lit room.

Your skin was paler than usual and your lips seemed dry. Your almost insane eyes weakly shone with red when you looked at Alastor unbuttoning his coat.

“Wha-? What are you doing?”

Without taking his eyes from you, Alastor took off his coat and headed for your bed, unbuttoning the left cuff of his shirt.

“Preparing dinner for you,” He sat on the edge of your bed, one sleeve rolled up, showing his scarred skin.

His face was pale grey, but his hands were coloured in black right to his elbows, where it slowly changed into the greyish again. Thin and thick lines of white crossed his forearm mostly on the inner side, making you wonder whether he was the cause of them or the countless battles he took part in.

You didn't notice how you creeped and sat nearby him. Alastor outstretched his forearm, softly smiling at you and lightening the dark with dim yellow. You almost wished your fangs could radiate the light like this. Where the black of his skin changed into the grey you saw a thin pulsing vein. Alastor saw your dark eyes lightened up brighter, and his own mouth watered with anticipation. Slowly, very slowly you lowered your head. You took a deep breath in, inhaling his scent and brushing your nose against his skin. But instead of sinking your fangs into his skin immediately you pressed your lips to this vein in a light kiss. You looked up at him, watching his emotions. He frowned, his crimson eyes flashed suddenly. You lowered your gaze and closed your eyes, preparing to taste him.

When your thin fangs sank into the flesh, Alastor gave a sigh. He didn't feel pain, just a quick prick and then a wave of pleasure, as you let your venom slip down your fangs into his vein. It took away the pain and affected your victims like a drug, making them want to give you more of them.

You kept your teeth inside of him for a few seconds, slightly rocking your head to make the holes from your bite wider. You slightly raised your head, but before Alastor could take his arm away, you pressed your mouth against the wound and began to suck. Your one hand grabbed his wrist, while the other one grabbed his shoulder.

You pressed your lips against the wound, sucking and swallowing his hot blood. It was a tad bitter and visсit, but still the taste was beyond all of your expectations, making you slightly moan against his skin.

When the first drops of blood splashed onto your tongue, you thought you would lose control, though these were the first drops of blood for the first time in several days and the most delicious you’ve ever tasted. You grabbed onto his arm, trying to keep yourself from biting deeper into his veins. You drank blood greedily, and despite its thickness it flowed into your throat easily. You held it in your mouth, basked your tongue in it, enjoying the unique taste astringent like alcohol. Venous blood is always more bitter than arterial one, but his blood had some other tint. This taste drove you crazy. Each drip of him had to be yours.

Alastor watched you closing to him, heard you softly moaning with pleasure, as if you were trying a delicious dish. To stay focused on your beautiful hair falling in heavy waves like curtains became struggling, as his thoughts became fuzzy. He felt his hand go numb, your lips pressed against his skin tighter and tighter.

A clawed hand harshly grabbed you by your hair and pulled back. A dark liquid dropped from your fangs on his hand and the bed, as Alastor tugged you back. Your teeth tore the tender skin of his forearm, and dark red drops stained the sheets. You swallowed the blood in your mouth, still being seized in Alastor's grip. Your eyes met Alastor’s and you gave him your sweetest smile. Your poison didn't work on him so easily. Of course, he was too powerful overlord for becoming a vampire's dish just after one drop of toxin.

His blood glistened on your white fangs, evoking strange envy in him. You had a taste of him, slaked your thirst even just a little, and he wanted the same. But he felt a tad dizzy and suspected that your fangs could produce something venomous that you instilled by drops in his vein. Naughty girl, how could you poison him? And you thought he wouldn't notice? How naive of you.

He grabbed your jaw roughly, when you tried to move closer to his forearm, “Ah ah ah. Not all at once, sweetheart,” He leaned to you, still holding your hair, “A bite for a bite,” He whispered against your wet lips and threw you on the mattress.

Shadowy tentacles squeezed your hands and held them on the sides of your head. Alastor leaned over you, pressing his weight against you, taking away any chance for you to make any move. He licked his lips, staring at your bare neck. Luckily for him, today you wore a strapless short black dress. He leaned so slowly to you, saying in low, “Let me just have a taste…”, and his long tongue slowly glided over your collarbone. It was hot, but the wet trails it left made you understand how cold the air around you was. His tongue went up your neck, then under your jaw and came back to where it started its trip.

Suddenly you felt sharp pain, as Alastor buried his sharp teeth in the curve between your neck and shoulder. You whined and arched your back, but he pinned you to the mattress, gripping you by your shoulders. His teeth were merciless compared to the fangs of a vampire. Your fangs were thin as needles, they sank into your victim easily, gently parting their flesh. Caressing the hands, back or temples of your victims, you made them forget about the pain, plus your intoxicating saliva. They surrendered to death with pleasure.

Alastor was rough. His bite gave you nothing but pain, and tears formed in your eyes. You wriggled under him, but he pressed you firmer against the bed. Harshly his teeth left you, and something wet and smooth touched your skin.

Alastor licked your sweet blood and salty sweat like an animal treating a wound of its mate. His tongue left bloody traces on the unwounded parts of your skin, and he licked them clean too. Every touch of his wet muscle brought you shiver. You tilted your head, giving Alastor more place to bite and lick, and rewarding yourself with his growl against your neck, “Good. Very good.” He wasn’t wrong. Your blood was the most delectable thing that’d touched his tongue. Sweet at first lick and bitter in aftertaste like dark chocolate.

The tip of his tongue went up your carotid, and he closed his eyes, feeling your pulse. You held your breath. If he wanted to, he could end your sinful afterlife right this moment, he could take his demon form and consume you with just one bite.

Your flesh is stuck in his teeth, your blood trickles down from the corner of his mouth, he licks his fingertips soaked with your juices, his eyes tracing all over your destroyed body in a search of untouched place…

The sinful delusion caused heat between your legs. Damn, could you be aroused in one step (bite) from death? Well... Why not? That was what you made your victims feel like, sucking their last drops of blood, as you poisoned them. No wonder the man whose taste you dreamt of since the day you met roused such feelings in you.

Alastor raised his head, making you sigh in relief. He licked away your tears, placing gentle pecks in the corner of your eyes.

Alastor straightened himself when the last drop of blood was licked away and you stopped bleeding. You were slightly dizzy. He drank much more blood than you did, and you were angry with this. You still were hungry and weak, and he made you even weaker. Alastor held you by your wrists, you hadn’t noticed when his tentacles disappeared. He looked down at you, admiring the marks he left on you. The sight of your own blood dripping down his chin, falling on your tights, made your heartbeat go faster.

With a seductive smile Alastor leaned over you again and loosened his bowtie with one hand. He undone several buttons of his shirt just enough to expose his neck and thin collarbone. His scent hit your nose, watering your mouth, you could see how his carotid artery pulsed in a rhythm that accompanied your own heartbeat. Your fangs grew bigger when he whispered, “How thirsty, how impatient you are, darling. You're even drooling,” With a dark chuckle he let his two fingers slide into your mouth, and you gasped in surprise. He cut his digits against your lower incisors, and you greedily licked the little drops from your teeth and captured his fingers with your lips. The tip of your tongue played with his fingertips, and you didn't mind when your tongue bled from the contact with his claws. You were so hungry and felt fuzzily, so you could accept a little act of self-cannibalism.

Your fangs carved his fingers up again, and with a pop his fingers left your oral, making you frown displeased. Alastor stuck out his tongue, and you finally saw that inhumanly long red muscle, that turned you weaker than you even were. He licked his fingers red with yours and his blood, not taking his eyes from you. Oh, you wished you could taste this cocktail too. Though you poisoned Alastor, you felt like it was he who infected you.

“Alastor… need it.. Please…” Your voice was weak, the hunger teased with those few drops of his and your blood drove you insane, and you fought with your desire to assault him.

“I know, darling, I know.” He didn't move, still sitting atop and grinning down at you. Reckless girl. He came to you to help, voluntarily, but instead of taking what he gave you gladly and patiently, you drugged him with your venom like one of your prey. No, he wouldn't let you take it anymore. At least, not so easily.

“Alastor…” You pleaded, but he just slowly shook his head. The red light pouring down from the window illuminated his silhouette like an ominous halo. “Mm-mm. Darling, you're ungrateful. I was kind to you, and how did you treat me?” His claw slowly traced down from your chest to your belly, “With poison?” He felt how your venom ran through his veins. You ran through his vein, arousing foreign feeling in him. He felt like his mind was out from his shelf, hovering somewhere above, felt how his skin got warmer and his pulse became faster. How he hated you for infecting his mind, making him less conscious. And what was worse… Your bloody venom affected not only his mind but his body too. At least, he hoped it was because of the venom.

He could tear you apart right in your bed, drink all of your sweet blood, eat your tender meat up, and he knew some could even thank him for this. But watching you shifting your hips, rubbing your thighs against each other, he thought there would be no fun in a simple murdering of you. The sigh of your wet eyes looked so pleading and your weak voice made him think that he was not the only one under the spell. Could it be possible? Perhaps, the little of his blood made you so anticipating. This thought brought a wide predatory smile on his face. No, he wouldn’t end you, he’d rather make you face the consequences in a way suitable for a greedy little thing like you.

Your doe eyes filled with fear and then regret, “I-I'm sorry, Alastor... Sorry, I won't drug you again, I promise…” Your next mumbling confirmed his decision, “F-feed me… Alastor, please… feed me, I’ll be good…” Your plea was sweet and pitiful. But not enough.

Alastor leaned closer, ruby eyes half-lidded, lightening your face with red, “You can do better than that.”

“I-I beg you, Alastor… I need… you..?” He cocked a brow at you questioningly. Your throat was dry and you swallowed, “Only your blood is good, only you're so good, Alastor, I beg you,” Your eyes flashed and fangs grew bigger, but seeing how he leaned back from you, you bit your lower lip to blood, “Beg you, Alastor, let me have a little more of you.”

You were begging him? That was delicious indeed.

“See? That's not so hard to be a good vamp, dear.” You moaned with anticipation, your hands grabbing the edges of Alastor's shirt, not letting him go far from you. “Now now, dear, here's your treat.”

With the click of his fingers the candles near your bed lightened up, making the atmosphere in the room more gloomy but intimate. Weak flames shone in the eyes of you both, and you could see your own reflection in his widened pupils. Alastor’s face was two inches from yours, you slightly lifted your head just enough to brush your lips against his, and he captured your mouth.

The kiss was greedy, predatory, the kiss of two creatures wanting nothing more but to devour each other completely. His long tongue immediately went past your lips, going deeper than you expected, and brushing against your soft palate forward and back, making you moan in a mixture of fear and pleasure. Alastor showed plainly that he could eat you up right now. You bit into his lower lip, making him groan in your mouth, and causing a few savoury drops to fall into your oral. You held his face in your palms, and he held you by your neck with one hand and the one was on your crown.

Gaspingly you broke away from each other and stared at wonder. Alastor swallowed audibly, a thin stream of saliva mixed with blood trickled down his chin. You knew your mouth was in the same messy state, and you licked your lips still hot with his blood. Both of you smiled at the work made with your fangs and tongues.

Alastor leaned slowly, and the curve of his neck appeared just in front of your sharp teeth. He pronounced in law with a slightly trembling voice, “Ahh. Do it, dear. Now.”

But you didn't bite. His carotid artery pumped so near against your lips, you felt the heat of his body, his scent so strong and tempting. It was the smell of dirt and blood with a subtle pine scent.

You tilted your head away from the artery. You wouldn't bite here. It could be fatal.

Instead of biting you grazed his skin up with your fangs, avoiding all dangerous places and letting his blood spill without any harm for him. Alastor sighted when your soft tongue ran up against his throat. You did it slowlier than him, not spreading blood all over his skin, but licking clean, tilting your head up and down whilst your tongue caressed his skin.

“Mmm… Ah! Darling, it's tickling!” He said, when the tip of your tongue drew circles around the slit under his chin, collecting the red drops.

“Most people think we bite at the neck, but this bite is fatal,” You whispered against his skin. You slowly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, and ran your fingers across his torso. The touch of your fingertips to his skin sent thrumming static from his chest that vibrated through your own body. “There's another lovely place to bite.”

You rolled over and changed the position, now you sat atop his pelvis, feeling how he swelled between his legs. You didn't take your eyes away from him, and he watched you going lower with your hands drawing circles around his chest, ribs, belly. You lay your palm on the middle of his chest and slightly left and felt his palpitation. It was beating like the bass drum, loud and hard. A melody you would choose to listen to forever.

Tenderly you left a kiss against the place where his heart was beating, after the second kiss you felt his throb became uneven, and you looked up. Alastor looked at you with a strained smile, his eyebrow knitted and gaze was full of doubts. “Even without venom it won't hurt, I promise.” He still kept his eyes on you, when you slowly sank your fangs into his flesh, sending him a vision to relax in your grab.

You keep your fangs inside him for a while and slowly take them out with a deep sigh. Looking straight into his eyes, you come down slowly, tracing your fingertips along his body, and making him shift slightly under your touches. Alastor swallows, watching you undoing the belt and the buttons on his trousers. The rustle of cloth seems unrealistically loud. Your little palm releases his twitching cock, and he can’t help but tilt his head in admiration, seeing how small you seem now, when your fingers can barely close down around his organ. The dim red lights in the room barely illuminate your face, and it seems to Alastor some of the lights are dancing right in the air as fireflies. You bring your face closer to his cock and touch his tip dribbling with precum against your soft lips. Your eyes don’t leave his face, when you place tender kisses on the top of his member over and over again. Your cold fingers get warmer because of his own heat.

Alastor watches you pressing his cock to your soft cheek and tilting your head down, until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. He sighs, seeing your blush and feeling with his skin how your cold cheeks become warmer in shame. Then you lick upward with your tongue, causing a shiver down his spine, and when you come back to the tip, you wrap your tongue around his length, moving your head down. Your devilish tongue is long and strong enough to reach to the middle of his cock and to squeeze it, making Alastor hiss and claw the sheets, “Ahh.. Right. Take it, darling.”

Your flashing with lust eyes are still on him, when your thin fingers come to his balls, caressing them, while your opened mouth goes down along his organ. He wishes you'd put it already in your little mouth, but you always delay the moment, whetting his appetite.

You capture his balls one by one into your mouth and slightly suck, moaning. Alastor throws his head back, whispering your name, when you begin to stroke his cock in your palm. Your forefingers appear on his wet tip and draw circles around it, causing more white drops to dribble down. He aches, wanting to grab you by your hair and force you to take him whole already, but he only clutches tighter at the sheets.

The darkness seems to become denser as the hell's sun begins to hide behind the horizon, letting a pentagrammed moon take its place; the candles flash brighter, turning into blurred flares, as if he sees them through the fog. Two bright flames of your eyes turn out to be the only clear lights in the room, and he focuses his gaze on them. You softly moan and with a loud pop remove your mouth from his balls, bringing your face near your hand which holds his cock. The sight of you licking and biting your red glistening lips, as you watch how his dick moistens your fingers, makes his mind fuzzy. But the undoubted feeling of being touched, the realistic sigh of you and your hunger mixed with lust, chase away the thoughts that it was only a dream. You promised him not to use the venom again, and he believed you, because he hoped you were not so silly and reckless as to disobey him. And because he wanted you to take him. Maybe it was because of that venom, maybe not, but it was indubitable that he wanted you, and he wanted you to want him. So he would do anything to arouse your desire for him. He'd let you drink as much blood as you need, let you play with his body as you wish, let you suck his cock as you want it. Anything to satisfy your hunger.

And as you slowly bring your pretty mouth to his cock, as his tip lies on your tongue, as you embrace his length with your lips and go down so slowly, he closes his eyes in a bliss.

He feels the back of your throat and groans, his hand is on your crown and strokes your head, as you’re keeping to take him deeper. He throws his head back with a growl when you take him whole, and your nose’s buried in his hair again whilst his balls bump against your chin. You stay in this position without moving, and he can see only your crown and the pomegranate light pouring down from the windows on your back. Alastor begins to thrust slightly at the beginning, accelerating gradually, and you moan with his cock in your mouth. You begin to bob your head up and down his length, adjusting to his rhythm. Your tongue wraps around him, and your fingers caress the sensitive skin of his thighs.

“Ahhh, fuck!” The sound of static fills the room when he curses, as your fang accidentally touches his skin. He’s impatient, he wants you to taste different parts of him, to swallow not only his blood, so he shoves faster. And when he feels he’s coming closer, he pulls your head down, causing a whine from you, and doesn’t let you move. He makes several slow thrusts, his tip touches the deeper parts of your throat, and he hears another whimper from you, as you try to take the air through your nose and relax your throat.

“Just a little more, dear, relax…”

With a final slow thrust he comes, and both of you moan: you, feeling a different intimate taste of him, and he, drowning in pleasure with a long-awaited release.

Both of you’ve satisfied your hunger.

Hot blood was pouring into your mouth as from a tap and you only managed to swallow. Alastor lay still under you, his breath was slowly and with every deep sight the crackling of static brushed your hearing. He didn't try to evade your bite, moreover he put his palm on your crown, pressing you closer and preventing you from taking your mouth away from him. Your hypnosis worked, it helped him to relax, to accept your desire as it was his and infected him with the same hunger. His fingers brushed your hair and scratched your scalp, he whispered “good” and called you “love”, when suddenly he became louder and more active. His hips moved in slow motions, bumping against your thighs. What was he dreaming through? You only knew your hypnosis could show something pleasant, so people you bite wouldn't fight against you. You guessed sometimes they could see something seductive, as their blood ran faster into your mouth, but you'd never seen such a reaction. Alastor was loud under your touches and sucks, and it seemed that the delusion you made him see, became more realistic in his mind. His curses and moans became louder, making you blush as you never thought that the radio demon could let such lewd noises escape his mouth. And when his blood ran faster through the two tiny holes you'd made, and you felt his hardness between your legs. You understood that the lecherous mirage came to its acme and would end soon.

These new sucks of blood were matchless, simply better than anything you'd tasted before. Just sprinkling on your tongue, this rich and bitter taste watered your mouth. Tasting his blood would become your new obsession. The heavy breath reaching your ears, blood you swallowed, his movements and mumble of nothings raised your feeling of euphoria, making the laughter escape your mouth.

You looked down at the hell's overlord moaning your name in the most obscene ways and thrusting his hips against your clothed core, and you felt you’d already become wet. His blood assuaged your hunger and thirst, but not your desire. Now a different type of hunger had assaulted you.

Alastor now lay still, with trembling eyelids and panting. The vision ended, and soon he’d open his eyes, realising that what he saw was a hallucination you’d sent. You couldn't let it happen, he couldn't know that you tricked him again.

You slipped down to his knees and undid his trousers, releasing his aching cock from the cloth. It appeared bigger than you thought, and you swallowed, when a scent reached your nostrils. The tint of his skin here was the same greyish colour as the most of his body, excepting the tip that had the deep black shade. Slick and smooth; only your middle finger could hardly touch your thumb when you wrapped your fingers around it, sliding your palm down and up. The hallucination had already made him so hard and ready, that you were afraid he'd come earlier than you brought him to your mouth. The sight of that thick vein pulsing under your fingertips couldn't escape from your gaze though you were full, so firstly you placed the tip of your tongue there.

Alastor opened his eyes and felt a caress below. Hadn’t it all ended?

He rose up on his elbows and looked down. Oh, you still were there, devouring him but now in a more innocent way, if such a word could be used in this situation. Your eyes were closed, and you left quick tender kisses all over his length; on his tip you slightly sucked in; going down, you stuck the edge of your tongue and licked his dick; descenting to the base of his cock you brushed your nose against his skin and breathed in his scent.

The scent drove you insane. It differed from what you inhaled around his neck before, this one was more savoury, and you couldn't help but take deeper breaths every time as you came down. But not only his scent. Placing kisses and licking his twitching cock, you appraised new taste. It didn't provoke your hunger, but made you feel heat between your thighs and hastened your heartbeat.

The black pulsing tip appeared between your plush lips again, and you felt a gaze on you. Looking up, you saw Alastor, eyeing at you. He covered his exposed fangs with his palm, but you saw through his fingers how long and crooked his smile was. Your heartbeat became faster, when you noticed how blood from the slit on his neck was still dribbling down his chest, belly and lower part of his abdomen, how this fluid red thread came closer to the organ now settled between your lips.

You let his cock slip past your soft lips, and you had to open your mouth wider to not hurt his sensitive organ with your sharp teeth. You moaned, sucking his cock and savouring the new taste. It was salty and musky, close to the smell swimming in the air you were breathing with now. The taste so unusual sent a quiver through your body and made you dizzy as if you were feverish.

The huge palm with long red claws cupped your cheek gently, and then it traced up to your crown. Alastor held his eyes on you, still covering his mouth, and now he bit into the knuckle of his thumb, fighting back a rude desire. His ears were pressed back to his scalp, hair slightly tousled, his grin was wicked and blood with saliva dripped down his fist. He seemed pleading and angry at the same time, and you would be a liar if you said you didn't like him like this.

The wax trickled down from the candles on the floor, whilst you licked up every salty drop of your tonight lover, the wind trembled the curtains and fanned your perspiring back, making your shiver in coolness of night, and every sound of trembling velvet drowned in the rustling static of Alastor’s hard breath. You bobbed your head up and down, up and down, and every slope was lower than previous. His warm palm caressed your cheek, sending a vibration through your body, then it slowly went upward, brushing your temple and forehead, until his long fingers buried in your hair to tug you up, so only the tip of his cock grazed your tongue and lips.

You looked into each other's eyes. Your gazes pierced into your souls, facing only desire and greed. Two unsatisfied bloodlust creatures, yearning for something that was forbidden for both of you, and now found the way to satisfy your appetite.

You moaned with impatience against his dewy member, the want to lick him clear, to collect every drip of seed and blood and saliva that dribbled from his mouth now, was too strong, but he held you firmly, and you could only patiently wait for his command.

You wanted to plead “please”, but the moment when your lips touched his aching cock to pronounce the first letter of the word, he harshly pushed you down. As a muted whimper of you clanged in the dark bedroom, Alastor groaned, pressing you down to the base of his cock, as his seed flowed down your throat. You rolled your eyes back and moaned, letting the liquid glide down, subduing your desire.

“Ahh- ah! Ah, d-darling!” His palm slid to the nape of your neck, and you could finally make a move.

Alastor slightly started when you didn't let go of his member but went down once more again and again. Your eyes flashed in a different hue of bright pink, which he hadn't witnessed before, you were bobbing your head, sucking his semen and fondling his length with your small palm, which barely ringed round his member just like in his dream.

His dream?

You slipped his cock out of your mouth, a sticky white threat chained your lips and the tip of his organ. You caught it with your tongue and sent it into your pretty mouth. You kept your eyes on Alastor, licking your hand clean and sucking out what was under your claws, the prurient sound you made when you did this caused rose on his cheeks.

Your raspberry red tongue cleaned his length with several long slow licks and touched his abdomen. Slowly you began to crawl up with your opened mouth pressed against his skin. You felt him quivering under your lips as you went higher, wiping the remaining red liquid.

“Is this how you treat your every victim?” You heard soft static brushing your ears.

“No. Only you.” You whispered, glancing at him. Alastor finally seemed calm, you felt his muscles relaxed under your fingertips, he closed his lips in a soft smile, and looked at you from half closed eyes. Was it his release or a satisfied desire you didn’t know.

The air he evenly breathed out fanned your crown, when you put your head on his chest. You lay on him, bending your knees, so your legs embraced him by his sides, and you knew Alastor could feel with his bare skin what he had done with you even without touching you there. You wanted to continue and by the way Alastor's fingers drew lines around your skin, where the skirt of your dress rode up, you guessed he shared your need. But he was too exhausted. The venom, the hallucination, the orgasm, the blood he lost, all of this was too much for one night. And though your heart still palpitated too fast after all that sampled, you would give him rest. He gave you much more than you expected when he came to your bedroom.

The last candles burnt down, plunging you into the darkness. The light of the moon illuminated your bed, falling on you and Alastor. Several drops of blood were still present on his lips, you gave him a soft peck, and Alastor kissed you back weakly but tenderly.

“I won't leave this place," You whispered into his mouth.

“Of course not, darling. I won't let a sweet thing like you wander in hell all alone, and I won't let anything foul get into this lovely mouth of yours.”

You chuckled, burying your face in his chest. You were happy and grateful to know that finally someone didn't judge you but even helped you. But what else could you except from a demon like him? Why didn't you even try to ask him before? Perhaps, you were not sure he would let anyone take a piece of him into their stomach. It was too intimate.

But now...

You slightly lifted your head and asked with a mischievous smile, “Does that mean only you will feed me?”

“Why yes, my dear!" The words sounded cheerful and serious at the same time, "Since this night you can receive my blood only, and I will be the only one who'll receive yours. It's a deal, darling.”

“What? We didn't make a deal! We didn't even shake hands!”

“Sweetest,” He grabbed you by your chin, making you look straight into his eyes, “We drank each other's blood. That's more serious and intimate than shaking hands, don't you think?” His thumb slipped a red droplet into your mouth, and you nodded assent, chewing his digit, “I already have you inside of me, and you have me.”

You were bonded now. Alastor didn't offer you a deal, it wasn't necessary, he knew you both would come back to each other to satisfy another greedy desire. And you both were ready to give anything in return just for a single bite. No deal would have such power as the obsession that had taken hold of you.

You listened to his calm breath and heartbeat and thought. You sent him a hallucination, and this hallucination made him see… an interesting thing. And that thing developed into something more interesting. Did he really think this way of you? Did he really want not just your blood, but your body too? and would he like to have your soul? Oh, you were ready to give him everything if he asked. Blood, pain, soul, screams, body, love, hate. Even for free. What he gave you to taste was a worth price for your service to him.

And only the desirous part of you, the night, vampiric, ravening part of you, couldn't accept just an hour of pleasure. This part would not just take but give more to receive more in praise.

“If you want to know, the effect of the venom's over,” You said suddenly.

“Yes, I can feel it, dear,” He pronounced, gazing at you.

Why did you even say it? You wanted to be honest with him? But why? You'd never found it difficult to lie or to keep back, but now you felt uncomfortable, hiding the truth from the man in front of you. His look was sharp, and you knew Alastor wasn't the one who forgives liars (even if he himself wasn’t always frank). But not the consequences frightened you. You just didn't want to hide something from him. His red eyes and their rozy gleam hypnotised you, piercing into your soul. How could you lie, looking in these eyes?

“Darling, you better be veracious with me,” His grip on your hips tightened, and you gasped when his claws sank deeper into you soft skin. “Or do you want me to pull the truth out from you?” His razor-like teeth dangerously flashed in the darkness.

“Uh, no!” You nervously chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck before confessing him, “Well, when I bit you, you were very tensioned, and to help you to relax I… I made you see kind of a daydream, a vision.”

“A vision?” He tilted his head, smiling wider. Why did he look like he'd already known everything and just wanted to see you ashamed of your actions?

“Yes, a vision, but! I only made your mind see something you wanted to see, I couldn't influence your vision.” You added it, considering it was important to mention that you wern't responsible for the erotic scenes Alastor saw. But he wasn't impressed with your revelation.

“That is, you are not to blame for what I saw.”

You slowly nodded.

“Interesting.”

Suddenly the room was lit up by candlelight that appeared out of nowhere. The bedroom was illuminated brighter than before with black waxed candles, and now you could clearly see each other in the uneven orange glow.

Alastor lovingly tucked a lock of your hair by your ear, his thumb caressed your cheek. He brought your face closer to him, and you whispered as your voice failed you, “Don't you need a break..? You've lost so much blood-”

“What a nonsense, dear!” He purred into your ear, stroking your back. Shiver ran down your spine, when he pronounced, “The night has just begun!”

The sharp teeth sank into your neck.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

@totespferd i know you've been waiting for this <3

author's note: i'm still learning to write this genre, and i hope it was not so bad, as my brain tries to convince me, and i'm ready to take advices ^_^

also! i wrote it, listening to the soundtracks of "only lovers left alive" (adore this movie), and i wrote the smut part whilst listening to the "sexual hallucinations" by in this moment (i fucking love maria brink), so you can listen to it too, it's a good horny song and suits well to the fic ( ͡ _ ͡°)ﾉ♡♡

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor fanfiction #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #alastor #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Title: The Housepet.

Continuation of The Houseguest.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaveh x Reader x Yandere!Alhaitham (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Implied/Referenced Non-Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Mind Break, Physical Abuse, Dehumization, Obsessive Behavior, and Delusional Thoughts.

You’d been shaking for the past two hours.

Violently enough for the tremor to be visible in your shoulders, in the jerkiness of your rare movements, but not so aggressively as to disrupt the path of the tears Kaveh would occasionally catch running down your cheeks. It’d started halfway through your tryst, while his head was still buried between the thighs he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks, and the warm bath he’d run hadn’t comforted you the way he’d hoped it would. He thought that getting you out of Alhaitham’s clothes, Alhaitham’s colors might help, but even dressed in one of his shirts, your hair pulled out of your face by one of his jewel-studded clips, you shook like a leaf caught in the morning gale. When he tried taking your collar away, hoping that it’s absence would let you (however momentarily) forget Alhaitham, you broke your silence to beg him not to, and his bleeding heart won over his better judgement. You got to keep your collar, even if the sight of it around your throat sent a bolt of discomfort straight to the pit of his stomach.

Currently, he had you on his bed, curled up in a nest of his sheets and wrapped in his arms as he tried to tempt your permanently downcast gaze back onto him. It hurt him to see you in such obvious distress, as little as you seemed to care what he thought. He could only imagine what you were like when Alhaitham had his way with you, that brute. At least Kaveh had made an effort to be gentle with you. He was sure that, behind closed doors, Alhaitham wouldn’t so much as—

Speak of the archons and they will appear. As he rubbed shallow circles into your bruised hip, Kaveh heard the door to Alhaitham’s flat creak open, a series of familiar footsteps following shortly after. There was no pretense of a search – Kaveh could’ve counted the seconds it took Alhaitham to arrive at his door, to let himself into Kaveh’s room with the same irritatingly neutral, ‘I already know this will be a waste of my time’ expression he always seemed to wear. He didn’t even attempt to knock, but Kaveh supposed that was just karma. He supposed he wouldn’t be in this mess at all if he just tread a little more carefully around Alhaitham, around you.

Despite his brazenness, Alhaitham chose to linger in the doorway, his gaze flickering from Kaveh to you to the love bites littered down the length of your neck. Kaveh was the one to break the silence, eventually. “You’re supposed to be working.”

“And you’re supposed to be paying rent.” Then, resting his shoulder against the doorframe, “I left early. I wanted to see how you two were faring.”

Kaveh scoffed. “Don’t pretend you’re clairvoyant.” Alhaitham paid him a look, and he threw his head to the side, pulling you closer. “I’m only trying to some love to someone you’ve been neglecting for months. The poor thing’s so traumatized by your company, a little affection’s rendered them nearly catatonic.”

Alhaitham let out a dry laugh, his expression remaining completely unchanged. “That is not what they look like when they’re catatonic.”

Kaveh moved to spit out something accusatory and defensive, but Alhaitham only held up a hand. When Kaveh begrudgingly went quiet, Alhaitham took a step closer, positioning himself at the foot of Kaveh’s bed. He clicked his tongue and, with only the slightest amount of hesitation, you broke away from Kaveh and crawled to your keeper, head bowed and hands pawed. You came to kneel in front of him, your gaze never rising higher than Kaveh’s sheets. “I’m sorry, I tried to…” You trailed off, clenched your eyes shut. A flower, so meek and so delicate, it couldn’t help but close its petals for fear of being burnt by the sun. “I’m sorry.”

Alhaitham took on a look of pleased exasperation. “That won’t be necessary. You remember what I told you before I left, right?”

You nodded. “That it wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Close, but not quite.” He smiled, resting his hand on top of your head. You melted into his palm, although the sigh that slipped past your lips betrayed more relief than solace. “I said he wouldn’t be able to control himself. That’s the thing about Kaveh – no matter what I put in front of him, he’d be able to justify taking it for himself.”

Again, Kaveh tried to protest, to reiterate that he hadn’t ‘taken’ anything, but Alhaitham already going on, his hand drifting to your cheek, then your chin, tilting your head back to better take in the hickey bruised into the corner of your jaw, the evidence of Kaveh’s teeth still embedded in your shoulder. “You should’ve seen what I had to deal with a few months ago. Fighting, scratching, and such a mouth – I’m glad we found a better use for it.” A pause, a glance toward Kaveh. “I’m sure even you can admit that this is an improvement. A little training goes a far way, when you’ve got the right handler.”

He felt something sharp and heavy fall into the pit of his stomach. “It sounds like you’re talking about an animal.”

Kaveh didn’t want to be strict with you. He didn’t want to be like Alhaitham; endlessly cruel, endlessly demanding, a void where all emotions more sentimental than lukewarm indifference were eradicated with the utmost efficiency. He wanted to be soft with you, a reprieve you could run to when Alhaitham proved unyielding. He wanted to love you, if only because of how much it hurt him to see Alhaitham failing to do the same.

“It’s not completely different. Give a subject the right incentive, and it doesn’t matter whether you’re trying to tame a student or a sumpter beast. This subject just happens to do well with direct instruction. I found that out early on, after a softer approach proved ineffective.” He snapped his fingers, and as if guided by a string, you straightened your back, your formerly divided attention now focused solely on Alhaitham. “I could teach you a few of their commands, if you think you could be strict enough not to undo all of my hard work.”

But, seeing you kneel in front of Alhaitham, staring up at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky – he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache at the memory of the state you’d been in only a few minutes ago, of the trembling doll who needed to be posed by hand. At least, under the weight of Alhaitham’s commands, you were more of a house pet than a toy, more of a flower than a block of crumbling stone.

The thought alone should’ve made him feel sick.

Should’ve.

He straightened, swung his legs over the side of his mattress. He looked at you as he spoke, only letting Alhaitham take up a fraction of his peripheral. “What do you mean by ‘commands’?”

Kaveh wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t have to be.

He could hear Alhaitham’s grin in his voice. “Come here.”

He took long seconds to push himself onto his feet, to find his way to Alhaitham’s side. With a soft hum, Alhaitham stepped back and brought a hand to Kaveh’s waist, another to his shoulder, drawing him forward until he was standing in front of you. He could see something spark in your eyes – not quite distress, but confusion. There’d been a change in the routine that you and Alhaitham had perfected, and you clearly weren’t sure how to react. To his credit, he wasn’t either.

“You already saw how to get their attention,” Alhaitham started, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Names haven’t had much affect since our time with the cellar, but most verbal commands are fairly straightforward. Kneel, sit, and stand all do exactly what you’d assume, and while they usually ask for approval to speak, they’re good at responding to direct questions. Aren’t you, love?”

Kaveh watched you perk up, looking towards Alhaitham for approval. He offered a curt nod, and with a few seconds of deliberation, you managed a small “…I am.”

“See? There’s still a brain in there after all.” Alhaitham flashed that awful smile toward Kaveh. Kaveh didn’t return the gesture. “We’re making progress, but due to prior incidents—” Alhaitham’s tone didn’t change, but you flinched. “—our outdoor privileges are still restricted. Kitchen access is limited, too, until someone proves that they know how to handle knives responsibly.”

You bowed your head, a scolded dog who knew better than to pretend it hadn’t learned its lesson. Kaveh interjected before Alhaitham could forget the point of his lecture. “That’s not what I care about.”

He could practically taste the smugness radiating off of Alhaitham. “And what do you care about, Kaveh?”

“I can’t believe you’d hold this over my—”

“Answer the question,” Alhaitham cut in. “If you want to use something that belongs to me, you’re going to have to tell me what you plan to do with it.”

It felt like something was attempting to crawl up his throat, one spiny leg at a time. It felt like his chest was about to split open. “I want to be…”

His eyes met yours. For a moment, he thought he saw something other than the dull acknowledgment of an unpleasant reality, other than the fear of punishment and the anticipation of reward. Something more visceral, more conscious than what could be ingrained into you by someone else’s hands.

“I’d like to be loving with them.” He saw it for a moment and then, that visceral something fell apart and disappeared. “I’d like for them to love me. Or, to act like they do, at least.”

Alhaitham let out a breath of a laugh. It sounded like nails against porcelain. You seemed to think so too. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Your voice sounded so painstakingly delicate. If he had a little less self-control, he might’ve taken you in his arms and whisked you away, taken you somewhere Alhaitham couldn’t follow. If he was a little less selfish, he would’ve. “It wasn’t.”

If Alhaitham heard you speak out of turn, he was willing to overlook the infraction. “Use the collar. Just make sure not to pull too hard – you won’t like what that means.”

It was Kaveh’s turn to shake, now. He tried to keep his hands steady, to touch you as carefully as he had when you were alone together, but his limbs felt disconnected from his body, his mind buzzing numbly with a static haze. The material was softer than he thought it would – not quite the silk he’d taken it for, but rather, a fine velvet, soft to the touch and bound by a small, metallic ring that rested over your throat. Two fingers slipped under the thin fabric, and as if you’d only just noticed what was happening, you looked toward Alhaitham, your lips parting and—

There was a blur of movement in the corner of his eye, a resounding crack that seemed to ring in Kaveh’s ears for seconds. It took him a moment to piece together what had happened, to associate your reddened cheek with Alhaitham’s raised hand, and another to realize Alhaitham was talking, to hear something other than the sound of his own heart racing in his chest. “Do not question the orders you’re given,” he said, his tone flat, unaffected. “If you act out again, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

There was no hesitation, no trepidation. Just a deep breath, a new slackness to your posture, and a smile terrible enough to match Alhaitham’s own. “I do. Thank you for correcting me.”

Kaveh couldn’t take it. He didn’t think, didn’t wait, didn’t give himself time to think better of being so rough with you – just took your collar in his fist and dragged you upward, forcing his mouth against yours. It was messy, clumsy, near violent. His teeth cut into your lips, your blood spreading over his tongue, but you didn’t pull away. Rather, you leaned into him, resting hands on his chest and doing your best not to jolt when he hauled you closer. He’d be gentle with you later on. He’d treat you like the delicate, precious thing you were later on.

For now, he just wanted to pretend he was telling himself the truth, when he said that.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #alhaitham x reader #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #kaveh x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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buckets-and-trees · 2 months

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Any thoughts on Mafia bucky and Steve? Love ur works!!

I thought I didn't really have any thoughts other than that I pretty much am always weak for them.

But then I got struck with this idea about an hour ago, and the muse BOLTED with it...

Title: Little Lark Characters/Pairings: Mafia!Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader x Mafia!Steve Word Count: 950 Summary: You were already in a dangerous situation, but one meeting may drive you into far deeper waters than you're ready to swim in.

Content/Warnings: non-con, non-main character death, vaginal fingering, non-explicit PIV and oral (male receiving), use of pet name (little lark), mild degradation, implied praise kink, dacryphilia

Author Notes: Catching up on week seven of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - using the COLLARS prompt - and filling my November box for Build-a-Bucky Bingo with OBJECTIFICATION.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You flinched at sound of the gunshot and looked away.

Somehow you didn’t think they would do it, but they did.

You didn’t need to look to know your boss was dead.

You would be relieved, finally free from the debts and blackmail that had held you captive to work for him and keep your family safe, but you didn’t know if you would truly fare any better with the men in front of you now.

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers had come from Brooklyn to Atlanta to make a deal with your boss only to find out he had tried to cross the two men before they’d even sat down to negotiations.

“You have a choice to make,” Steve said.

Hesitantly, you turned your head back to look at the most handsome and intimidating men you had ever seen – it would be your opinion even if you didn’t know the things you already did about how dangerous they were, and you were sure you didn’t know even half of what they had done or what they were capable of.

Steve unlocked and flipped open the briefcase he’d brought in for the meeting, then turned it to face you. “You’ll walk out of here wearing one or the other, but it’s up to you.”

You frowned, looking at a leather collar on the left and a silver chain with a stunning sapphire pendant. Then you looked back up at the men.

The choice seemed too obvious.

“What’s the catch?” you asked.

“No catch. Your ours now, but you can pick what that looks like,” Bucky explained.

“I’m not–” you tried to protest, but Bucky cut you off.

“Unlike your idiot boss, we thoroughly did our homework before this meeting. We know you only worked for him to keep your family alive.”

“So, let me go! The debts owed were to him, not to you!”

Steve smiled, but it was cold, calculating. “But we don’t want to. Why would we squander a pretty little asset like you?”

Your chest tightened and you could feel angry tears welling up. “It wasn’t like that! I was only his assistant!”

“The only decent thing about him was that he never cheated on his wife,” Bucky admitted, “but his intentions for you were never innocent. You were on the list of things that could be part of our potential deal.”

An object, not a person. There was a sudden pit in your stomach now, too, but you tried not to react in any other way.

“Neither of us need an assistant, but we have other needs we think you’re well-suited for,” Steve took over explaining the situation, and made no attempt to hide the way his eyes roamed your form.

“Again, your choice,” Bucky said, “or we choose for you. You can be either our whore or our companion.”

You were quiet for another moment, then you dropped your eyes and softly murmured, “Necklace.”

The modicum of dignity would be minimal, but maybe you would be afforded at least some semblance of humanity as a companion.

Bucky took the necklace from its velvet case and strode around the desk and the dead body on the floor. He motioned for you to stand so he could put it around your neck. As he fastened it, you couldn’t help but notice the sound and feel as there was twisting and then a click.

The chain fastened with a permanent lock.

“Aw, our little lark is trembling,” Bucky cooed, tracing his fingers along the side of your neck.

“In fear or anger?” Steve asked.

You looked at him sharply.

He smirked. “So, it’s both. Good.”

Bucky didn’t move away from behind you, and his hands reached to tug your skirt quickly up around your hips. You yelped in protest when he pushed his hard bulge up against your ass and groped the fleshy globes.

And somehow Steve was suddenly in front of you, moving before you could even register. He took your chin in his hands even as Bucky’s fingers moved down between your legs, invading your panties to start playing with your folds.

“Bucky and I have always shared everything,” Steve said. “It’s why no one can beat us or come between us.”

Bucky suddenly found your clit, and it made you jump and whimper.

“Mmm, give her more of that, Buck,” Steve said, a wicked glint in his eye.

“We’ll make your body sing for us,” Bucky vowed, “don’t fight it, little lark.”

Your breath hitched, and you fought back a sob.

While Bucky kept tormenting your clit, his other hand went to the small of your back, urging you to arch and present your hips more readily for him. You couldn’t do anything but comply.

It was Steve who nudged your legs further apart with his foot edging your right to move out to a wider stance. Then he stepped back, and Bucky continued to push you forward. You almost stumbled forward, but Steve caught your hands to steady you.

And then he put your hands at his belt.

“Go on,” he urged, looking down at you, “be our good girl. You know what to do.”

Disobedience could mean death – maybe not yours, but someone else’s. They’d killed your boss in front of you without hesitation. You didn’t want to test them in the slightest. Your fingers worked open the leather belt and zipper in front of you while Bucky peeled your panties down over your ass and let them fall to the floor.

One cock in your pussy, one in your mouth, you tried to ignore their degradation and praise as they worked your body into unwanted bliss, tears falling down your cheeks and their collar hanging around your neck.

You were theirs.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

READ THE SEQUEL: BIRD ON A WIRE

When I tell you these mean mafia men really came and took over my creative brain about an hour and a half ago, I'm not lying. Start to finish, they were direct, brutal, and exacting in what they wanted.

#bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #mafia au #askpen #tw: non con #tw: noncon #aspen wrote something #female reader #babb2023 #hotbuckysummer2024 #little lark verse

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theminecraftbee · 10 months

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wait okay so the state of the various alliances right now is FASCINATING to me actually:

the roomies proved to be very ride-or-die, especially etho and cleo.

the mounders apparently refused to kill each other as well, even when two of them were zombies and one of them was not.

the heart foundation was... a little messier about it i think we'll see how that pans out next session honestly.

gem and the scotts though... apparently impulse asked them to kill him so he could join gem and bdubs so you'd THINK that was another ride-or-die. except scott said that gem betrayed him the moment she turned red and didn't seem to trust the other two at ALL by the end.

and then our lone players, scar and martyn. interestingly, martyn fared better on the 'still having friends' front despite being red because i think the roomies would help him in a pinch at this point. meanwhile scar was making enemies with EVERYONE and i'm pretty sure that was at least partially a task but he is. driving everyone off of himself and that's very interesting.

it's just. the way that some of the alliances stayed close. and some did not. when the apocalypse comes, who do you trust? sometimes, it's your allies since the start.

but sometimes, it's not.

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #LIKE THE LINEUP OF WHO WAS UNWILLING TO BETRAY AND WHO WAS... FASCINATING.

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weirdmarioenemies · 9 months

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Name: Mino

Debut: Tetris Worlds

While researching for last week's post, I discovered something amazing. Something I haven't been able to stop thinking about. No matter what, my mind always comes back to

Tetris Lore

Now, I'm not going to act like Tetris has an overarching story, or that the story of one game is at all relevant to the other games. Tetris Worlds is just one game, and its story is self-contained. But the fact that this Tetris game has a story at all is really incredible!

What would you expect from a Tetris game with a story? Maybe something like, the Tetriminos are all best friends living in Block World, but one day, wuh woh! There's a Bad Guy who's a sphere who hates cubes or something! Luckily, with the power of our friendship and Tetris skills, we can teach him a lesson and banish him once more... or perhaps make a new friend? :)

Please watch the introductory cutscene of Tetris Worlds.

These are the Minos! Minos, in this canon, are a species of cycloptic cubes with fascinating cycloptic faces on their forward-facing faces. I absolutely adore them already. And wouldn't you know it, their sun is going supernova and they are all going to die if they can't evacuate their planet in time. HUH???

This story is so fascinating! I am SO happy that someone came up with this when tasked with making a story for a Tetris game. There was a creative vision, and it appears to be fully realized in this short but unforgettable intro to what could have easily been just another Tetris game!

You get to have a Mino as an avatar! This could be YOU! You can make them wear a funny hat as they hover and squash and stretch on the sidelines while you play Tetris!

The game's manual explains even more about the Minos, most notably that they are MECHANICAL! These things just keep getting better! Living, cycloptic cubes, with an entire futuristic society, and they're machines. The manual also feels the need to remind us that they were probably made by organic beings, as "most" mechanical beings are. And I find that suspiciously specific...

Look at this fish! This mechanical, cycloptic Mino fish. This was not in the Xbox version's intro, but it was in the PS2 one! For whatever reason, the two had unique animation in their intros, despite using the same voiceover. This fish is shown emerging from water onto land, where it beholds the Tetrions, the sacred and powerful portals in which the game of Tetris takes place. The visual of a fish coming onto land is such in-your-face evolution imagery that I am ENTIRELY convinced that these fish were ancestors of the Minos who would later form civilization! Natural, evolving robots!

...and then this intro goes on to depict the Minos as having TWO eyes. Yeah ok. Sure. I will confidently declare these binocular blockheads as non-canon based on everything else we've seen, ESPECIALLY because the actual gameplay even depicts cycloptic Minos!

Some of them seem to be established characters. This is Izabela. Hi Izabela!

Are you on the edge of your seat, hoping our friends the Minos survive? They do! Savvy Tetris skills allow them to activate the Tetrions (which were left behind by an ancient space-faring civilization. In case you were wondering) and teleport to other planets. Minos live! Hooray. And now you know the Tetris Lore, and can think about it constantly like I do!

Lastly, I made this little image of the Mino leader from Worlds, in the style of a Tetris Friends avatar! I like to think some cross-promotional avatars could have been added if Worlds came out during the lifespan of Tetris Friends. I can only hope that at least someone at The Tetris Company remembers this incarnation of the Minos, and that they could possibly appear in a game once more!

#mino #tetris #tetris worlds #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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hannieehaee · 6 months

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ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: it wont let me reply to people anymore but ill be tagging everyone who comments asking to be tagged just letting u guys know<3

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koenigami · 2 months

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exes to lovers with togame jou. tags : +18, fem!reader, nipple play, fingering, mentions of cunnilingus, some hiragi x reader, angst to fluff to smut? wc : 1,9k

You broke up because you both believed that it was the best. For both of you. You believed that it was what you two needed in order to grow, to find yourselves, to be happier.

But neither of you were. Happier that is.

Because through every new step of your life, you had to suppress the urge to text him. Send him pictures of your new apartment, tell him about the sweet old lady next door, tell him about the new show that you started watching. Letting go of a lover is never easy, but Togame was most but foremost your best friend that you had fallen in love with at a young age, and that your heart could not seem to let go of.

And as it seemed, he was not faring any better. Because the moment you spotted each other in the bar that you used to go to together, neither of you had it in you to control themselves. One shy "Hi.", another hopeful "Can we talk?", mixed with one or two drinks, and you found yourself relapsing.

Before either of you could properly bid goodbye your initial dates, you found yourselves at Togame's place. Little had changed after two months, you noted as you walked through the little apartment. The same curtains that you had bought him ornamented his windows. Your cup was still neatly placed beside his in the upper open cupboard. The picture on the bedside table which you took on one of your first dates was also still there. A little dusty, but it was there. Though somehow you felt as if nothing seemed to be the same.

“Did you- ” You sounded breathless, your bared chest heaving rapidly up and down as you barely dared to ask what’s been on your mind this entire time. Togame stilled as he intently looked down at you, though you couldn't stop squirming when his thumb didn't cease tracing your areola. “Mmh, Jou…”

“Did I what?”

“T-The girl you were with. Did you guys- ”

“You wanna know if we slept together?” Date was what you actually had aimed to say, but that did it as well. He said it so casually, and you thought that you even discerned a tinge of disgust in the way he spoke. And the fact that you didn’t know whether that disgust was directed towards you or mentioned girl made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

The moment your eyes started to nervously wander to the side, you felt the warmth of Togame's hand seep through your skin as he guided your head to properly look at him.

“I barely even know her. We- ” He sighed, and it was only when he leaned down, the black bangs tickling your forehead, that you noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes which all of a sudden also seemed to wander around the room. “We did go on a few dates but-”

But it felt wrong. But she was not you. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you, because no matter where he went, you were everywhere. You were in the fresh air that he breathed in, in the morning when opening the window in his bedroom. You were in the sweet tune that the birds would sing on his way to work. You were in the beautiful sunset that he'd get to see on his way back home.

You were still in his heart.

He didn’t say it, yet somehow at the way he was silently looking at you, you could tell what he meant.

Your teeth sank into your lips when Togame's hand slid down to your pants and undid them enough for it to slip into your panties. His lips parted the slightest as he exhaled shakily when he felt how wet you were. Tracing your slit with his thumb, he spread your arousal and you couldn't help but buck your hips into his hand when he grazed your swollen clit.

“And you?-”

Both of you cursed when his middle finger slowly entered you with a squelching noise. Your pussy squeezed around it but you kept mewling about how it was not enough. You needed more. More of him. Further profanities spilled out of Togame's mouth, and both his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your bottoms before his husky voice reached your ears again. “Fuck. Lift those hips for me.”

In a swift motion, he helped you rid yourself of your pants and panties before he nestled himself back between your thighs. This time, however, you felt two fingers carefully pry your walls apart until they were knuckles deep inside you.

“M-Me?” He made it hard for you to think straight. Hell, even looking at him was difficult when your eyes nearly crossed as he kept grazing that spot inside you. Shit, he definitely had not forgotten how your body needed to be touched to get the right reactions out of you.

“Yeah. You and Hiragi apparently.” You keened when the pad of his thumb drew circles over your clit. Slowly. Way too slowly. “At least, that’s what I've heard.”

Your eyebrows creased when the coil in your stomach started to tighten, but you knew that you were nowhere near relief. Sex with Togame was never fast or rushed. The line between foreplay and the actual act was blurred, because you didn't think that the former was even necessary with him. One look of his was enough to make your legs quiver and spread wide for him. But he had always preferred taking his sweet time with you.

You need to savour the good things in life. That was what he had always told you while you'd watched his face disappear between your thighs.

You whimpered his name when his fingers stilled inside you, your walls desperately clenching and unclenching as if wanting to pull them in deeper. “I-It’s true but it was not like that. It’s not like we went out on dates or-”

“But you did fuck, right?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The clock on his bedside table ticked. Time kept going forward but you were frozen, and there was this sudden feeling of guilt tugging at your heart. It was the same guilt that had made it so hard to even get aroused whenever you had lain down in Hiragi's bed. The same guilt that had made you sob in his embrace whenever he actually did bring you to orgasm. The same guilt that never seemed to leave despite his reassurances that you did nothing wrong, that you had nothing to be sorry for, that everything was going to be alright.

You tried to come up with so many things to forget Togame. To distract yourself. Up until this day, you were not sure how Hiragi had ended up being the one to keep your bed warm. Maybe it was the familiarity. Being intimate with another person that you had known for years and trusting them seemed to be easier than meeting someone new. But in the end it did not even matter because nobody could ever make you feel as warm as the man right in front of you.

Wordlessly, as if too embarrassed to say it out loud, you nodded. Though, your heart squeezed painfully at the hurt expression on his face, and the sudden jerk of his fingers inside you made you gasp audibly. His hand beside your head clenched into a tight fist before he spoke lowly.

“You did, huh? Was he any good? Tell me, did he make you cum?”

Togame watched your eyes glaze over with unshed tears the second he spoke, and he regretted it in that same instant. When did he stoop so low? It was not like he had any right to be upset, though the simple thought of someone else touching you, kissing you- It drove him mad. Especially because it was his own fault for letting you go.

“Damn it. I'm sorry, doll. I didn’t-”

“He did-” The words quickly tumbled out of your mouth. Almost too quickly for Togame's liking, though he did not deny you when you fisted the front of his shirt and ushered him to lean in closer to you. As if it was second nature, he kissed you so softly when your lips started quivering the slightest bit. There was a tear that rolled down your temple that he wiped away before his lips delicately connected with the apple of your cheek. He cooed when you sniffed and wrinkled your nose, and left some more kisses along your face until you seemed to be calm enough to resume.

“He did but it meant nothing, I swear. Every time I c-came... I thought about you, Jou. ‘T was always only you.” You swore you were starting to see things when Togame's eyes turned glassy, the green in his eyes sparkling brightly in the dimly lit room. He didn't even give you a chance to utter another word before his lips were on yours. Your teeth clashed and his tongue slipped into your mouth, licking and sucking at every bit of you that he could reach. The kiss was urgent, almost dizzying. He was kissing you as if he was trying to savour every last bit of you, as if he feared that you would slip right through his fingers.

"Jou-" Your palm lay flat against his chest as you tried to push him back and let you breath for a second, though the moment you noticed how fast his heart was beating beneath your hand, you let him. You let him have all of you because you realised that he needed it. You both needed each other.

The empty feeling you suddenly felt was nearly painful when he planted both forearms beside your head, his lips travelling lower to your neck where he stilled.

"Tell me that you won't leave again, please. I-I've been feeling so lost without you." He croaked, his voice raw and weak as he pressed his forehead into your collarbone, his skin feeling how against yours. "Shit, Choji's been giving me hell because I couldn't stop acting like a goddamn loser."

Your bodies quaked as you laughed tiredly, and when Togame lifted his head to look at you with red, droopy eyes, you could feel your heart doing summersaults.

"Just come back to me-"

"Hey." With nothing but utter care, you cupped his cheeks in your palms as if he was the most delicate thing in the world. Your thumbs brushed over the wet stains along his cheeks, and you realised that this was meant to be. You realised that you had to lose each other in order to love each other. "I'm here now, alright?"

Seeing the timid smile slowly stretch across Togame's face, made you feel so warm and tranquil inside. Even more when, out of the blue, he grabbed your face and started peppering kisses all over it until all you could do was succumb and simply giggle at his sudden eagerness.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are. My baby's here." He mumbled between each little peck before his lips hovered right above yours, your breaths mingling until you felt like you were about to breathe each other in.

Amidst the serene silence that lingered in the room, the clock kept ticking though you couldn't hear it. It's like time was frozen, and all that existed in that instant was you and him. That's how it will always be. Only you and him.

"Jou?" You eventually muttered his name after another beat of silence.

"Hm?"

"Can we please fuck now?."

"Yes, ma'am."

#togame jo #jo togame x reader #wind breaker togame #togame smut #togame jou #jo togame #jou togame #togame jo x reader #wind breaker x reader #togame jo fluff #togame fluff

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megalony · 2 months

Text

He Owns The Club

This is a new kind of Buddie x reader imagine I had an idea for based on a gif.

I hope you will all like this, please let me know what you think and if I should do any more ideas like this.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff

@jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Buddie Masterlist

Summary: Evan isn't sure what he's getting himself into when he lets Eddie take him to a club. A club that is much more than it first seems where the stakes are even better.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So uh, you never… you never said where we're going." Evan scratched the back of his neck as he followed after his friend.

He would follow Eddie anywhere. All Eddie had to do was smile and Evan felt instantly at ease and like he could be lead anywhere and still feel completely safe and secure. But he didn't like not knowing where they were going.

Being told to 'dress to impress' wasn't something Evan was used to and it wasn't the sort of dress code he was familiar with.

What did that mean? Who was he trying to impress? There were very different meanings if Evan was supposed to be impressing a lady or impressing some of Eddie's friends or their colleagues. A suit and tie would be to impress someone formal, someone with something to prove. A manager who could give them a promotion. Someone who could offer them something.

Impressing a girl meant wearing a tight set of trousers and a short sleeved shirt that was one or two sizes too small to show off all his attributes.

Evan had been so frazzled and flabbergasted at those instructions that he wasn't sure what to wear. It took him ten times longer than usual to finally settle on something.

A suit. Dark blue trousers that were starched and had been ironed to a crisp so that they could stand up all on their own. A matching blazer jacket that was just a little on the small side when it went over his shoulders. Enough so that it looked fetching, but if Evan tried to button it up, he would be in trouble. And a dark magenta dress shirt with the top two buttons undone so he could actually breathe.

"I told you, we're off for some fun." Eddie's reply was short but full of questions and Evan found himself huffing.

That wasn't the kind of answer he was searching for. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He didn't like being cryptic, he liked clear instructions and information.

The way Eddie arched a dark brow made Evan shiver and when Eddie patted the back of his hand into Evan's chest, it caused his heart to stutter. He let out a short breath and found his blood fizzling in his veins when Eddie leaned over him.

He opened the door on Evan's left and motioned with his hand. Evan hadn't even realised the car had stopped. He slowly clambered out, catching a quick glance over his shoulder at Eddie and furrowed his brows when he realised Eddie didn't pay the fare. He climbed out after a few exchanged words with the driver who only grinned, somewhat mischeviously.

"A club?" Evan was surprised, he couldn't hide that from his voice.

The lights were bright. Flashing royal blue and blinding white lights flickered on and off in intervals, all lined up in an oval around a club doorway.

Evan could see through the old-style windows with square glass pannels. People were dancing, lights were blazing so brightly it was giving him a headache already. And if that wasn't enough of a giveaway to where they were, the music was pulsing through the air like a defibrilator on full blast. He could see bodies mashed together on the dance floor, forms huddled in quiet corners that weren't really quiet at all. People thinking they were being discrete when Evan could see exactly what they were doing; acts that would make him blush if he were any closer to them.

His foot lifted up, about to walk up the three steps that led to the doors guarded by two bouncers who were eyeing them curiously. No, not curiosity in their eyes, but familiarity. Eddie must have been here before.

But he didn't go up the steps, not when Eddie's fingers found his elbow with such a firm grip that Evan almost stumbled backwards. He twisted his head to the right, looking sharply at his friend who ticked his head to the side and started walking.

Were they not going to the club after all? Why had they pulled up right outside the club if this wasn't their destination for the evening?

"This way," Was the only clue Eddie gave. He tugged on Evan's elbow before his touch was gone and Evan felt suddenly lonely.

He obliged like a dutiful dog following its owner, but his eyes kept glancing behind him towards the club they were walking alongside.

Five steps away from the main doors, Eddie undid a gate in the metal fencing that blocked off a set of stairs leading down to what Evan would have presumed was the cellar beneath the club. All the houses on this block were old. The club was a set of four, maybe five old houses combined into one big unit.

Once upon a time they would have been flats and all the flats had lower levels beneath the pavement like this.

Why was Eddie going down here? How was he allowed to go down there? How did he even know what he was doing down there?

Eddie wordlessly headed down the stone steps, bypassing the large bay window that had thick black curtains pulled across so no one could see in or out. At the bottom of the stairs was a large metal door that clearly wasn't part of the original architecture.

Three sharp knocks on the door, a single pause, and then one long knock on the door seemed to be the secret access code. Evan watched Eddie's knuckles, that were unusually bruised and cracked tonight, tap on the metal with a demanding urgency that needed to be addressed.

Not a moment later, the door opened and a catfish grin spread across Eddie's lips. He nodded silently to the man who opened the door and waved for Evan to follow, as if he would go anywhere else right now. Evan was too far in to turn around now and his curiosity was peaked, he needed answers and he wasn't leaving without them.

The hallway was narrow and called for single file and Evan realised once the door was closed that he couldn't hear any music from the club up above them. Were the walls and floors soundproof down here and if so, what for?

Eddie led the way down the corridor and Evan peered over his shoulder to see the young man following behind him with his hands clasped together behind his back. Very formal. Very strange.

A left turn into a larger hallway. A right turn into a vast but overheated kitchen that sparkled like something out of a magazine with how shiny the counters were and how bright the lightbulbs seemed to be.

And through the kitchen they went, into what seemed to be three or four rooms all busted through into one large room, the size of Evan's loft, doubled. A casino, it had to be. There were poker tables set up around the room, large circular tables with leather trims and velvet, lime green bases that reminded Evan of astroturf.

A person in a tux at each table who had to be the dealers. Packets of unopened playing cards resting at their sides to make for clean games and no chance of cheating.

If there had been cigarettes in people's hands and smoke filling the air, Evan would have thought he had gone back in time to the twenties when prohibition was around and underground clubs were all the range if you knew who to ask. Clearly, Eddie was the person to ask when it came to the night life scene.

How did he know about this place?

"Ah, so our night of fun is gambling?" Evan's voice came out lower than he first intended and he leaned forward with his hands behind his back and his chin hovering over Eddie's shoulder. He wasn't sure where the nerve came from to stand this close to the one person at the station who could get his blood boiling without uttering a single word. But it was too late to move now, and Evan didn't want to move anywhere when Eddie turned to look at him like that.

Eddie's head twisted to the left and a shark tooth grin formed on his lips, flashing his pearly whites that sank down into his lower lip as something flashed across his eyes. The look was brief, but it made Evan's stomach flip, and when he watched Eddie rake his fingers over his chin like he was debating something, Evan could have melted on the spot.

"You said those bets at work were like child's play… so I thought I'd give you a challenge."

A subtle blush started to creep up from Evan's collar, along his rather tense neck and it bloomed over his previously pale cheeks, turning them fuchsia with swirls of crimson.

He had said that. He found it strange intoxicating when Eddie started boasting about his newfound math skills. And he liked how smug Eddie would get whenever Evan got a question right and started to place bets with the other members of their team.

"How'd you know about this place?"

A knowing smile fluttered over Eddie's lips and his index finger gently tapped the side of his nose.

So he was going to be like that, was he?

Evan rolled his eyes before he cast them around the room. There was no need to panic about what he was wearing. He had felt overdressed from the moment he put the outfit together, but now, stood here in a club with people in dinner jackets and women in dresses that reminded Evan of cocktail dresses in twenties movies, he felt like he fitted in rather well.

And when his eyes raked over Eddie for the hundredth time that night, he took a deep breath to calm his feverish senses.

Eddie didn't know how good he looked. Tight fitting blue trousers just a few shades lighter than Evan's. A high-neck jumper that sat an inch or two below his jaw and looked like a thick collar- or a thick belt- wrapped around his neck. The navy blue jumper suited Eddie, all dark colours seemed to make him stand out rather than blend him into the background. And the royal blue blazer jacket he wore which again, was a few shades lighter than Evan's own clothing, was inviting to say the least.

The blazer clung to Eddie. It made his shoulders look broader. It puffed his chest out and made his muscles look confined and restrained like they were desperate to break free from his clothing.

And when his hand rubbed along the light coating of stubble on his chin, Evan could have melted into a puddle on the stone floor.

But he didn't. He held himself together with laboured breaths to regulate his system and followed Eddie who again took the lead. He thought Eddie would make pleasantries with the people here, after all, everyone kept looking his way which gave the impression that he was a regular here.

A round of adrenaline sparked through Evan's system when Eddie led them towards the table in the centre of the room.

They weren't going to sit on the outskirts. They were going for the bullseye, dead centre, where the most laughing and the most chips were on the table. Eddie was the embodiment of 'go big or go home' tonight, and Evan didn't know what to do with that information.

There weren't as many people at this table, but it seemed to be the the fullest one in the room somehow. More boldened, more exclusive, if that were possible. Or perhaps it was just Evan's perception of the table and the atmosphere in the room.

He took his seat and watched Eddie sit down next to him with such an air of confidence that showed he had been here more times than one.

The way Eddie sat in his chair had all eyes on him. He slouched down, but he didn't look uninterested or like a teenager unhappy to be here. If anything, slouching like that made him more confident. His left leg stretched out beneath the table, his right leg crossed over and showed off his tensing thighs and how his trousers were straining to contain his thighs and his knees without breaking.

His left hand rested on the leather edge of the table and his short nails began to tap against the dull brown that was worn and faded with age. While his right elbow propped up on his thigh and his hand curled into a fist beneath his chin, keeping his head up and his eyes on the table.

He didn't have to say anything for chips to be placed in front of him and Evan, and it made him smile tepidly. He didn't want to smile too bright or attract too much attention tonight. Not yet, anyway.

Eddie started to relish in the way he could get Evan to look shocked, bewildered and amazed, all at once and all for different reasons.

When Jess, one of the waitresses, timidly approached the table and set down a martini in front of him and Evan, Eddie's smile turned sweeter. He winked at her before uttering a quiet "Thank you," before she left.

He relished in the fact that Evan was shocked they hadn't given a drinks order and yet the waitress seemed to know exactly what Eddie would like. Of course she did. Eddie wouldn't be very happy if none of the staff knew his preferred drink. And they could all see that Evan was here with him, and therefore would most likely want the same drink too.

And he relished the way Evan's brows lifted and his tongue darted out across his lips, catching the remnants of sugar from the rim of the glass. He liked the martini. Eddie hadn't often seen Evan drink something other than beer or shots, but he guessed he had a sweet tooth. He had been right.

The dealer, Marcus, dragged his thumb across the edge of the deck in his hands, creating a vibration that was like music to Eddie's ears. He watched intently as Marcus started dealing out the cards to the four other people at the table before he stopped and looked over at Eddie.

"In or out?" His expression was calm but his smile was careful. All the workers here were careful when it came to Eddie.

Eddie kept his hand beneath his chin but when he raised the fingers on his left hand from the edge of the table, Marcus nodded. Eddie didn't want to play yet. He wanted to observe. He wanted to see if Evan was going to be as good at poker as he was at math. He wanted to see if Evan's skills could be put to good use, if he could fit in here. Eddie wanted Evan's face to be a regular at the club.

This was Evan's first game and he could feel the nerves pulsing through him. He took a large gulp of the martini, almost draining the glass before he looked back down at his cards. He knew how to play, and he knew how to count the cards and add up the numbers. He knew how to guess what everyone else's cards were by watching which sets they dropped when they exchanged their cards. He knew if they dropped the high numbers, they were going for a lower set and if they exchanged hearts, then they clearly had a set of diamonds, spades or clubs.

But the nerves still hit Evan, because of who was sat beside him.

He didn't want to lose and make Eddie think bringing him here was a mistake. He didn't like the thought of losing the first game and then losing his bottle and his nerve and going on a bad streak.

More importantly, he didn't want to disappoint Eddie, in any way.

"Your bet."

Evan nodded, rolling his lips together as he looked down at his set. Aces and a row of Spades starting from the King and going down to ten. He had a good hand. But he didn't have a flush or a full run. Was it worth upping the bet if he could fold and lose the least amount of money? Was he right in guessing the elder gentleman across the table was bluffing with a high bet?

A shiver rushed down Evan's spine and his body jolted when he felt a pointed chin pressing down on his shoulder.

He felt Eddie's hot breath on his neck and his strong fingers squeezing his thigh and it made his breathing stutter and come to an abrupt stop. What was Eddie doing? Was he trying to wind him up? Was he trying to put him off and make him lose?

Didn't he know how this worked? They didn't play in teams when they played poker.

Why weren't the others at the table saying anything?

"Go high." The words tickled the shell of Evan's ear, but he couldn't make any sense of them or work out what was happening. Not until Eddie's right hand grabbed a stack of green chips and pushed them into the middle of the table, placing the bet for him.

Evan rolled his lips together and tried to focus on regulating his breaths, in through his nose, hold for three seconds, then out through his mouth. It wouldn't do him any good to get hot and flustered when the night had only just started.

He worked on controlling his expression, he needed to keep a poker face and he guessed he did a good job because when he laid his cards out, he could see the look of surprised faces staring back at him.

His fingers began to tremble when the chips were pushed towards him. His winnings. Could they even be classed as Evan's winnings when he hadn't bought those chips? Had Eddie bought them beforehand when he arranged for them to come here? Because clearly people were expecting them. Was Eddie a high stakes player here? How did he have so much respect from everyone?

Evan watched the way the man opposite him tossed his cards down. Two meager pairs, nothing to win on unless he pulled a good bluff and got everyone else to fold.

It looked like he was going to say something by the way the anger fuelled his eyes and he glared deeply at Evan. But one look at Eddie curbed his anger immediately.

With a raised brow, Eddie pressed his fist to the base of his chin just beneath his lower lip. While his fingers on his left hand pressed down into the rim of the table and his index finger slowly started to tap along with each passing second on the clock. A warning.

He wasn't having anyone throwing a fit tonight, especially not at Evan. This wasn't beginners luck, this was Evan doing what he did best and Eddie was going to make sure no one said anything to him for it.

This was Eddie's club, after all.

***

Evan cast his eyes around the club for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He kept taking in new details and familiar faces he couldn't quite place. He noticed the cealing was slightly domed in places, as if it were a chapel from a country castle or an ancient wine celler or the catacombs. He wondered how many layers of stone there were up there to keep such noise and atmosphere from the upper lounge club from seeping down here.

All Evan could hear was the slow music from the speakers in each corner of the room. Sometimes a Spanish song came on and Evan would catch Eddie nodding his head along, clearly knowing the tunes. The odd jazz one came on every once in a while and really made the atmosphere feel like what Evan guessed the twenties had been like.

He looked ahead at the tables while he slouched his right arm on the bar counter, another cocktail in his left hand. He didn't want to drink too many and go off his game, especially when he seemed to be on a winning streak so far.

But when his eyes roamed over the tables, his blue orbs locked onto a familiar face blended into the crowd.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Evan noted the way Eddie had his back to him. He was on the phone to somebody. Evan didn't want to interrupt, and he didn't need to be babysat, he knew what he was doing by now and he could go and have some fun while he waited.

Drink in hand, Evan pushed off the bar and weaved through the tables until he sat at the one at the far left. Up to now he had only played on the middle table which seemed to be the one with the highest stakes and the more regular visitors.

"Fancy seeing you here."

(Y/n) lifted her head and tried to stop herself from tensing up when she felt a hand on the back of her chair and a body leaning over her.

A soft smile curved on her lips when she looked up behind her and realised it was only Evan. She let herself relax and her eyes followed him as he moved to sit down in the spare seat next to her. There were only two other people at this table besides (Y/n).

He hadn't seen her in a while. She worked at dispatch with Maddie and he knew she often babysat Chris for Eddie on occasion when he needed her to. Evan got along well with her. That smile could get her anything she wanted. It was like Eddie's smile, it made Evan weak at the knees.

"Are you winning?" She asked as if she already knew the answer and it made Evan look at her with a quizzical smile while he reached into his pocket and fished out a handful of chips. The rest were sitting on the middle table, waiting for him to either bargain with them or cash them in.

"What about you?"

"I'm doing alright," (Y/n) let herself sink into her chair while her fingertips tapped against the chips in front of her. She was doing okay considering she hadn't been here long, and she wasn't used to playing without Eddie's assistance. "Has Eddie been helping you, or are you winning on your own?"

Her words weren't snappy or rude and the way she smiled and tangled her fingers in her hair behind her neck had Evan's stomach fluttering with adrenaline while his heart lifted.

"He makes the bets, I win the cash." He dragged a hand through his short curls, ruffling them on his head while his shoulders hunched forward and he twisted to look at her properly. "I didn't have Eddie pegged as a gambling kinda guy, you know. But everyone here keeps watching him, does he win a lot? I haven't seen him play yet."

A confused look crossed (Y/n)'s face and the small curve of her lips had Evan straightening up in his seat.

What had he said? Had he done something wrong? Was he not supposed to ask things like that?

"You- you know this is his place, right? Eddie owns the club." (Y/n) sank her teeth into her lower lip and leaned both elbows forward onto the table, leaning closer into Evan's side.

Had he really not known? How did he come down here and not know that Eddie was the one in charge?

Granted, it wasn't something any of his team at the station knew, it wasn't something Eddie liked to flash around. He didn't tell people he met on the street that he was the owner of a club and had a gambling ring going on. Nothing illegal, at least as far as anyone else knew. But it was strange that Eddie hadn't told Evan this was his place. He told (Y/n) the first time he brought her here, and it was obvious to the naked eye.

The way the staff all knew his favourite drinks and never questioned him when he joined or left a game. They knew how many chips to place in front of him and didn't ask for his cash first. They knew he could roam around and go anywhere he liked. He had the discretion to kick people out if he didn't like their attitude or if he thought they were cheating or getting too big for their boots.

Everyone was nervous around Eddie because nobody wanted to be the one to get on his bad side. It wasn't pleasant to be on the other side of Eddie and see the darkness seeping through.

"I… that makes sense." Evan's voice lost a little power and his words turned to a whisper while his jaw hung down.

He did not know that.

But it made sense. It was why Eddie knew exactly where to go and how to get in and no one questioned him or asked why he was here. No one even came over to talk to him, everyone was too meager to even try. It explained why he didn't have to ask or pay for drinks and why he was given his playing chips without giving any cash first. It was why everyone kept looking at him and therefore looking at Evan, wondering who he was and why he was here with the boss.

It was why no one was questioning or arguing with Evan when he won, and why no one had kicked him out yet since he had won all night without losing a game.

Eddie was the boss.

With a deep breath, Evan ran his tongue across his lower lip as he leaned in closer so he could lower his voice but still be heard by (Y/n).

"Wanna make this game interesting? Fancy playing for something other than these?" He flicked a chip across the table, briefly glancing at the dealer who subtly placed the chip on the rack before continuing to shuffle a new deck.

"What did you have in mind?" (Y/n) couldn't help the way her lips quirked up at one side and she dipped her head down, looking at Evan through her lashes. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but she was intrigued.

He looked a little drunk but mostly in control and Evan was always carefree whenever (Y/n) bumped into him. Seeing him sat there in a suit with a cheesy grin and those sweet, drunken blue eyes made (Y/n)'s heart swim almost as much as when she saw Eddie sat at the centre table like a King among thieves.

"How about a date?"

"Sounds good to me."

Another jolt ran down (Y/n)'s spine and she tilted her head back over the chair when a set of hands clamped down on her shoulders. She could feel Eddie's fingers squeezing into her skin and she felt his abdomen pressing into her shoulders, keeping her upright yet caged down in her seat at the same time.

His voice sounded gritty and deep and his smile flashed his teeth and gave off an air of confidence that no one else in the room seemed to possess but him.

His words made (Y/n)'s stomach jump and had Evan's lips parting, unsure what to say to respond to that.

His eyes watched intently as Eddie leaned over, mumbling an unusually soft "Ola amor," against (Y/n)'s temple that he pecked.

Oh dear. Had Evan overstepped the mark?

He had always been intrigued by Eddie. Always wanting to be closer, to be around him, to be within his company and to admire him and touch him if possible. But Evan never acted on it. How could he? He didn't know what kind of response he could receive.

It always seemed safer to act on a feeling towards a woman than risk the reaction he would get if he hit on a guy. And (Y/n) was someone Evan found himself attracted to. He saw her when he dropped Maddie off at dispatch on occasion. He saw her at Eddie's place when she was watching Chris. He found himself thinking about her smile almost as much as he thought about Eddie's wolfish grin.

But if she was Eddie's girl then Evan couldn't hit on either of them and he would have to control how he acted around them. He was learning fast tonight that Eddie was in control here and Evan still didn't know the rules of this game. He didn't want to end up on the wrong side and make any enemies tonight.

(Y/n) feathered her fingers over Eddie's wrist and watched him sit down in the spare seat to her left. He nudged the chair as close as it could get to (Y/n)'s side and draped his arm over the back of her chair so he could nudge his nose against her neck and breathe in her scent.

She could feel his lips curving into a grin against her skin and his tongue dragged over her neck.

But once Eddie heard someone begin to tap their fingers against the table like they were becoming impatient, his smile faded and his head snapped to the left to look around the table. Two regulars.

"Leave." Eddie's voice was authoritive, his brow was set and his lips weren't curved into a smile, showing he wasn't playing around. Both men left the table without complaint. They had riled up the boss and sitting here was only going to make things worse. If they got told to disappear to a different table, then that was what they did unless they wanted to be kicked out of the club.

When they vacated their seats and left it so it was only the three of them and the dealer at the table, Eddie relaxed. He pressed his chest up against (Y/n)'s arm and leaned around her a little so he could get a good view of Evan, his special guest tonight.

"So, Buck, you wanna up the stakes?"

"I- I just thought, since I got all those chips… maybe we could change the stakes?" He wasn't sure why he was explaining himself and he knew the strength had gone out of his voice. He didn't want Eddie to get the wrong idea of him and he didn't want to impose or make (Y/n) feel uncomfortable if she was Eddie's girl and Evan had just hit on her.

But the way Eddie smiled made Evan's stomach rise up to his chest and had his heart doing summersaults.

"Alright." Eddie's voice was firm and with a nod of his head, he glanced at the dealer and clicked his fingers. "We can make this interesting. If you win, you get a date."

Despite the lack of confirmation in those words, there was no way for Evan to mistake the offer being held out to him.

It would be a date with the both of them. (Y/n) and Eddie.

That wasn't something Evan had ever done before, but the thought wasn't sending his mind reeling or making him back away. It was rather the opposite.

He couldn't help but lean in closer, scraping his elbows along the table as he inched closer until his arm was touching (Y/n)'s and his face was a mere few inches away from Eddie's. A date with them both. With the two people who had caught Evan's attention from the moment he met them. That would be Evan's dream, and by the look on Eddie's face and the way (Y/n) was biting her lip, they both liked that idea too.

"And- and what if you win?" Would the stakes stay the same? Would Evan still get a date if he lost? Or did Eddie have something different in mind for his own winnings?

(Y/n) let herself sink into Eddie's chest and her lips pressed against his temple in a gentle touch.

She didn't think Eddie had been serious when he said he would bring Evan along to the club tonight. And she was even more surprised that Evan seemed to eager to get involved with both of them. She hadn't thought that would of been his style or his thing, but he was seemingly open to the idea and that was sending excitement through (Y/n)'s core.

She tried to stop her hands from shaking and sat up straighter in her seat when Anton, the dealer, started sliding cards across the table to each of them. If they were going to play this game then they couldn't be leaning into one another in case they caught sight of their cards. Eddie liked to play fair and this was high stakes.

She watched her partner click his back into place and push his sleeves up to expose his wrists before he reached out for his cards. His expression was plain and stoic but one brow raised when he looked across at Evan.

He dragged his hand across his stubbled face, seemingly contemplating what he wanted if he won this game. This wasn't about money or pawns after all, he couldn't offer the usual winnings he would for a better game. He had to up the ammunition tonight.

"If I win…"

Eddie scratched his nails down his neck and tilted his head back, but his eyes stayed completely locked with Evan. Noticing the way his tongue darted across his lips in anticipation and he leaned just that little bit closer to the table. Not wanting to miss a single word.

"You're both coming home with me tonight." He didn't miss the way Evan's fingers scrunched into the playing cards he was holding. He could see the new cards, fresh out of the pack, become crumpled and creased in Evan's crushing grip while his palms began to sweat.

His jaw hung open and he stared at them both, waiting to see who would crack first, expecting one of them to burst out laughing and say they were only joking. But as Evan watched them and noticed Eddie be the first one to pick up a card from the dealer, he realised the game had started. And they were both deadly serious.

They didn't seem to ask what would happen if (Y/n) won the game, but Evan suspected she would be the deciding vote. She would decide whether they went home or went on a date. And something told Evan that (Y/n) wasn't going to win tonight.

She didn't often play unless Eddie was here playing with her and giving her tips. Whenever she played, Eddie practically sat on her lap and helped her along the way and no one dared to question him. Eddie hardly played whenever (Y/n) was here and it looked like it was going to be the same with Evan because until now, Eddie hadn't joined in a single game yet.

But these were the kind of stakes he loved to play for. Money was invaluable and insufficient. It was a boring child's toy when Eddie owned this place. He liked to play for something more powerful, more worth his time. And his expression showed he was fully intent on winning tonight.

"Okay." Evan nodded and waited for (Y/n) to take a card before he looked through the hand he had been dealt and switched a card out.

He was conflicted. He didn't want to lose, he had gone all night winning and losing right now was going to ruin his streak. That didn't sit well with Evan. But on the other hand, the stakes were better if he forfeited this game. If he lost, he was going to be in for what could be the best night of his life.

How could he pass that up?

His free hand began to tap against the table, drumming out a beat in time with the music in the background that was only just fizzling through his ears that were full of static. When he glanced to his left and looked down at (Y/n), Evan ticked his head to one side and his nose crinkled while his eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure why she was looking at him like that but when she leaned in closer, Evan tilted his head towards her so she could whisper in his ear.

"I haven't known Eddie to lose a game."

All the times she had seen Eddie play, she had yet to see him lose. And it wasn't just because he was the boss. People liked to try and beat Eddie because they knew he wouldn't be mad if they did. He liked a challenge and there was no downside to beating him, he wouldn't kick them out of the club or throw fists. He had the night time fights to let out his anger, this was to get creative and have some fun.

But when (Y/n) had been here, she hadn't seen her partner lose a game. He called her his good luck charm because he lost on a few occasions before (Y/n) started coming to the club, but with her here, he was on a winning streak.

Evan dragged his fingers across his freshly shaved jaw, unable to stop a chuckle from passing his lips as he nodded.

"Yeah? Somehow I don't think he's gonna lose tonight either."

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