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tteokdoroki · 7 months

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ೀ⋆OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS ━━ yoichi isagi + overstimulation !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. yoichi isagi + overstimulation. if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way! (5.6K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, street-racer!au, exes to lovers, toxic relationships, overstimulation, scratching, fingering, sweat kink, pain kink, food play (candy), dry humping, multiple/forced orgasms, oral sex (f!recieving), public sex, possesive sex, unprotected sex, street racer + fem!reader, ex boyfriend + street racer!yoichi isagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. slay! the third kinktober installment is here! i hope you guys like this one, isagi makes me so dizzy...i think he has the bes dirty talk!! enjoy mwah mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

there’s something about street racing that just…gets you off.

you’ve always enjoyed its thrill, the way having control over the wheel makes you feel when you push yourself to top speeds. adrenaline becomes your new dopamine. like a drug injected straight into your veins — driving makes you feel high. more alive than anything.

the glamourous pink S2K that you drive is your lover, the unpredictable twists and turns of the race course — your best friend. you adore beating men at their own game and looking absolutely fucking stunning at the same time. though, what you love the most, is the thrill of chasing after yoichi isagi.

next to you — your on and off boyfriend, isagi, is probably the best street racer in town. an unpolished gem of untapped potential and a beast of a driver. though with a man like that, competitiveness between you both comes easy — like a third party in your own relationship. its been that way since you met, the two of you falling into the toxic cycle of, racing, winning fucking and breaking up.

and as bad as it sounds, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you lose tonight, precious,” isagi wipes the grease from his knuckles with a rag as he approaches your car, cocking his head to the side with a smile so twisted it sends a pang of heat from your head to your core. together or not, he’s always had this effect on you — like a fog sweeping over your mind or the oceans waves pulling you under. “and we get back together.”

“boy, don’t you know i have a race to win?” leaning over the hood of your car, it’s your turn to tilt your head to the side — like a puppy dog, mocking him. your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you peer up at him, the pink of your tongue wrapping around finding a centre point for the bubblegum you’re blowing. it pops on its own. all the while, a flirtatious confidence seeps from your bones into the night air, luring isagi into your usual game of cat and mouse right before you’re due to race. “i don’t need any distractions, ‘ichi.”

you can’t help but revel in the way that he shudders upon hearing your name drip from his lips, like the finest and purest form of honey. out of all the girls he’s ever known, you’re the only one who gets him riled up like this without even trying — activating his raw instincts, that carnal desire he always has for you that he keeps locked away whenever you’re not together.

“baby,” crouching down to your height, isagi smirks as your predatory gaze follows his actions like a vixen in the night. “you know i’d never mess up a race of yours on purpose.” one of his elbows comes up to rest on your hood, the glittery vinyl stickers reflecting against the deep ocean blue in his eyes. your ex lets the weight of his head rest in his palm, a faux pout on his lips as he speaks to you. “how about it, wanna make a bet?”

you inch closer, close enough for isagi to catch a the whiff of strawberry candy in your breath over the thick sexual tension brewing between you both. “wha’do i get if i win?” you hum slyly, blowing another bubble into the face of your ex lover.

yoichi mirrors your movements, sliding closer to you so that he lick through your bubblegum, landing a breath’s width away from your sugar-coated and syrupy lips. “you win, ‘n i promise to leave you alone forever.” he rasps, pushing past the lustful tone lodged in his throat.

standing to your full height, you ruffle his midnight locks with a condescending air about it. “oh baby, you’re so silly.” the superlicious murder slips from between your perfectly glossed lips before you even think to stop it, accompanied by your light laughter. testing your man’s patience has always been your strong suit.

but before you have a chance to walk away, isagi hooks his fingers through your belt loops and tugs you flush against his tone frame — chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. “what, you don’t like those terms?” he huffs. “i thought they were perfectly reasonable.

“it’s just that… it’s cute that you think winning me back works that way.” shaking your head, you fail to let isagi have the last word and finally manage to pull yourself from the tendrils of his grip before you become putty in his arms and a mess under his gaze — that twisted mix of annoyance and desire already turning within your stomach, oozing into your nether regions in the form of liquid lust.

“fuck me,” a breathless and playful chuckle resounds in isagi’s throat like a tune base boosted on the stereo, only interrupted by a slick statement that serves to frustrate you even more. “so you’re sayin’ you don’t miss playin’ with my joystick?” he calls out to you while you’re still in eyeshot of his cerulean orbs — the ones that track the sway of your hips as you walk away from him. isagi wants nothing more than to dig his fingertips into the fat at your waist, pull your hips over his hardening cock as blood pulses through it and make you eat those words.

but he also knows, and from experience, the more pissed off you are — the better you’ll race and the more you’ll want to fuck him later on.

“i’ll start missing it when you get the right set of tools.” you sing back, sending a wink his way as you hope into the driver's seat of your precious pink baby, shooing off the girls who’d helped you prep your S2K for the race. he watches as you wave to your competitors, buttering them up with your charm before you leave them in the dust.

and even though he has no right to be jealous — especially when you’re broken up like this, isagi can’t help but want admit to you how seeing you race makes him feel. like now — how you drive right up rin itoshi’s ass and curse at him to ‘bend over’. everything has sex crazed hormones rushing to his cock and his head gets a little dizzy like he’s been inhaling car fumes and diesel for too long. you fuck him up like no girl ever has before — he’s completely obssesed with you, the ups and downs and fall out of your messy relationship.

he wants you. feverishly, carnally, and in every way possible and as you pull up in first place after the race — isagi realises, it’s not the race that makes him feel alive.

it’s always going to be you.

“you’re so fuckin’ frustrating.”

the cash prize isn’t the only good thing about winning your races, it’s the way isagi lives to devour you whole afterwards.

dark ocean eyes drink in the way your back arches from the hood of your car and it’s cool metal surface — chasing isagi in the heated and humid air, while his hips rock against your cunt almost in tune with the music in the background. the tune of your celebrations. “am i?” you grin, wild and delirious and breathless. “it’s not my fault. thought i told you to quit chasin’ me, yoichi.”

you giggle, earning a delicious twitch of his dick between your panty-clad folds, spreading a delicious layer of arousal over his clothes. your rival racerpretends to ignore your antics, knowing that he’ll only get riled up and instead focuses on tugging down your flimsy tank top to reveal your sweat shined skin.

“you could never get rid of me, baby.” you’ve never been immune to the charm of isagi’s hypnotic voice paired with his teasing rows of pearly white teeth that coast over your flesh until goosebumps rise over its expanse. your ex has a way about him, a way that makes it hard for you to shut him out and easier for you to hold your breath and deprive it of the oxygen you need to think clearly.

to think about escaping this toxicity.

sloppy kisses to taste the salt on your skin turn to little bite marks, barely there whilst leaving a warm shine to your throat — the temperature proving to be a lustful contrast to the cold metal of your car. he licks and sucks at you possessively, even when other racers pass by and in the back of your mind you briefly recall bachira hollering at the two of you loudly.

just as you reach out to him and wave back, yoichi grabs your wrists in one rough palm and pins them above your head — chuckling into the trail of wet smooches he drags down to your tits, followed by a wild whine that resonates deep in his chest when his cockhead catches on your rock hard clit from behind the many barriers of your clothes. you huff at your newfound restriction.

a slow, cocky smile spreads over the film of isagi’s lips as if he’s remembered something about your body, that only he knows, in your time apart. how it anticipates and tingles while waiting for his every move, craves to be ravaged and torn apart by him. “focus on me, baby. don’t miss what’s most important to you.” he drawls, gentle notes of condensation slipping into his usually chipper voice. “me.”

lifting his head from your chest expectantly, being a gentleman and waiting for your consent to kiss. another laugh escapes him when you writhe desperately in yoichi’s grip and wrap your legs around his taut waist to drag him closer for the lip lock you deserve. your prize for being such a winner. he follows your lead, selfishly trapping your lower lip between his teeth before toppling into a hungry kiss — his devious tongue delving it’s way into your mouth to claim it’s every inch possessively. the more you kiss, the more it knocks the lollipop on your mouth about.

all the while, isagi never stops grinding against you — cockhead oozing precum over your cotton decorated pussy lips and budding clit, painting you in the early signs of his arousal. the heat in the air only carries the scent of your sex and mingled notes of diesel fuel — enough to make you dizzy and crave more friction from the street racer as he ruts between your thighs. you’re growing delicious, letting ecstasy trickle through your veins and onto the hood of your car while yoichi drags his cock through your silken slit over and over again until his clothes and his erection are dripping in your sweet juices.

“didnt plan ever plan on… on g-gettin’ rid of ya, pretty boy.” you say through thready breaths, using the strength in your thighs to squeeze isagi close. maybe it’s the adrenaline from your racing high or the fact that isagi cages you in against the car, using his free hand to pinch and pull at sensitive parts of you while he humps at your fluttering and sopping mound — whatever it is, you can feel an orgasm approaching faster than you can register.

tucking your lollipop into your cheek, you gaze up at isagi with glassy, angel eyes — your mouth open as you pant his praises like a common whore. “did you miss me? i know he did.” then, your eyes shoot down to the rough outline of his dick as it makes you shudder, sex clenching over the veins on his shaft while you practically ride your ex’s precum loaded tip. your dirty talk earns a hearty moan from isagi, his tongue rolling out of his mouth like a dog in rut while he laps at the sweat bearing on your collar bones and neck. “missed my cock so much.” you goad adoringly, a little sick and a little twisted.

your possession over him fills isagi’s body with concerning amounts of desire and only serves to make him feral — snapping his hips into you faster and harder. his blue eyes drown in an ocean of mirth as they hone in on the light bounce of your chest, his tongue drips in the taste of your light perspiration while he finds his voice over your salacious bump and grind.

“missed you too baby. missed my fuckin’ pussy,” yoichi grunts selfishly, breathing heavy against your skin and adding to your chorus of shared high pitched moans the closer you get. with one hard thrust, isagi has your unused little hole drooling and your head flying back onto the car’s hood, banging against the metal. the pain only fuels the expanding fire of desire burning bright in your lower tummy — raising the temperature between your bodies. “she’s so sensitive, guess you haven’t fucked anyone while i’ve been gone.”

his voices oozes condensation, messes with your mind and drags you under the control of your toxic and selfishly possessive ex. it’s like he lives for the the way your thighs quiver around his waist and give all your neediness away, you can’t hide anything from him. he puts your pleasure under a microscope.

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” isagi grins evilly, letting go of your hands as he watches you tremble and spasm and twitch beneath him. rendered useless against the very car that got you to win your race.

he’s not wrong, however, for the knot that had been tightening up in your lower tummy begins to unravel too fast for your own liking. an orgasm crashes down on you like a heavy storm that’s escaped isagi’s deep blue eyes and he bucks into you monstrously through it all — hardly giving you a second to breath. your release pours out of you in a clear stream, your eyes disappearing into your skull and your shaky fingers into the roots of your ex’s hair as you tug on it to ground yourself.

it gets everywhere, seeps through your ex boyfriend’s clothes, splashes against your S2K and gathers in a pool beneath your shaky ass. yoichi coaches you through it with soft, loving praises as if you’d never been broken up. kisses that make your knees knock and breath hitch. you cum so fast, so hard and so soon that your lollipop rolls out from between your swollen spit slicked lips, but isagi is quick to grasp the sugary treat dragging it over your them and down your body.

he follows it’s sticky trail over your clothes, sucking its flavour from the planes of your skin. the sound of tearing fabric flies under the bustling crowd and revving engines — isagi having ripped off your shorts to expose your temperate, glistening mound to the night air and gleam of car headlights.

“h-holy shit, ichi! wait—!”

your nails sharply rake at the racer’s scalp in surprise, shocked at the warm-ish sensation of your lollipop pressing against your budding clit as it throbs between the slickness of your folds. “awh, is it sensitive? good.” he tuts down at you menacingly, his voice lowers scratching at the patch of your brain that controls your lustful drive. with the sweet treat still in his grasp, isagi rubs tight circles into your pleasure centre and grind to himself when your thighs instinctively jump apart to give him a better view of the even sweeter dessert between your thighs.

he knows you. inside and out.

knows what you even with how on-off your relationship is — as if he’s always been genetically programmed to make you feel good, get you that same high racing gives you. yoichi crouches, no longer standing over you so that he can get a whiff of your scent — the musk of your sex more dizzying than the fumes of gasoline throughout the track. “wanna taste you gorgeous, while you’re still cummin’ for me.” he groans, deep and hungry like he’s been waiting to eat a good fucking meal all day. “that okay?”

“please…fuckin’ hurry.” comes your impatient reply, bucking your hips up into the humid air as you chase the friction of the candy against your clit. you feel as though you’re seated right on the edge of another orgasm, inches away from crumbling off of the cliff of euphoria. “you’re so slow,” you heave again, head lolling to the side with your drool oozing onto the hood of your pretty pink car. “see you never learned how to use your…oh—! tools!”

your voice escapes you, shock intertwining with the electrical spark of desire running down the length of your spine to the heartbeat in your pussy. you’re surprised once more when isagi gently nudged the lollipop past your entrance to tease you — ripping it away when you gush like you’re about to cum.

sitting up and resting on your elbows, you glare down into mischievous blue eyes as he pops the candy into his mouth. “mother fucker.”

“alright, watch it.” the corner of isagi’s lips quirk up into a cocky smirk, enjoying how you writhe against cool metal in contrast to how hot your skin is to the touch. like a furnace, burning from the inside out.

“you said you wanted to taste me!” you whine, auffovating in the humidity and anticipation. you want him to touch you, but the ghost of kisses he presses along your inner thighs just aren’t enough.

“i didn’t say i was gonna eat you out though, pretty girl.” isagi whispers, pushing the lollipop into his cheek so he can focus on sucking an array of marks into the swell of your to leave his claim on you. the pointed edge of his teeth sink into the doughy flesh, imprinting a ring of bite marks in place as well. “dunno, don’t think you deserve it.”

he simply rolls his eyes in response, grunting as he spreads you even further — revealing the webs of cloudy slick that tie your shaky limbs together. yoichi drags a finger through your puffy pussy lips, it’s tip dragging on the silken strings of your arousal until he’s able to circle it over your clenching entrance.

you let out a defiant whimper, hips rising from your car while a trail of your sweet juices ruin the paint job on your car. “hate you.” comes your weak whisper, trapped in the lodges of your throat while isagi pressed further into your tight little hole and stretches you open.

“yeah whatever.” he grins lazily, warm breath fanning over your pulsating mound while his nose nudges your sensitive clit. “that’s why you keep coming back to me, precious.”

the sensation makes your hips buck up, chasing the delicious friction of your ex’s fingertips against your soaked ribbed walls as they ripple around him. but isagi lives to punish you, make you work for your pleasure or torture you with it for leaving him the dust each and every time. his free hand splays over your navel, pinning you to your own car as a second finger joins the first inside of you — instantly curling to bare down on your spongy g-spot.

the cry that escapes you is raw and powerful, louder than any engine in any model of car — serving to remind isagi of where you are, how on display you are for the hungry eyes of his competitors. he takes this as a chance to remind everyone of who you belong to. no matter how much of a hot shot racer you are, you’ll always belong right underneath yoichi isagi.

he does nothing to soothe your whimpers and cries, thrusting his fingers deep into your squelching pussy as it echoes into the parking lot in a sweet symphony with your moans. you drool into the seat his palm, thrash on the hood of your car and squeeze down on him with a grip so tight isagi fears that you’ll never let him go.

“you’re so tense, baby. relax for me,” the man mumbles darkly against your sex. “what’ll make you feel good? should i play with this cute little clit too?” pressing a loving and syrupy kiss to the pleasure nub, isagi moans at your arousal as it pearls on his eager lips. “oh i knew you’d like that. my girl always likes it when her man plays with this messy pussy.” spitting onto your cunt, a sick laugh rumbles in yoichi’s throat as he fucks the frothy mixture back into you, drinking in the way you whine and writhe about the place. all for him. “c’mon, louder baby. let the people hear how pretty you are. how good i’m making you feel.”

saliva coats your tongue, making difficult to breathe between the languid push and pull of isagi’s fingers as they stroke at your insides. he has you ruined, for any other man— sticky and sloppy between the thighs. the both of you know that only he can get you like this.

and the sick part about it all, is that you’re fucking enjoying it.

the thrill of being watched by your fellow racers makes you act up, has you crying and moaning a little louder than usual — putting on a show for your ex as you fall back into your toxic routine. those sweet salacious sounds spike higher and higher the closer you get, the more isagi sucks on your clit and scissors his fingers around to press up against sensitive spots along your gummy walls.

“that’s it pretty girl, give it to me. louder. good girl, good job.” he coos into you oh so condescending, face coated with a crude mix of spit and slick that glistens under the artificial light from the street lamps above. a blistering sense of pride lodges itself in yoichi’s chest when you scream his name, tugging on the roots of his hair once more. “you can do better than that, louder.”

“ohmygod—! yoichi!” you yelp sheepishly, throwing an arm over your heated face. though it’s not in shame, you can hardly bring yourself to feel embarrassed about gushing on your ex’s face in front of your fellow racers and racing crew. the pleasure he gives you has you too far gone, like a smoke screen over your hazy mind. “g-god i’m… y-yoichi i’m close!”

“yeah?” he laughs breathily, flicking his tongue over your budding clit, pulling the lollipop from the confines of his greedy mouth to slap it against your quivering pussy as well. “you gonna cum?” it’s far too soon, far too much for you to be reaching another orgasm. but there’s been a steady pressure bubbling up just below your navel, tightening and tightening until it threatens to snap.

you shake your head pathetically, the metal of your car creaking below your hips as you try to run from isagi’s fingers wildly pumping in and out of you. “c-can’t!”

“can’t? you don’t wanna, hm.” he sucks his teeth, the sound layering softly over the lewd slushy noises echoing from between your thighs. “too bad. i don’t care. cum for me, precious.”

its like your body has a mind of its own, wilfully ignoring the pain of overstimulation as you cum for isagi once more. milky white runs down your ex’s arms in a boiling hot stream, squirting from your abused and used sex. white spots blur the edges of your vision and you shake violently all throughout your second high, the stacks of ecstasy isagi had been building up within you coming crumbling down and leaving you suffocating in your own dust-cloud of lust.

the rest of your arousal burns a trail down your pudgy thighs like fuel that’s been set on fire, and you can’t even tell what’s up or down anymore. “c-cumming! ‘m…fuck, yoichi.” you scream, chest heaving, head rolling to the side— pressed against your car’s cool surface. “please, i can’t.”

“already? you were talking so big before your race now look at you. s’all too much… poor baby.” isagi works you through your orgasm, controlling your every twitch and every aftershock until you damn near pass out.

you’re almost too far gone to register the sound of rustling clothes and the feeling of your rival (and ex) pressing himself over you. but then he’s patting your cheek lovingly, drinking in your sweet and tired expression with big blue eyes full of adoration before slipping his lollipop into your drooling mouth to pacify you.

“‘ichi…” you bleat, exhausted.

“yeah, yeah. i know, precious. but i think we can manage one more, yeah?” he asks you softly, a little more tender than before as he kisses your forehead, licking up a bead of sweat that runs down it. no matter how many times you break up, he’ll always be good to you. always check in with you. make you cum as many times as you can manage while still making you see stars. “need to show all those fuckin’ losers who you belong to. need to make you mine again.”

weakly lifting your head, you notice the slight audience of racers you’ve gathered while letting isagi fuck you publicly. all the men you’ve beaten in races over time, staring at the way your man ravages you like the sight is a cool glass of water. it would be a lie to say that the feeling of being watched didn’t send another spark of lust shooting down your spine.

“one more?” you question him and pout around the lollipop that tastes like you, big bambi eyes blinking up at your ex boyfriend.

“one more.” yoichi confirms, pressing his forehead to yours in order to coax a kiss out of you. “don’t worry, you can take it.” there’s reassurance hidden in his lustful tone as he lines his drippy cock up with your ruined entrance (having pulled it out earlier). he pulses to life against you, the blood rushing through his shaft teeming with desire for you. isagi lets you sit up on your elbows so that you can watch him bully his cock past your fluttering entrance.

isagi’s eyes gloss over with debauchery while you swallow him down, brows creasing in the centre of his forehead when he bottoms out inside of you — both of your mouths hanging open in hot moans. only adding to the humid air. blindly, he fumbled for your pretty throat, squeezing it gently with each clench of your slippery walls around his aching shaft.

“you won’t break, baby.” he tells you, drawing his hips back from the snugness of your cunt to set a slow roll to his thrusts. the feeling makes you cry out, hoarse and needy before being soothed by isagi’s leaking tip pushing along every pleasure spot he knows by heart inside of you. “try a little harder for me.”

his words leave you breathless and dumbfounded, every logical thought and smart-ass retort having escaped you while isagi’s milky, bulbous tip churns up your insides. your sexes slot together perfectly, his girthy dick wrapped in gorgeous blue and green veins keeps you nice and full and reaches the spots you couldn’t dare to reach on your own. isagi hands over you, supporting his weight on one hand, with his lips a breath’s width away from your own.

the both of you are love drunk on the sex-crazed hormones buzzing in the hot air between you — particles of lust smashing together the more your bodies start to sync up and move together. yoichi devours you, takes parts of your body and claims them with his teeth and tongue and hand gently squeezing around your throat. he fucks you with vigour, so hard that your car shakes beneath your ministrations and you nearly lose the candy in your mouth once more.

you return the favour, clawing up and down isagi’s back while his dark hair tickles your forehead, cascades down to your neck as he kisses you wetly and laps over the salt on your skin. everything about you never fails to pull him back into your toxic cycle. where he loves you, fucks you and breaks you. a satisfied groan takes root in his chest like a sturdy tree at the taste of you, his hips still pumping into you at a rapid pace, painting you with thick layers of opaque white that cling to your swollen pussy lips and clit.

“you’re mine, f-forever. not gonna let… mhm.. anyone else touch you.” he slurs menacingly into the junction between your neck and shoulder, finally letting go of your throat so he can push your knees into your chest — forcing his heavy cock into your cunt as deep as it can go. “never gonna let you go again, precious. never gonna let you go without my cock this king again. you’re fuckin’ mine.”

“all fuckin’ yours,” you drawl back with a delirious smile, dizzy from the new angle. your pleasure mounts once more but with the addition of a spark of pain from the overstimulation. yoichi knows your limits, he knows how much his precious girl can take but delivers it in the best of ways — sinfully bucking down into you so hard that his heavy breeders balls smack rhythmically against the curve of your ass. he succumbs to the tight grip your iron hot core has on him, begging him to stay and to never leave you ever again.

you have one another in a choke hold, falling into a synced up and salacious bump and grind against the hood of your car. every time isagi ruts into you, you clench down, gushing on his dick and covering him (and your car) in an early release.

“that’s right baby,” isagi seethes through gritted teeth, blinded by white and the stars from up above as he gets closer and closer to his high. he can no longer stave it off for the benefit of overstimulating you, strung along by each twinge of pain he feels from your nails forming crescent moons in his shoulders and drawing blood. “say it like you mean it. scream my fuckin’ name for all these people, yeah? you want me. the only man who’ll ever make you feel this good.”

you will yourself to speak but barely have the chance to with the way isagi fucks you sensless. you choke on air, following your biological instinct to rut up into him, whilst you’re reminded all the reasons why your rival racerwill always be the only man for you. he fucks you like he’s never loved you, like a stranger he may hate but he moans and mewls against you like you’re the only person he’s ever loved.

isagi doesn’t care about the racing, or the money or the people watching him ruin your sluice sex over and over again.

he only cares about you.

“c’mon baby,” he goads, licking up your cheeky nastily. “you can do it, tell me how much you want me. how much you love me, precious.” each syllable that he purrs out shoots straight to the winding, orgasmic knots in your belly. making them tighten painfully. “god, you’re fuckin’ milking me.”

so you wrap both arms around isagi’s neck, yank at his hair, rip through the skin on his back with your nails (because you know how much he likes it when you hurt him) and say. “i need you, ‘ichi. y-you’re the only one i’ve ever wanted!”

and that’s all it takes, to give isagi that last burst of energy to make the both of you really feel it. after one, two, three more thrusts — you’re both sent flying over the edge in unison. “m-‘my precious baby, fuuck, all mine. gonna cum…you better cum for me.”thick waves of viscous white cum floods your puffy folds, whilst yoichi bites down hard on your neck to state his high pitched whines, fucking his seed deeper into you until he calms down.

you’re in no better condition, squirting so hard that you almost lose your grip on reality. a world of colours flash behind your darling eyes when you cum for the third and final time that night, static ringing in your ears alongside the sweet symphony of your ex boyfriend’s moans and the groaning metal from your car.

you’re sure the paint has been completely tainted with cum by now.

by the time you finally come to and stop spasming around isagi’s softening cock, he’s peeling your sweaty skin away from your car to coddle you in his chest — shielding you from the hungry eyes of your competitors. “keep your eyes to your fuckin’ selves.” he snarls with teeth bared, despite how gently he holds you.

“easy there tiger,” you sigh, snuggling against him as exhaustion settles into your fucked out bones. “i think they know who i belong to now.” grabbing at his neck, you pull isagi down for a sloppy kiss — mewling happily at the taste of sweat, sex and sugar on his tongue before passing him the lollipop once more. “guess the money wasn’t the only thing i won tonight.”

“you’re kinda sick, you know that?” he laughs in response, but before he can kiss you again — the racing crowd starts to scramble at the sound of police sirens.

still curled into your (ex? oh what the hell) boyfriend, you crack a tired smile. “looks like we gotta split, boy.”

“you comin’ back with me this time, precious?” a smooch is pressed into your hairline while isagi gathers you into his arms fast — bundling you into the passenger's seat since you’re clearly in no state to play get away driver. he doesn’t bother with your clothes.

“you know that you can’t get rid of me, baby.” you got the keys into the ignition in time for isagi to slip into the driver’s side — steering you away from the scene of the crime. “i’m yours forever, remember?”

he only chuckles at that, wild blue eyes reflecting the blue and red cop car lights as he looks to you while speeding away.

“god you drive me crazy, i love you. you fuckin’ maniac.”

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steddie-island · 4 months

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Vixen

A (late) @steddiemas day 24 - For Someone Special (NSFW Gifts) WC: 2894 | Rating: E | Tags: Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, Steve wears lingerie, Eddie has a filthy mouth Find the full list of tags on ao3.

No matter how many times they did this, how many times he did this, it always made Steve’s stomach twitch with nerves. Even after eight years together he was afraid of the rejection, that he would do something that made Eddie look at him and re-consider all of his life choices. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, but the nerves were still there .

He pushed past the nerves like he did every other time, though, and zipped his jeans into place. They had a Christmas Eve party to go to, where they would spend the night around their friends and family and he would have to act like everything was completely normal.

“Babe, are you ready?” Eddie asked as he tugged on his ugly Christmas sweater– a bright green thing with little lightbulbs all over it that actually lit up.

Steve tugged his own ugly sweater on– a bulky red thing with Rudolph’s head on it, with a big red nose right in the middle of his chest that glowed brightly and bells all around Rudolph’s harness. “Ready.” “God, you’re so fucking cute.” Eddie pulled him in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “C’mon, let’s go. If we’re late, Robin might make us drive the kids home again.”

“They’re not kids anymore, Ed. They’re adults. They’re adults that can drink,” Steve chuckled. Still, he followed Eddie to the front door, where they grabbed their coats before heading outside. The party was in full swing when they showed up. One group was decorating cookies at one end of the table while another group worked to put gingerbread houses together. Everyone had on their own ugly sweaters, and Dustin had light up reindeer antlers to accompany his own, which had 3-D ornaments hanging off of it. They were immediately pulled into the activities. Eddie was dragged to the gingerbread house building station while Robin pulled Steve to the kitchen so they could make more cookies.

It was warm, and cheery, and everything that Steve had ever wanted Christmas to be. There was a part of him that ached, because it wasn’t the Christmas he’d had as a kid, but he had it now, with Eddie and Wayne and Robin and the kids that had all managed to make it here for the holiday even though they were scattered across the country now. It was enough to have him fighting back tears as he mixed up more cookie dough. “Dingus, haven’t I told you you’re not allowed to cry on Christmas?” Robin teased. She pulled him in for a tight hug, and if she was blinking her own tears away when their hug broke, that was no one else’s business.

They had dinner, and then everyone piled into the living room to open gifts. There were new books for Robin, records for Eddie– even though CDs had long since outsold vinyls. Steve had a new sweater, one hand knitted by Claudia that he hugged to his chest as everyone else opened their gifts. There were mountains of wrapping paper by the time they were finished. Steve once more got up to help clean up. It wasn’t something he was expected to do, but something he did anyway. He liked helping, being useful. Eddie curled around him when Steve took his seat again and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” he said, smiling against that golden skin. “Have I mentioned that?” “Once or twice.” Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s and caught his hand. “Are you having a good Christmas? Have you enjoyed your presents?” “It’s been… amazing.” Eddie grinned at him. “They’ve all been amazing with you, Steve.” Steve pecked Eddie’s lips. “This one isn’t over yet,” he said. At Eddie’s raised eyebrows he just smiled. “You’ll see when we get home.” “Will I now?” Eddie looked at him, clearly wanting at least a hint. Steve just grinned and tucked even deeper into Eddie’s side.

The party ended shortly after that, when everyone was yawning and eyelids were droopy. There were lots of hugs, kisses on the cheek, wishes of Merry Christmas and drive safe. That was one of Steve’s favorite parts, hearing all the love as they all went their separate ways. He hated the leaving, but all that love always made it more than worth it.

************************

“Where’s my other gift?” Eddie asked as soon as they were on the road. “ What’s my other gift?”

“Has anyone told you that patience is a virtue?” Steve teased.

“Yeah, and you of all people should know that I’ve never been very virtuous, Steve.” Eddie reached over to take his hand. “C’mon, I wanna know.” “Okay, okay. I’ll give you a hint.” He brought Eddie’s hand under the hem of his sweater, then pushed his fingers down… down… just past the waistband of his jeans, to where they could both feel the silky fabric underneath. The choked sound Eddie made brought heat into Steve’s cheeks.

“Jesus, baby. You’ve been wearing those all night?” he asked, eyes flicking over to Steve’s face. “Fuck… you’re gonna kill me.” “You haven’t even seen them yet.” Steve grinned as his nerves melted away, the way they always did when he got to see Eddie’s reaction.

“Don’t have to see them to know that I want to take them off with my teeth, do I?”

Heat pooled low in Steve’s belly. “Try not to tear them this time?”

“No promises, sweetheart.”

************************

They managed to get through the doors and to get their coats and scarves hung up before Eddie was on him. Cold hands slipped beneath his shirt, making him yelp. It was swallowed down by Eddie’s mouth as his back was pressed against the wall. Those hands he loved dipped beneath the waistband of his jeans to grip his ass through the fabric of the panties. “I want to see these.” Eddie was practically panting with need. He was hard and hot, and when he rolled his hips Steve could feel the evidence of his desire against his hip.

“Take me upstairs,” Steve encouraged. “Wanna show you. They’re so pretty, Eddie.” He buried his fingers into his boyfriend’s hair and groaned as those sharp teeth dug into his throat. There would be bruises in the morning, for the next few days. His chest thrummed at the idea, and he lifted a leg to pull Eddie closer. “Eddie, baby–”

Eddie broke away with a growl and grabbed Steve’s hand. They tripped over their feet as they hurried upstairs and into their bedroom. “I wanna see,” he breathed. “Wanna touch. Fuck, Steve, you know what you do to me?” He pushed at Steve’s stupid fucking sweater, tossed it into a corner of the room where the red nose would glow for the rest of the night. He nudged Steve back onto the bed and leaned over him. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart. Wanna get a look at those panties, and then I’m gonna suck your cock in them.” “Eddie–” Steve trembled as nimble fingers got his jeans open and down. Eddie didn’t stop there, he tugged Steve’s shoes off, tugged the jeans off of his legs, and when he looked up it was a million fucking wonders that he didn’t come in his jeans. “Oh, Jesus, sweetheart. You made yourself so pretty for me, didn’t you?” The panties were red satin, with white lace where they were cut up on Steve’s hips. The fabric dug in there, and Eddie had the desire to sink his teeth into those divots. Steve was still so strong, but he’d softened a little and Eddie was more than a little in love with it. He didn’t have time to worship those hips, though, because coming down from the panties were clips that held up red thigh highs with white lace trim.

“I’m gonna eat you up.” Eddie ran his hands up Steve’s calves, to his thighs, and leaned in to nose at his cock. There was already a wet spot against the fabric from how wet Steve was. “I”m gonna tear you apart, Stevie.”

“Eddie–” Steve gasped as Eddie’s teeth found his thigh, just above where the stocking ended. “Oh god – I’m all yours. Want you so bad, sweetheart. Fuck .” Eddie growled as he pulled off, only to latch on to the same spot on the other thigh. He hummed as he sucked and worked his teeth. Every moan and whimper that spilled out of Steve’s lips spurred him on. When he pulled off there were two matching bruises left behind. “Gonna take care of you. You’re my beautiful boy, aren’t you?” “Yes,” Steve practically sobbed. “Fuck, Eddie, need you to touch me.” His legs were pulled over Eddie’s shoulders, and then Eddie’s mouth was on his cock, further soaking the fabric. “Please, please–” “Beg so pretty. You beg so fucking pretty, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned and ran his hands up Steve’s body. “You’re so beautiful.” “Eddie,” he whimpered. “Please–” Just like he’d promised, Eddie tugged the material down, down, until Steve’s cock was free. “Gonna fuck you,” he breathed. “Gonna make you see stars with my mouth, and then we’re gonna make sure the neighbors file a noise complaint.” “Eddie!” Steve cried out as Eddie’s mouth found his cock and began tonguing at the head. He wasn’t sure what he liked more, the way Eddie spewed filth like he was made for it or the way he sucked dick. Before Steve could really distract himself with a debate, Eddie took him in, swallowed him all the way down and sucked hard.

“Oh god –” Tears pricked Steve’s eyes as Eddie worked him over. Deeper, with his tongue and his hands and just the barest hint of teeth dragging over the head of his cock. “Eddie– Eddie–”

Eddie just hummed around him and looked up through those long lashes. Steve would never get tired of seeing the love of his life looking at him so adoringly. His hand caught Eddie’s where it rested against his hip to hold him in place. He’d been keyed up since the car, and actually having Eddie’s hands on him was pushing him closer to the edge. “Not gonna last much longer,” he breathed.

Eddie bobbed his head, and with every movement that pulled him off of Steve’s cock he used one hand to keep stroking. His movements were tight and quick. Steve came with his free hand buried in Eddie’s hair and his back bowing off of the bed.

“Fuck– fuck fuck Eddie –” Eddie swallowed him down the way he’d done a million times before. Only when Steve's sounds started changing from pleasure to a little pained did he pull off.

“Kiss me?” Steve panted. He caressed Eddie’s cheek, over to his lips. “Please?”

Eddie slowly kissed up Steve’s body, over the soft expanse of his stomach and up towards his chest. At Steve’s neck he pressed a kiss to the hickey he’d left earlier. “Love doing that for you,” he breathed. “Love hearing the way you say my name.” He caught Steve’s mouth with a hum, and when those pretty lips parted he pressed inside, giving Steve a taste of himself. “Love you , sweetheart. All of you.” He ghosted his hand down Steve’s side and to his thigh. “I love you, too.” Steve nipped Eddie’s lower lip. “Know how much I love you?” Eddie hid his smile in Steve’s neck as he nipped at more of that beautiful skin. “How much, baby?”

“I love you so much that I still want you to fuck me even though you’re still wearing that stupid Christmas sweater.” He flicked one of the lightbulbs that was flashing up by Eddie’s ear.

Eddie laughed bright and loud as he straightened up. He tugged the sweater off and tossed it in the general direction of Rudolph. “Better?” “Much.” Steve pulled Eddie back in to kiss him slow and deep. His fingers trailed over all of that tattooed skin to bring their bodies closer together. He wanted more, always wanted more, but just getting to kiss and touch Eddie was always good.

Eddie ground down against him, reminding them both that he was still hard in the confines of his jeans. “I have another promise to keep,” he murmured into Steve’s mouth. Steve shivered and leaned up for a kiss. “And I have another present for you.” He nipped Eddie’s lower lip. “Do you want me to show it to you or do you want to find it yourself?”

Eddie all but growled into his mouth again. “I’m telling you, you’re trying to kill me,” he murmured. He stood up to shuck out of the rest of his clothes. “They better put Death by Steve Harrington on my tombstone.” “Stop talking about dying and get over here,” he said, and he nudged Eddie with his foot. “I wanna kiss you more.”

“So impatient, Stevie.” Eddie found the garter clips and unfastened them easily so he could tug the panties down but leave the stockings on. His lips trailed over Steve’s calf and up that beautiful thigh again. A glistening silver thing caught his eye and he choked on air again. “Oh. Oh, sweetheart. You’ve been wearing this all night?”

Wandering fingers slipped up, up, between Steve’s thighs and then his cheeks. The plug was warm and wide against Steve’s skin.

“All day.” Steve held himself open for Eddie’s viewing pleasure. “Put it in after my shower this morning.” “Christ.” Eddie gripped the plug and began working it against Steve’s rim, causing him to twitch and whine. “You’re fucking perfect. Made for me, weren’t you, sweetheart? You’re my good boy.” Steve rocked towards Eddie’s hand with another sound. “Please, Eddie. Been waiting for you all day. I need you.” “I know you do, sweetheart.” He tugged the plug out to the widest point, pushed it back in, back and forth to get more of those beautiful sounds. “I can see you now, opening yourself up in the shower and putting this thing in. Did you come then, Steve? Did you come thinking about me fucking you tonight?” “ Yes –” Steve’s thighs twitched. “Eddie, Eddie please, I need it, I need you, stop playing with me please –” It was so fucking much and yet not enough to get him off again. “Fuck me, please–” Eddie pulled the plug out once more, this time letting it come out all the way. His eyes were darker than ever as he slotted himself between Steve’s thighs and lined up against his hole. Steve watched those eyes as Eddie got situated, as his legs were over Eddie’s arms– As Eddie began working inside with quick, shallow thrusts that had his breath coming out in small puffs. The plug had been wide, but Eddie was wider. There was an initial burn, there always was, but it quickly melted away into pleasure so strong that Steve did cry then.

There was no time to beg Eddie to move, to beg him to do something. Steve was essentially folded in half with the angle they were at. Eddie caught his mouth in a sloppy kiss. His hips began rolling quickly, speeding up until he pounded into Steve’s body with a rhythm that had them both gasping.

Steve’s blunt nails slipped over Eddie’s back, his ass, his arms as he tried his best to hold on. The pleasure was just so intense, and he was losing it fast. The angle had Eddie so deep in his body, and the way the head of his cock kept dragging over Steve’s prostate was enough to deliver on the promise to see stars.

They held on together, rocked together. Eddie cursed against Steve’s mouth, and when he wasn’t cursing he was letting words like “good boy” and “beautiful” slip out. Every word of praise felt like it was branded into Steve’s skin. Eddie always did that to him, too. He didn’t doubt whether he was good, or deserving, or loved with Eddie.

Even though he’d already gotten off once, his second orgasm didn’t take long. It swept through and over him in waves. He sobbed Eddie’s name and left pink scratches over the parts of him that weren’t tattooed.

“Steve–” Eddie bit down on Steve’s lower lip as he buried himself. The tightening of Steve’s body pulled Eddie over the edge, had him coming deep inside of this man he loved so much.

When it was over he released Steve’s legs and fell to the bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but neither man was sure if their legs would hold them up long enough to move.

“Best present ever,” Eddie murmured into Steve’s neck.

Steve grinned and kissed his sweat damp hair. “Yeah? You liked it?”

“Love it.” He pressed kisses into Steve’s jaw. “Did you? Was it too much?” “Never.” Steve turned his head to catch Eddie’s lips in another kiss. “It was perfect.”

It took a few minutes, but once they were sure their legs would hold them they got up and made their way to the bathroom to clean up. They dressed in their matching pajamas that Wayne had gotten for them Christmas the year before and slipped beneath the covers together, with Eddie’s head tucked into Steve’s neck.

“I love you,” Steve murmured into his hair.

“Love you, too.” Eddie squeezed him tight. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

“Merry Christmas, Eds.”

#Steddiemas #Smutty Sunday #I'm sorry this is coming on a Wednesday lol #Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #My writing #My fic #I need an official 'my writing' tag

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soap-lady · 4 months

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A Wild Chapter Appears!

Hey everyone!

So I used to post a chapter every month of Worthy Opponent but eh...I kinda fell in with a bad crowd or a new fandom. I'll finish this story I promise but I don't have the same motivation I used to.

@arylace Is the best co-writer I could ask for and y'all have her to thank for this being finished.

@fantasiame, @g-arya, @lavenderjunes, @charlietheepic7, @ahenix, @delectablycoolscientist, @kaseykay17, @vio-march-0327, @mewwitch, @vixen-uchiha, @coolspidermanmusicflower, @lady-bee-fechin, @raeuberprinzessin, @symwinter, @frieddonutsweets, @seraphkitty, @friendsofthefairies, @nickristus-dreamer, @khneltea, @jumpingjoy82, @fan-written, @woe-is-me0,@corporeal-terrestrial, @queenmjean, @theymakeupfairies, @dorkus-minimus, @idk-j-go-with-it

Worthy Opponent 26

All of the crucial “will you go to the ball with me?” scenes were filmed and the crew was galvanized into action. Notre Dame Les Oiseaux was about to start classes again so they couldn’t use the theater. So instead they decided to create their own ballroom on a soundstage.

The set dressers and designers went all out, taking inspiration from an actual castle ballroom and adding a few of their own touches. Blue and gold damask wallpaper decorated the walls and they recreated the look of a marble inlaid floor with vinyl laminate. Statues of Greek maidens stood in little alcoves (they were only plaster, but the audience wouldn’t be able to tell.) and genuine glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Amelie arranged for a tiny stage for a string ensemble to perform live music and a dining area with a buffet table. Mme. Jennings insisted all the chairs be covered with satin slipcovers to prevent damaging the expensive costumes.

The younger cast was very excited to be showing off their dance moves but the crew tried not to groan when they thought of all the building and painting involved. Fortunately they were able to find a discount wedding supply store that had some lovely banquet chairs and already made slipcovers. Some were blue and the rest were gold. That was once less headache, courtesy of the mayor’s daughter, who was now using her connections for good. Or at least convenience. Amelie arranged for on-set massage therapists and chiropractors to help the crew after a few incredibly long and stressful days.

The Wardrobe Department was so busy Marinette had to be excused from filming to help sew and Mme. Jennings recruited a few additional seamstresses. It was rumored she’d recruited her cousins from Scotland but the women rarely spoke so no one really knew. They worked at a furious pace and soon costumes for the principal cast and most of the secondary were done.

Everyone was tired and stressed so Amelie declared the weekend before they shot the ballroom scene to be free time and arranged for a team movie night and a takeaway dinner for everyone who wanted it. Some elected to just catch up on their sleep.

Work wasn’t quite done for Marinette, Felix and Luka. She had two costumes to finish and fit and they had to try on their costumes to see if any adjustments needed to be made.

Luka practically bounced down the hall. Marinette wanted to see him alone! Well, she wanted to see him alone to see how well his ball costume fit and whether or not she needed to make any adjustments but still, any time alone with her lately was precious and hard to find.

He told himself he wasn’t jealous of Marinette’s new friendships with the cast. Being an actress could net her some excellent contacts and he’d eat his Jagged Stone guitar pic if Mme. Amelie and Allegra didn’t contact Marinette after the movie to make dresses for them.

It was also good she got along with Allen and Claude. He loved to hear her laugh and their stories of past movie shoots and pranks they played on each other on-set made Marinette giggle and helped keep her anxiety down. Plus, Luka didn’t get the chance to play with musicians who weren’t friends or family and Allen was as talented as he was smart and good looking.

He hadn’t spent a lot of time with Chloe. She barely spoke to him although he’d caught her looking him over once or twice in appreciation. Most of what he knew about her came from what his sister had told him about and it wasn’t flattering. For the last four years she had been bullying the formerly passive Marinette and his shy sister. She’d used her father’s position as Mayor to avoid punishment. Until this year when she suddenly stopped. Perhaps she was too busy trying to survive lycee without her usual enabling teacher and an education staff who told her “Daddy” had no power over them, only the Ministry of Education.

Felix…on the other hand…well, that was complicated.

Felix’s resemblance to his cousin was eerily similar and Marinette did appear to have a type. While Luka was relatively sure she was over Adrien and moving on, he had no guarantee she would move on to him. That was…fine. He’d told her he’d be happy for her no matter who she chose. He’d meant it; he’d back off and leave her alone to make her own choices, even if the person she chose wasn’t him.

That being said, even if he accepted her decisions, he didn’t have to like or agree with them. He’d smile and congratulate her but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. He might even be a little bit angry. He was allowed to be jealous, wasn’t he? He was allowed to be frustrated.

Luka couldn’t blame Marinette if she was attracted to Felix, looks aside. Felix was smart, charming, talented and confident. He was good-looking and aware of it, even if he didn’t exploit it. Watching the way Felix interacted with his mother and his friends, Luka felt he’d be loyal and respectful if he ever chose a romantic partner. Luka genuinely liked him and wanted to be friends, to hang out and laugh together. Maybe Felix played an instrument too. He should suggest the three of them spend more time learning about each other.

If Luka was honest with himself, he was getting sick of letting go of people he cared about with a smile and a wish for their happiness. He wanted to fight, to prove he was worthy, the better choice.

He wanted to be selfish, just once in his life. He deserved to be someone’s first choice and he wanted that someone to be Marinette.

Luka shook his head as his thoughts continued in loops: love, jealousy, longing, frustration. He couldn’t think that way, not in Paris.

He stopped outside the dressing room door that Marinette told him she’d be in. He took several deep breaths and mentally reminded himself to do some meditation and mindfulness exercises later.

*****

Luka raised his fist to the door and rapped with his knuckles. He didn’t have to wait long before hearing her call out “come in!” and he smiled before opening the door.

Chloe wasn’t sitting in the corner waiting to take pictures of him in costume and he asked Marinette why.

She just shrugged. “She said she had plans with Allen and told me she would get pictures of you in your Founders’ Ball costume when we shot the scene.”

He closed the door behind him. “So, we’re alone?”

Marinette smiled. “It’s been awhile hasn’t it? It seems all we do lately is work work work with hardly any downtime.” She sighed, sounding tired.

Luka grinned. “It’s worth it, isn’t it?”

She laughed, delighting him when her eyes brightened and cheek flushed. “Are you kidding? I’m going to be able to put ‘Costume Designer’ on my resume and I’m not even eighteen yet!”

He nodded and smiled at her. “And on your university transcripts. ESMOD would be drooling to have you after working on a Graham Films production.”

Marinette giggled and he wished they weren’t working so he could snuggle with her while they watched a movie. Or did nothing at all. Well, the money he earned on this film would keep his family literally afloat for months. The pay was leagues better than working as a delivery driver so he could afford to put some money aside for himself.

“And not only are you acting, but you’re helping create the score for a major film production,” her enthusiasm for his success was even greater than his own and he loved that about her. She grinned up at him and it was all he could do not to hug her. “Jagged Stone himself will be begging you to work with him!”

Luka chuckled at the unlikely but fun mental image of his music idol getting down on his knees and begging Luka to come work on his latest album. “Mom would love that.”

She giggled. “Oh, yeah.” She looked at him, still grinning. “It’s mind blowing that the two of them used to work together.” She frowned, thinking. “I wonder why they stopped. Creative differences?”

He remembered the way they’d argued at the docks. “With those two? Probably. But it’s just as likely if they were working with Bob Roth back then, he probably drove them apart so he could make more money promoting Jagged as a solo artist.”

“And your mom is way too independent to let someone like Bob control her,” Marinette agreed and they shared a laugh, thinking about Anarka Couffaine telling Bob exactly what she thought of his management style.

The laughter gradually died away and they were left staring awkwardly at each other.

Marinette’s eyes darted around the room, clearly looking for something else to say. “Um, yeah! Do you want to try on your ball scene costume now?”

He knew it was wrong to smile but even when she was shy and awkward she was adorable. “It’s what we’re here for.”

“I’ll go get it!”

She rushed to the storage room in the back and raced towards him holding a brown clothing bag over her head. She double-checked the outside tag with the inside tag to make sure she had the right costume and then thrust it into his hands. “Go go go! Change!”

She grabbed his waist, turned him around and all but threw him into the changing room before coming back and making sure the curtain was closed. “Come out when you’re done!”

He laughed. He loved his Ma-ma-Marinette.

*****

Luka slid the curtain back and hoped he’d put on everything correctly. “How’s this?”

“I’m sure it’ll need an adjustment here or there but for the most part it’s probably…whoa!”

Marinette nearly dropped her pincushion as she stared at him, eyes wide. “You look so good! It’s like you just walked right out of my sketch!”

He laughed and fiddled with the tie. “I don’t think I have this quite right.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad. Hardly anyone knows how to tie a tie anymore.” She crossed the room and reached for the tie, untying it as she spoke to him. “How do you like it?”

Luka allowed her to pull the tie off him, then raised and lowered his arms and let the fabric move around him. “It’s pretty stretchy and easy to move in.” He ran a hand down the front of the coat. “This isn’t leather.”

“No, it’s suede. Suede is stretchier than leather. It’ll move easier than leather during a sword duel.”

“Very smart.” He looked down at his feet. “I’m not sure dress shoes are really Watson.”

“Me either,” she didn’t look up from the tie she was trying to get out of the three knots he had somehow tied it in. “I was thinking of combat boots, not the modern kind. Mme. Jennings has some vintage that might have been her father’s. Are you still a size forty-five?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think these will still fit you. We might get them to stretch a centimeter but not as much as two.” She finally finished straightening out the tie and looped it back around his neck. “I think I remember how to do this from helping my papa. I’ll try to tie it for you but sooner or later you should learn to tie your own.” She glared up at him. “I can’t always stop to do this if you win a Cesar or a BAFTA you know.”

He smiled but she couldn’t see it. “I’ll do what I can.”

She didn’t seem to be interested in what he was saying while she re-tied the bit of silk around his neck. “I went with Victorian or Regency inspiration for most of the cast but for you I went Edwardian. Still muted colors but softer, lighter material. Not as stiff. I went with a summer wool which has more cotton but still that rough tweed look. It’s also a little stretchy because the fabric has some spandex in it.”

Luka wasn’t listening, he just let the lecture about sewing and design flow over him as he heard her talk about what she loved. Her eyes were bright and interested and her posture was confident. He let her turn him this way and that while she got his tie properly adjusted.

“I also thought a standard vest or waistcoat wouldn’t suit you or Watson so I went with an asymmetrical vest instead.”

Her small hands left his throat, which was good, because he was worried she could feel his pulse. Instead her hands skimmed over his chest and slid down his waist. He knew her touch was completely innocent but he had to close his eyes and try to meditate so he didn’t knock his hands away or worse, pull her closer and kiss her. Every time he tried to remind himself she was getting over someone and wasn’t ready for anything serious, it sounded like more and more of a lie.

Maybe she needed a rebound, someone like…Felix. He looked like Adrien sure but he would also be gone in a few months. Marinette might get hurt but hell, it would be over soon and he would be there to console-

No.

That would be cruel and manipulative, to both Felix and Marinette. He loved her and liked Felix. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their friendship, especially if Felix could help her with her career. Felix deserved someone who wanted to be with him long term and so did Marinette.

Okay, enough. He had work to do. And was Marinette kneeling in front of him and feeling his legs?

This was his punishment for impure thoughts and nearly succumbing to temptation. Oh, and doing something pretty dirty to Felix too.

“I think your pants need to be hemmed.” She was telling him. “I almost went with white but I thought stark white would look too harsh so I went with cream.”

Really, Marinette?

“Well, they look great.” He looked into the mirror so he wouldn’t be lying.

The black, gray and cream looked fantastic, contrasting without clashing. The straight bottom of the vest betrayed the slightest hint of shirt as he moved but he couldn’t have it too tight. The fingerless gloves were very rock and roll and would help him keep a grip on his sword.

Luka glanced at his hands. “Could the gloves have some metal studs on them?”

“I don’t see why not,” she made a note on her phone and then got back on her knees. “I’m going to hem these pants. Try not to move.”

Oh, this girl was immune to irony. “I’ll do what I can.”

She slid the ankle of the pant’s leg. “How’s this?

He looked down, “how far up can you raise it?”

“About a centimeter and a half. I want the pants cuff to look right.” She adjusted the pants again. “What about now?”

He looked in the mirror. “Perfect.”

Marinette pulled some pins out of her wrist cushion and raised the hem until she was satisfied, then looked at the mirror until the hem was even all around.

Luka admired himself in the mirror again. He loved it. He’d have to be careful not to get anything on it but Mme. Jennings told him they usually had a spare, just don’t take it for granted.

He looked inside the coat and found a long inner pocket roughly the length of a sword. She really did plan for everything. That would save them from having to stop filming to grab them.

She noticed his satisfaction and grinned. “I’m pretty good, aren’t I?”

“You certainly are,” he bowed and found it very easy in his costume, “Your Highness.”

She giggled and curtsied. “Please. We’re friends.” She made an elaborate show of offering him her hand to kiss. “Princess Marinette will do.”

*****

When had he stopped?

When had he stopped thinking of Marinette Dupain-Cheng as an opponent? Worthy or otherwise, he no longer thought of her as an obstacle or an antagonist.

That was not to say he’d stopped enjoying their verbal sparring matches. She was quick-witted and easily matched his intellect, matching every barb he threw at her with an adeptness that was as impressive as it was playful.

She no longer scowled at him when he needled her and took his criticisms of her acting with good grace and used them to improve her performance without taking offense. And to his surprise, he longer wanted to offend her.

He could admit to himself (and perhaps his mother) that he didn’t like her when he first saw her. She was lovely, with beautiful blue eyes and soft pink lips. Unfortunately she had been crushing on his oblivious cousin, who at the time had been pining for a superhero. It was pathetic and sad because anyone deserved better than to be someone’s second choice.

Now Adrien was dating Kagami and she seemed good for his cousin; strong-willed and fiercely independent. She could teach him how to stand up for himself; he brought out a gentler side of the fencer. They balanced each other rather well.

And for him? Well, he wasn’t really interested in relationships or romance in general but he thought he’d be a good partner for someone like Marinette. She needed more confidence in herself and someone to teach her how to be selfish every now and then and say no. He supposed she could teach him how to better express his emotions and challenge him and bring his ego down to size when he needed it. Which, if he listened to Allen or Chloe, was often.

Then again, there was Luka.

It would be easy but cowardly to dislike Luka. He was level-headed and mature and when Felix was being difficult or demanding, the older boy would just smile knowingly at him and Felix would feel like a nursery schooler having a tantrum. And he’d be good for Marinette. He knew how to calm her through her anxiety attacks and quelled her self-doubt. He was strong enough for her to lean on and teach her how to relax; that she was good enough.

He was growing fond of both of them and that surprised and worried him.

It was easier, simpler to be alone.No one could hurt, judge, or use you. He’d been through that before and swore he’d never allow himself to be that naive or vulnerable again. Yet, now he was thinking of the Quantic Kids and even Chloe as friends he could confide in. They had fun, whether it was acting, breaking a room full of garbage or a tabletop game. It would hurt to lose them now. He could, and he would survive, but it would hurt.

He’d rather not think of what it would be like to lose Marinette either. She was sweet and bubbly and optimistic but also had a snarky side he appreciated. She wasn’t tempted or intimidated by wealth, she was good at planning and strategy. Sometimes Felix wondered what his life would have been like if he’d met her when they were both younger. They might have hated each other, or been best friends.

But when had he begun to change his mind about her?

Perhaps it was when she pinpointed Lila Rossi as the person sabotaging the film and why. She immediately began to plan and even had contingencies in case her original plan failed. He appreciated someone who could plan almost as well as himself.

Oh, she was heavily flawed as well. She was humble to the point of being self-effacing, she gave so much of herself she sometimes forgot to save something for herself. She was independent and refused to accept help from him unless absolutely necessary. He found her persistence and tenacity annoying when she turned it against him.

Marinette became hyper fixated when something interested her but it was a pain in the ass to motivate her if something didn’t appeal to her. Then he had to fall back on his old habit of annoying her until she lost her temper and did what he wanted without her realizing it. And oh, it made her even angrier when she realized she’d been had!

She didn’t take his behavior lying down. More than once he’d found himself tangled in some homemade trap she’d made and then there was the time he found everything in his office that wasn’t in the safe on the roof. Including most of the clothing he’d been wearing. While taking a nap. He never knew how she’d done it and when he demanded to know she’d just smiled and said, “That’s too easy. Where’s the fun?”

She hadn’t attended a private school and lacked a pedigree but he’d much rather have her in his life than some thoroughbred social climber. Or his superficial uncle who insisted on keeping up appearances and hiding his middle-class background. Marinette’s lack of pretense showed more integrity and, to be honest; class.

She wouldn’t be bought or sold and she wouldn’t be talked down to. She just needed a bit more self-confidence. More of a spine, but not to the extent Adrien did. She needed a bit of polish to show her for the precious pearl she was. That and someone who could protect themselves and her. Well, perhaps not protect her, probably someone to fight beside her.

Felix shook his head to clear it. He didn’t have time to muse about anyone. He still had a movie to film, a supervillain to expose, and a city to protect. His conflicting feelings could wait. He put the girl out of his brain.

He stood up and took a few deep cleansing breaths to clear his mind of wayward thoughts and focus on the scene he was about to act in. Later he would go to the Wardrobe Department to be fitted for his ball ensemble. He wondered what Marinette had designed for him…

…

Dammit.

*****

When Felix was reaching for the door it burst open and Luka nearly ran into him.

“Sorry!” Luka backed up a step and apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention, just trying to get away.”

Felix’s brow furrowed. “From who?” Was Chloe hitting on him? Was Lila? He didn’t think either of them were near the dressing rooms today.

“From a very cute girl who was running her hands all over me and kneeling in front of me-” Luka broke off and frowned. “I’m sure she was being incredibly innocent but my mind didn’t take it that way and I had to get away before I could stop myself from touching her back.”

Felix looked all over the other boy. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was a little heavier. “Why didn’t you tell her to stop?”

Luka just shrugged. “I kinda didn’t want her to.” He gave Felix a similar look; examining him without being too intrusive. “I understand if that’s not your thing but I was in a bit of a difficult situation.”

He pointed to the hallway and Felix slid away to let him by. “No judgment,” he told the other boy, “but you’ll have to understand if I think you’re missing something.”

He winked and left and Felix was just confused. He heard Marinette’s voice from deeper within the dressing room. “Felix? Is that you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Apparently I’m here for you to put your hands all over me,” he muttered before he could stop himself.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I’m here to get my costume fitted,” he amended and she didn’t seem to hear what he said the first time.

“Okay. Come on in.”

He walked in the room and closed the door behind him.

Marinette was waiting for him, looking crisp and competent. She wore gray houndstooth dress shorts and a black turtleneck. Her hair was up in a bun and she looked professional and adorable.

Stop it.

She beamed at him. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Your costume is done but I want to make some adjustments if something is too long or too tight. And I want you to be happy with what I’ve designed for your character.”

He couldn’t help smiling just a little back. “I’m just an actor. I don’t get pissed off and moan about uncomfortable costuming. It’s not my place or right to complain.”

She gave him a flat look. “In a Graham Films Production? I’m pretty sure the co-director does have the right to speak up.”

Marinette went to the back to get him a costume to try on. After verifying the tags matched, she handed it to him.

“Hope you like it.”

Some mischievous part of him prompted him to ask. “Are you sure you shouldn’t help me change?

He thought she would get flustered. Maybe she’d be angry and yell at him. Then they would argue like their characters always did and he’d feel like everything was normal and there was no need to feel awkward.

Instead she smiled at him, lips curved. Her eyes looked him up and down, almost sultry. “My dear. You should be so lucky.”

She pushed him into the dressing room and closed the curtain.

*****

Felix was rather proud of himself for being able to tie a cravat on his first try and looked at what he could see of himself. Unfortunately the dressing room didn’t have a mirror so he would have to leave the room to see his reflection. A ploy of the Wardrobe Department, no doubt. It cut down the number of actors who damaged valuable costumes after realizing how unflattering they were. Well, he wasn’t vain. He didn’t care.

He slid back the dressing room curtain and looked at the mirror.

Okay, he did care.

The long black dress coat was a strange hybrid between a Regency and a Victorian cut and he liked it better, historical accuracy aside. The white shirt contrasted with the black and he thought the gray trousers tied them together.

He looked at the dark gold waistcoat. Another excellent choice that would bring attention to his hair color.

Running his hands over the vest he felt a side pocket. He looked from his reflection to Marinette. She looked satisfied, even pleased with herself. He liked the confident look on her face.

“It’s just big enough for a watch and chain,” he told her.

She smiled widely. “I bet you already have one.”

“Helen’s granddad. It’s supposed to go to the eldest but she’ll let me borrow it.”

She nodded. “Raise your arms. I want to see how easily you can move in it.”

He did so.

“Hold them out, shoulder height.”

He paused. “T-pose?”

“Sure.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say she enjoyed giving him orders and ask if she had any dominating tendencies. That would have been incredibly unprofessional and could have gotten him and his Mother’s production company sued.

But what if she’d said yes?

You’re an idiot, me.

Marinette watched him pose. Her teeth worried her lower lip slightly and he found himself staring at her mouth before he forced his gaze away from her face. He looked straight ahead and tried to focus on…anything else.

“So, how was filming? I’ve been in the dressing room most of the day so I don’t know how scenes I’m not in are going.”

Ah, a neutral topic, something he would be confident talking about. It would relax him. Very smart.

“First, I did a scene with Barrington and Headmaster Doyle. They were discussing security for the ball and whether or not they should hire a private company.” The company would be owned by Jayden’s relatives and he would hack the school’s mainframe to make sure they got hired instead of the school’s original security company. That would give the heroes more eyes on any suspicious people. “Then Doyle and Professor Burnham-Hui discuss old times at school and how they miss Professor Akunin.” It was a great way to humanize the adult characters and give them nuance.

“Fleshing out characters beside our mains? Awesome.” Marinette took a step towards him then hesitated. “Um, Felix? I need to check the seams and the fit. That means I need to touch you.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’d like permission to touch you, if that’s all right.”

Felix stiffened, but only for a moment. He knew Marinette and was confident she wouldn’t take advantage to be inappropriate. Plus, she was his friend now. To his surprise, he trusted her to be respectful.

“It’s fine,” he told her, “I trust you not to…I don’t know…throw me down and ravish me.”

He meant it as a joke and wanted to needle her but she disappointed him. All she did was give him a flat look and say, “again, you’re not that lucky.”

Marinette got closer to him and reached up, touching his neck and then hooking a finger between his skin and the cravat. “Is it too tight? Can you breathe comfortably?”

He inhaled and then exhaled to show her. “Just fine.”

She nodded and then ran her hands from his underarms down his sides. “The seams look good. Plenty of room I hope? You don’t look like you have any trouble moving.”

Her hands moved lower then stopped. She looked into his eyes and her expression looked professional. Hell, she almost looked clinical as if she was giving him a medical exam. It left him feeling oddly disappointed.

“Hey, Felix?” She frowned and the skin between her brows wrinkled. “I want to check the waistband. I’ll just pull on the belt loops, I promise.”

What was it about her that made him want to make snarky comments and purposely pick fights with her when they were alone? A small part of him was worried he was blending his character with himself, something he hadn’t done since he was a child until this part. Sure, sometimes he had trouble breaking character but that was only for an instant and never when away from set.

Perhaps there was something about Marinette.

At first he thought she was just another bubble-headed fangirl obsessed with his cousin. She might have had a little talent but not much substance. As he got to know her he became impressed by her drive and ambition, her refusal to be intimidated by him. He liked her humor and wit most of all.

She was creative and had a knack for planning. She could be insightful and had integrity and leadership abilities.

It was a shame there wasn’t another Heraldry Miraculous for her to wield. He would have named her Nimue or something similar.

He felt her hands checking the seams along his calves and then stopped at his pants cuffs. He blinked back into awareness. “So uh…how’s the fit so far?”

“I was just about to ask you. The waist feels loose without being baggy. Better than Luka’s; his seemed a little tight.”

Felix clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. Really, she was either innocent or oblivious when it came to teenage boys.

Marinette raised the fabric near his ankles and he felt her hand on his bare skin. Her touch was light and gentle, barely there and even soothing. “I think your pant hem needs to come down about a centimeter. What do you think?”

He looked down and saw what she meant. Yes, the pants were slightly too short. He wasn’t sure how that happened. “I guess you didn’t take my measurements correctly.”

She glared up at him and he felt oddly vindicated. “You really shouldn’t insult me when I have access to sharp objects,” she reminded him and made a note on her phone. “We’re done here. I’ll shut the curtain and you can change.”

She was gone before he could make another smartarse remark.

As he was changing he saw Griff looking at him from his vest pocket. He had the feeling his kwami didn’t approve of his behavior towards Marinette. It wasn’t their business.

“Really, chick? That’s no way to speak to a lady like that.”

Felix paused as he buttoned his shirt. “A lady like what? My co-star? A collaborator? An ally?”

Griff made a huffing sound. “A possible future duchess.”

Felix couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I have no plans to ever marry.”

The kwami looked alarmed. “What of the family line?”

“In vitro and a surrogate.”

Griff ruffled his feathers. He sensed something exceptional about this girl, just as he had that blue-haired rival of his. Chicks these days, still wet from the shell and thought they knew everything.

*****

After Felix had left Marinette could finally let Tikki out of her purse. “Ugh. I thought he’d never leave,” the kwami complained.

“Same,” Marinette sighed and rubbed her hands together as if to remove the sensation of Felix’s body from her fingers. “What was with all the insults? Here I am trying to be professional and he’s acting like an ass.”

“Maybe it was because you had your hands all over him and he was…uncomfortable?” Tikki nearly said “enjoying himself too much” or “flustered” but she didn’t want to risk her charge developing any feelings beyond friendship for the boy. His past behavior aside, there was something unusual about Felix she couldn’t quite put her paw on. That, and even though she once would have paired Marinette and Adrien, she now thought they were better off as partners.

Besides, there was Luka and he was clearly better for Marinette, at least for now. She could relax and be herself around him and Longg and Sass sang his praises when they weren’t fighting over who was the better kwami for the musician.

Marinette shrugged then grinned, looking a little sly. “He’s put on some muscle lately but I like Luka’s body better.”

Tikki giggled. Yes, Lukanette! “Is that why you took an extra long time checking the fit on his costume?”

The girl blushed as she thought of feeling the boy’s pulse under her fingertips and the warmth of his skin. He always smelled really good from the bay rum shaving soap his mom had gotten him for his birthday. “Maybe. What can I say? I’m a normal teenage girl.”

“You’re a pervert,” Tikki accused but without malice. Her mischievous grin ruined her attempts to scold her charge.

“Like I said. Normal teenager.”

*****

"Why am I a little spoon?" Felix asked with a pout as he was spooned by Chloe, clutching Mr. Cuddly to his chest.

The beanbag they shared was soft and plush, like those squishmallow toys Allegra loved. It was brought in by Allegra, an odd chunky lavender colored dragon plush made bean bag, with some pillows that were made of the same material but with a pink cow pattern Claude found. It would fit two comfortably, maybe three pushing it. Often, most of the Quantic Kids fought over who got the bean bag, and this time Felix and Chloe were lucky to be there the fastest. Last time Felix tried he was tackled by Claude while Allegra took the bean bag as her prize. He was so miffed he didn't heal her D&D character when they managed to play.

The lights of their chill room were dimmed, there was a tablet playing an old western film; Griff and Milvii were watching. Eyes dilated and raptured at the so-called modern knights of the Wild West as the kwami declared. To anyone watching it was as if the blondes would have undoubtedly fallen asleep watching a movie. A great cover story for any unsuspecting staff.

"You're holding Mr. Cuddly," Chloe supplied as if the most natural answer in the world.

Felix tightened his grip lightly on the teddy bear that smelled of the essential oils Chloe generously sprayed on it. It was meant to be relaxing, and the refreshing scent of mint and lavender did soothe him. The soft fur was nice under his palms and it was super cuddly as his namesake. Everything perfect for a nap, Felix still didn't sleep. His mind still raced, so much was going on that it seemed so easy to fail. Maybe he should have done paperwork as he told Luka and Marinette?

It seemed wrong somehow to take a nap, the idea of guilt had him frown and tense. To just not give 100 percent in everything. It wasn't his style, Felix was nothing if not tenacious and driven. He worked hard to fulfill his goals. He would succeed in everything. Whether it be acting, directing, or this new superhero thing. Maybe, somewhere on the bottom of the responsibility pole, he could have a social life and new friendships. The image of Marinette and Luka flashed in his mind and he felt guilty. He’d turned down a chance to nap with them in order to spend time with a neglected Chloe.

"Stop thinking, you're not being a good pillow." Chloe grumbled at his ear, tightening her hold on Felix until he whined in protest. "Naps are bandaids to the soul, or Claude claims. That means no thinking."

"I can't just turn it off, Bitchoise." Felix grumbled, a bit helpless, which had the girl sigh and move.

Felix felt a bit off kilter as he suddenly felt the loss of Chloe's body pressed against his back. It was quite sudden and he turned back looking over his shoulder to see that the girl had adjusted herself propping herself up. The strawberry cow print pillow now supported her elbow as she rested her chin on her hand.

She dragged him over and Felix went from looking over his shoulder to on his back looking at the ceiling. Felix felt his hands tighten on Mr. Cuddly defensively, keeping it close to the chest because Chloe was less likely to pinch or tickle him if he had one of her most prized possessions at hand. If the kwami noticed or not Felix was unsure. As far as he could tell, the two stayed glued to Clint Eastwood and whatever movie he was in that they watched.

"Talk it out." Chloe spoke, gesturing with her free hand that Felix should continue and do that. Talk it out, it being the closest either blonde would readily admit to feelings. Felix made a face filled with his distaste and he snarked back at her.

"I must tell Claude he's doing wonderful in your empathy program, Allen also for writing the code."

"Stop it." Chloe snarked, flicking his nose with her free hand. "No deflecting, you don't let me do it so pay up."

Felix groaned, pressing his face to the soft fur of Mr. Cuddly if only to avoid Chloe's knowing gaze. It felt ever since she was bonded with Milvii she saw everything. As if the perception of the kwami bled into the holder; which was unfair. Felix wasn't feeling particularly courageous. He was feeling so weird and confused. Oddly bereft and he wasn't sure if it was one specific thing or a combination of anything.

"I don't know what it is." He confessed. "But I feel like a rope fraying on the ends a bit."

"Hmm…" Chloe hummed thoughtfully as she took into consideration his words. "I'm going to say stuff and you'll listen."

"When you put it like that it means I won't like it." Felix groaned, sinking deeper into the bean bag.

"Don't care, stop fussing." Chloe flicked him again if only to catch his attention, and it wasn't often she could. "You're not a crocodile."

"Your observations are astounding, madam." Felix snarked, he couldn't help it. "What next? I'm not a bear?"

"You're not, maybe an English badger if we’re lucky. Sadly you're a certified bastard with pedigree to match" Chloe followed him easily. "But as I was saying, Crocodiles don't need to chew their food, they bite off and swallow; you’ve been doing that too lately, and you keep on biting off more than you can handle. You're running yourself ragged trying to do a lot and looking cool the entire time.”

“I am prepared and capable with all of my tasks. I'm Felix Graham de Vanilly, we’re very resourceful.” Felix defended himself, but the words sounded weak and hollow even to himself.

She gave him a “you’re not fooling anyone” look which reminded him of his mother. “Fe, we both know that is a lot of bs. I mean, actor and director, ok, both high intensity but in the same wheelhouse. I am willing to admit you’re very capable, resourceful and good with the networking to have brought an outstanding team to back you up. You're reminding Gabriel Agreste that he's nothing but a Boomer and you will defeat him.”

Chloe could tell she didn’t have him convinced just yet and sighed, throwing her hand in the air. “That plan is fun and isn't constant. We get our opportunities and have a field day. I mean it took you days to ride off the high you got showing his little secretary who’s boss which was very nice. The hero gig? Yeah that's taking a lot of our time, I mean--" Chloe paused to yawn as if proving her point. "We're tired, and you focus on what more you can do than learning to juggle what you got. So shut up and nap, you need beauty sleep. If only to make your personality more tolerable to the nice folk."

Felix wanted to protest. Say something, anything to prove her wrong. Sadly there wasn’t much to counter her offers. He was running himself ragged, a rope overused and beginning to fray. He didn’t like it but it was the truth. Dissatisfied with his mortal limitations which were showing up more and more since he’s been in France, Felix sighed, defeated. He needed a massage, a nap, and a nice hour or two of absolutely nothing. Now was sadly not the time, so wasting the precious minutes they all grabbed to sleep felt wrong.

“I might concede…for now, but I’m tired so let’s try to nap.” Felix spoke quickly, turning and resting his cheek on the pillow once again ignoring the satisfied smirk Chloe had as she hugged him once again. It seems the little talk worked in untangling a part of his head for now as he felt himself slipping off into slumber. The low noise of the tablet was soothing like any lullaby, the soft and plush beanbag and pillows were grand, and the weight of another person made him feel less lonely.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Sleep, while difficult to achieve at first, was welcomed eagerly by overworked, tired heroes that basically had their lives divided by two or three different directions. Four if the overachievers were asked, which were sadly most of the heaviest hitters.

While exhausted teens took the fleeting moments to nap with relish; momentarily disconnecting from all responsibilities in their dreams, relaxed and deep in slumber, somewhere in Paris a certain man was making plans to ultimately disrupt momentary serenity. He didn't know that the outcome of this particular plan would backfire spectacularly on his face. With this instance he will gain even more enemies. Not that they knew about it, but this is how it happened.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Hidden from the prying eyes of Paris there was a man. Sunlight shone through an ornate window illuminating the room. Butterflies began to flutter about as it has happened every time he stepped in with ill intent. Hawkmoth thought it was time for a new plot to enact his schemes. Take the miracle jewels of Paris's favorite crime fighting duo and do with it his ultimate evil plan.

"A new day, a new opportunity." Hawkmoth spoke to his butterflies. “Let’s go find one, shall we?”

Hawkmoth tapped into the intrinsic value of the butterfly. Yet for transformation there needed to be a catalyst. Caterpillars had a catalyst that encouraged them to transform and with the miraculous Hawkmoth could manipulate humans to do the same. Yet it was difficult if the circumstances weren't in his favor. 'Twas a delicate balance that Hawkmoth employed, finding the best scenarios to awaken.

He focused and felt himself connect. A network of all living beings lighting up like a map in his mind. Pulsating and illuminated with the colors of emotion. It always felt overwhelming when he stretched his consciousness so far, so he began to refine it. Remove his connection from plants and animals, while they could be good for distractions it wasn't his intent at this time.

Now Hawkmoth looked at the silken strands of so many potential akuma. Eager to see one who was ready for a little nudge to become a beautiful and terrifying butterfly. Colors sparked in his mind's eye, the network pulsing akin to a heartbeat and in an array of colors. He looked out for specific feelings. Anger, sadness, heartbreak, righteous fury, hatred; anything that would birth a worthy Akuma to further his goal.

Oh, longing. The emotion enticed the villain from where he stood and he delved deeper. Ignoring most of the city until the faintest tendrils of his power connected him to the emotion that piqued his interest.

Looking at that sad graying red of a once vibrant love. A young teenage girl was in love. Aren't they always? She was in love with a classmate who didn't know her, one-sided love at that.

Hawkmoth focused on sending his consciousness further into seeing the reasoning behind the emotions. Memories filtered through his mind.

The young girl was in love with this boy since they were young children. For so long she had been in a friend group and she helplessly pined because she had no courage. She was working hard on building her confidence, experimenting with make up and fashion. Joining the same music club, working hard to learn her instrument so she could spend time with him.

The girl was sincere and tried so hard. She even worked a part time job to buy him a present on becoming the first chair in their club. She had just bought the present and was heading home when she saw something. It was the boy, looking shy and sweet. Laughing with a pretty girl both holding hands when a breeze dropped some leaves onto their hair and taking the opportunity of 'removing the leaf' from each other's hair they stole a kiss. It was romantic and beautiful, a young love’s date and the girl felt despair.

Prodding further it seems that the other girl knew of her feelings, and assured him that she would support her. What betrayal! Such longing! The girl believed if she had the chance, if he would give her a chance, she would prove how much better she was. Hawkmoth couldn't really resist. One of his little purple butterflies fluttered down on her and landed on something starting a direct connection between the two.

"Cry not, sweet child." Hawkmoth crooned, his voice soft and delicate to not startle the girl. He imagined a younger Emilie crying and the tenderness was easy to convey. "Your tears are precious."

"Wh--who's there?" The girl gasped looking around for the origin of his voice. She was in her room, she had run home and was crying on her bed. The opened window showed a beautiful parisian scene but no one there to speak to her.

"I am a friend, and one who's seen your plight." Hawkmoth spoke in the form of a greeting. "I saw the depths of your pure love and the pain of your betrayal. It is so awful that a friend would betray us that way."

"Marie isn't my friend;" The girl spat hotly standing up in fury, the pulse of anger was a wonderful spark. She would be a good akuma. "Or else, she isn't anymore, maybe she was never a friend to begin with." The girl muttered deflated staring at a picture framed on her wall. Of her and that so-called friend Marie, they looked happy. The girl was sad all over again. The ember of her anger was extinguishing, and Hawkmoth couldn't have that.

"Of that I am sorry, child." Hawkmoth soothed, softening the girl's sadness with his limited power connected to this temporary champion, and subtly fanning her anger. "I know not who to pity more. You for the betrayal of a so-called friend, or for poor Laurent. He's innocent and being manipulated by Marie. If she couldn't be a friend to you, obviously she cannot be left with Laurent's heart. She will destroy him."

The honeyed words once spoken, seemed to plant themselves deep into the girl. Flashes of emotions pulsated. Shock, pity, love, betrayal, sadness…all culminating in one perfect emotion. Rage so potent that the light seemed blinding in their connection. Hawkmoth couldn't help the smile, he has her where he wants her.

"We have to save Laurent." Hawkmoth spoke urgently, keeping his kind facade.

"We do, I have to. How didn't I think of this before? Oh mon dieu." The girl gasped, pressing a fist to her chest.

"I can't do much by myself; but together we can save Laurent." Hawkmoth proposed. "All I ask is that you also help me; you see some people betrayed me too. They stole something important and everyone praises the thieves. I so do want the miraculous back."

"Of course!" The girl agreed, not noticing how she began to change. Where there was once a sad teenage girl, was the new dark champion of the villain; with a new mission.

"Let's help Laurent, Miss Cupid." The hopeful voice of Hawkmoth whispered with a far more sinister edge. Yet Miss Cupid did not notice the exhilarating feeling of power coursing through her drowned out things she should have noticed.

"Yes Hawkmoth, and don't worry I'll help you, too. The miraculous will be returned." Miss Cupid agreed as she took off.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Forty-five minutes.

Only forty-five minutes have passed.

FORTY.

FIVE.

MINUTES?!

Three quarters to an hour, fifteen minutes away from a glorious 60 minutes. The universe couldn’t even try to give them the full 60 minutes of extra sleep until all hell broke loose. The sick bastard who was responsible: Hawk Moth. The reason? He just had to create a new akuma. The siren and semi-distant screams filled the questions that filled Felix as he awoke with a start.

Insult to injury was the guitar riff that was Claude’s ringtone in Felix’s ear as he picked up the call.

"LARP." The singular word was code to the group. That they would go and transform, fighting the akuma. It was the first time the code was used, and for it to be Claude was alarming. His tone held no room for argument. It was less of a suggestion, or a question. No, Claude was transforming and was simply telling Felix, as Felix was the leader of the Knights.

"Claude," Felix sighed, understanding his friend was mad. Secretly relieved it wasn't his fault, or any staff's. He wouldn't need to plan contingencies. "We agreed not to involve ourselves with pest control."

"Sorry, Boss," Claude didn't sound sorry at all. "Taking a part time job."

"Not alone," Felix was quick to remark.

"Lady-love is talking to the big guy." Claude explained, he had Allegra talk to Allen. No doubt repeating the same code to Allen.

"What does the heart say?' Felix asked, trying to reign them in.

"Giving understanding support."

Shite.

"Griff, are we cleared to Larp?" Felix asked, noticing that Chloe had jumped into motion. The lethargy of sleep clung like a stubborn lover, but she was moving. She had been feeding both Milvii and Griff, and was grabbing a snack bag for both kwami.

"Not up to the best circumstances." Griff spoke up before turning to Milvii.

"You'll do, Percival has already been awakened." Milvii nodded.

"At least we're taking a back seat." Felix proposed as a compromise, they needed to sneak out of here also. "Stay low, don't be seen if you can help it."

“Nah boss, we’re out for blood.”

Click.

“Bitchoise, we’re fighting an akuma.” Felix spoke a bit absently trying to wake up.

"Already texted your mom, and I memorized possible escape routes D-Marinette gave dealing with our other problem. Ready when you are." Chloe chirped.

Once again Felix wondered what he did to piss off the universe this time.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The Akuma Alarm blasted loudly, waking two other teens who scrambled. Both needed secrecy to go and help the city. Luka made a quick lie about helping secure the music equipment because Allen was working mostly alone. Marinette agreed and saw as the boy sped off vaguely running to the music room. She opened the window of her trailer as it faced a rarely traveled path and looked at her kwami.

"It feels mean, having Luka run away to transform." Marinette mumbled.

"Well the Guardian did say that your identities couldn't be exposed." Tikki reminded her holder, not really sure if it should even stay true now after everything. "It's for your safety."

Her little bug was running ragged, a friend who knew what she was going through would have been so helpful. It wasn't as noticeable because the make up team was doing wonders making her not look as tired as Marinette was, and the concealer did a great help on covering the shadows that had been steadily growing. Tikki knew that Marinette was enjoying herself, the designing was fun and it was a breath of fresh air to see creativity in motion.

The acting, while a hurdle at first, was growing on Marinette and Tikki was sure that part of it was how she interacted with everyone, especially Luka and Felix. With Felix Marinette was confident, like Ladybug but without the burden of responsibility. With Luka she was grounded and at peace. Which meant that when she had to stand as the leader and guardian of the miraculous alone, it was harder for Tikki to stomach. The Guardians were a network back in the temple and not one person held all the burden, not even the Grand Guardian. For such responsibility on her young holder, Tikki felt bubbling questions pop in her mind. Maybe it was time for a change, for all their sakes.

At least we have Luka helping out as a hero again, and Miss Kagami. I hope it helps remove her burdens. Tikki thought while she looked at her holder. The teen was psyching herself up and looked so alone and tired.

"Tikki, spots on." Marinette spoke the words, losing her usual youthful enthusiasm. She appeared more battle worn and tired, a general rejoining a never ending fight. Scarlet light wrapped around her body and no longer was the girl Marinette standing there. Now she was Ladybug, hero and protector of Paris.

#felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #chloe bourgeois #quantic kids #original characters #worthy opponent au

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